Top Secret
: Chapter 27

KEATON

Routines are a funny thing. They sneak up on you. Like, one day you wake up and eat a turkey sandwich, and then two months go by and you’ve eaten a turkey sandwich every single day, and you think, Huh. I guess I eat daily turkey sandwiches now.

Although in this case, turkey sandwich is a euphemism for hot sex with a dude.

Days have turned into weeks. The snow has melted and spring is in the air. And so is my dick. Luke’s warm fingers encircle the base of my shaft. He gives a lazy stroke, and I groan softly.

It’s nine thirty-ish in the morning, and we’re in my bed, naked and horny. The first couple of times he crashed in my room, I worried that one of our frat brothers might catch us, but eventually my anxiety tapered off. Bailey and I are the only ones up here on the third floor, my door has a lock on it, and the only guys who might barge in are Judd and Tanner, who’re both out of the house by six a.m. on weekdays for baseball practice.

Luke’s free hand strokes the cleft of my ass. We probably don’t have time to fuck right now, but just the suggestion makes me harder. There’s no denying how much I like it. My prostate is my new best friend. And when we’re in a hurry, there’s a dozen other fun ways we get each other off. Bailey gives the best blowjobs on the planet.

What he doesn’t give me a lot of is words. He’s a tight-lipped bastard and nearly impossible to read, so sometimes it’s a challenge being around him. For example, this morning I asked him if I could come to the club tonight to watch his set, and instead of answering he just kissed me and started rubbing my dick.

It worked, too. That’s why I’ve forgotten to complain these last few minutes. His kiss is deep and hungry. My hands explore the muscles of his back, and his narrow waist. Only when we’re making out does he let me touch him anywhere I want.

He sighs happily, stroking me. It’s almost enough to make me forget the question I’d asked.

“You didn’t answer,” I mumble against his lips. “Maybe I’ll just show up tonight, either way.”

I immediately regret saying that, because his hand leaves my cock.

A pair of stern eyes bore into my face. “Don’t.” His sharp tone invites no argument. “My work is off-limits. I already told you that.”

“What’s the big deal?” I protest, all the while wishing he’d touch me again. “You’re hot when you strip. I’m talking Magic Mike-level heat.”

“I know I’m hot when I strip—it’s my job to be hot.” To my disappointment, he climbs out of bed. His massive hard-on swings up and smacks his tight abs. “I need to focus when I’m at work. You showing up would be a distraction.”

“Fine. I won’t,” I promise. “Now will you come back here and finish what you started?” I fling the sheet off my lower body, and my erection bobs up to say hello.

“Nah.”

“Why not?” I demand.

He sweeps his tongue over his bottom lip. “Because you displeased me.”

I sputter with laughter. “Are you serious right now? I displeased you?”

“Yeah, by bringing up the work shit. Your big mouth cost yourself my mouth.” Luke’s eyes gleam dangerously. “Bad boys get punished, Hayworth.”

Ohhh. I see where this is going and I ain’t gonna lie—I’m fully on board. So is my dick, judging by the way it grows impossibly harder.

Luke doesn’t miss my body’s response. But when I slide my hand down my stomach toward my groin, he stops me with a swift, “Hands at your sides.”

“But I’m horny,” I whine.

“Don’t care. Hands at your sides.” When I hesitate again, he mocks, “Don’t make me ask you a third time.”

My mouth goes dry. I slowly press my palms to the mattress on either side of me.

“Good. Now lie there and let me eye-fuck you.” He grabs hold of himself with one fist.

Oh Christ. Is that how it’s going to be? He’s going to torture me by getting himself off and forcing me to watch? Just watch.

He pumps his shaft, and, yup, apparently that’s precisely how it’s going to be.

Bailey’s eyes greedily roam my naked body as he strokes himself. I want to mimic what he’s doing, but I’ve been ordered not to move. So I simply lie there, harder than a post and aching for release. When his fist moves faster, my breathing becomes labored.

“You’re wishing you could jack yourself right now, aren’t you?” Luke taunts.

My gaze is glued to his. “Yes,” I croak.

“Don’t look at my face. Look at my cock. Look how hard I am.”

I dip my gaze. Oh Jesus. He’s the sexiest thing in the world. “Iwantit,” I mumble through my arid throat.

“What was that?” he teases.

“I want it,” I repeat, clearer this time.

Luke slants his head in thought. Down south, he’s jerking himself off, slowly but deliberately. “What do you want?”

“Your cock.”

“Nah,” he says again. “You’re going to watch me come. And you’re not going to say another word, make another sound, until I do. And then, maybe, I’ll let you come too. But only if you show me you can follow the rules.”

His rules. The rules I’ve been following for more than two months now. Don’t get me wrong, I love it when he bosses me around in bed. It turns me on something fierce. But his my-way-or-no-way temperament extends beyond the bedroom, and for some reason I’m beginning to resent that.

Right now, though, I only resent not being able to give myself any relief.

“So,” Luke drawls. “Are you going to follow the rules?”

I nod wordlessly.

With a sultry smile, he gives himself another stroke. “Fuck,” he grinds out. “You look so hot lying there. You get me so hard, every time.”

I bite my lip to stop a moan. If I make a sound, he’ll stop. We’ve been together enough times for me to know that Bailey doesn’t make idle threats.

He lets out a hot gasp, and I think he’s getting close.

And while I enjoy watching, I also want to touch him. So I beg him with eyes. Come here. I lick my lips. Taste me. Own me.

He avoids my eyes, setting that laser gaze on my quads and then lifting it to my straining cock. But maybe the mind-meld thing I’m trying to do is working. Because he lifts his chin and shows me those dark eyes.

And just for a second I see something there that I like a whole lot. It’s ownership, with a side of need.

Come here, I inwardly beg. Right where I need you.

He moves fast, spreading his body over mine, nipping my shoulder. “Jack me,” he whispers. “Quick.”

I don’t need to be asked twice. I shove a hand between our bodies and take both of us in hand.

“Fuck,” he whispers, before kissing me harshly.

I fucking love it. I open for him, inviting him in. He moans into my mouth as I stroke him fast and dirty, the way he likes it.

He makes a broken noise, and I open my eyes to watch him tip over the edge. He’s so beautiful when he comes—all flashing eyes and desperate groans. His cheeks flush darkly.

For once, our gazes lock as he shudders and pulses in my hand. “Ah!” he gasps, losing himself in the moment. I crane my neck and kiss him again, needing to be there as he comes.

My hand is drenched, and he bears down on me, scraping his cock against my oversensitive skin. “Now you,” he breathes. “Go.”

I love it when he tells me to come, and my body is triggered and ready. Three or four strokes are all it takes until I’m sucking on his tongue and moaning against his mouth, spending into my hand.

He collapses onto me with a sweaty sigh, and I hear nothing else over the heartbeat pounding in my ears.

I grin up at the ceiling. Hi, endorphins. Thanks for stopping by.

Luke kisses my neck slowly. I like it a whole lot. And I rub my clean hand slowly along the curve of his ass.

This part lasts all of five seconds, though. And then Luke hauls himself into a vertical position and grabs the paper towels.

He does that every time—either gets up or rolls over. Like staying in my space would break one of his many rules.

“I gotta hit the shower before finance,” he says now.

“Bailey,” I call before he can leave.

He makes a rumbling sound as he turns to face me. “Swear to God, Hayworth, if you bring up the visiting-me-at-work thing again—”

“No, not that,” I assure him. “I was just going to invite you to Sunday brunch again.”

He visibly swallows.

Ha. I knew that would get his attention. And I don’t miss the indecision that crosses his expression as he mulls over the invitation. We’ve gone through this several times before: I invite Luke to brunch with my dad, Luke hesitates, and then he either rejects the offer or caves in. For five out of eight invites, it’s been the latter, resulting in him once again serving as my Dad buffer.

Initially I was a bit dismayed that Luke and my father get along like rabbits in heat. But every time I bring Luke to brunch, he’s an incredible buffer. Hell, he’s even better than Annika when it comes to placating my father. They talk business the entire time, and I get to play Candy Crush on my phone.

He never orders the eggs Benedict anymore, though.

“Nah,” he says now. “I can’t make it this weekend. But thanks for the invite.”

Frustration fills my belly as I watch him slide out of my room. I swear, this guy is so difficult. It’s like he’s determined to keep everyone at arm’s length.

And I still have to show up at brunch, damn it.

I lie here feeling sorry for myself for a moment. And then the perfect solution presents itself to me. I grab my phone off the bedside table and open up my favorites. I touch a number that I don’t dial very often anymore.

“Hey, Annika!” I say when she answers. “Want to come out for brunch on Sunday? For old time’s sake?”

I’m probably just imagining it, but I swear Luke growls a little in the next room.

And clearly I’m a genius, because brunch with Dad is totally fine. Annika orders the eggs Benedict and makes lots of small talk. Plus it’s great to catch up with her. So I’m winning at life.

Now we’re in my room, listening to music and theoretically studying for an economics test that bores us both silly. I can’t even blame my father for making me take this class. It’s a Darby requirement.

“What do you think he’ll ask about international trade?” I ask my ex, hoping she has a better handle on this material than I do.

“Keaton, I’m seeing someone,” Annika says suddenly.

It takes me a second to realize that we’ve shifted topics. “I thought you were already dating a lacrosse player?” I ask carefully. Annika and I are still friends, but we don’t talk about our sex lives. Obviously I can’t discuss mine. And I’d assumed she keeps me in the dark about hers out of respect for having dumped me.

“Oh, I wasn’t dating him,” she says. “I just needed a date for a couple of parties. We both know lacrosse is a stupid sport. I could never get past that on a long-term basis.”

I burst out laughing, because Annika always could make me smile.

She pulls out her makeup kit and starts messing around with the various tubes and bottles she keeps in there. It’s a tell that she’s nervous. I still know her so well.

“The thing is,” she says, inspecting an eyeliner pencil. “I’m super-obsessed with this guy I’m seeing. And I know that obsession isn’t often a healthy emotion, but this is so different for me. It’s exciting.”

“And you’re telling me this because…” I really can’t figure that out. “You need me to say it’s okay?”

“I guess so.” She raises her eyes from her compact mirror. “I really don’t know if he’s my forever guy. In fact, he’s probably not. But I feel like this is something I needed to do.”

“You mean he is something you needed to do.” It comes out sounding a little bitchy.

She makes a sympathetic face.

“Look, I’m sure you were right,” I say quietly. “I get it now.” She was obviously right that we weren’t sexually compatible. Hell, I’m still coming to terms with my sexual stuff. “I’m not even angry about it anymore.”

“Really?” She sits up straight and sets her makeup bag aside. “I’m pretty relieved to hear you say that. I never wanted to hurt you. In fact, it would be great if you could get a little dose of what I’m getting.”

I bite my tongue. Because if she’s banging a dude, I am getting that.

Not that I’m allowed to say so.

My glance drifts toward my stereo, which is actually playing a Sam Smith song right now. I wouldn’t listen to this guy at all if it weren’t for a certain obsession of mine. But I can’t explain that, either. And honestly it pisses me off. Lying gets old pretty fast. And I’m not used to bottling up my feelings.

“There is someone,” I admit. “I’m not comfortable discussing it with you. But I want you to know that I understand. We both needed to make some changes and try a few things out.”

Annika gasps like she’s just heard there’s a sale at Bergdorf’s. “Really? Who? And I already regret bringing it up.”

“Wait, why?”

“Well, duh!” She sits up straight in the middle of my bed. “Because now I’m desperately curious and you said you won’t tell me.”

I snort.

“Just share a crumb, Keaton.” She blinks at me with pretty eyes.

“No. And stop asking.” I take a sip of my coffee and hide behind the cup.

“Is she a dominatrix?”

I promptly choke on my coffee.

“Omigod, she is!“ Annika squeals. “I knew it. I called it!”

“You…what?” I sputter.

“I guessed it, Keaton. You’re a submissive. That’s what was missing. Do you prefer being lashed, or being tied up?”

“No! You’re not even…” I swallow my denial. I can’t argue with her because I don’t want her to keep making guesses.

“Where’d you meet her?” Annika demands. “Is there, like, a sex dungeon around here? I read Fifty Shades of Grey.”

Just kill me already.

“I know you think I’m sheltered.” She swallows hard. “But I have intuition. I knew you needed something I couldn’t give you. And I know it’s private but…” She sighs. “I hated feeling like I was always disappointing to you.”

“Annika! Jesus. You were never disappointing to me. It’s just that we got together when we were super young.”

“I get that. And I also know that breaking up with you was a big risk. There are days when I wonder if I’ll look back someday and think—Keaton was the best man ever in my life, and I was too young to realize it.”

“Aw, that won’t happen.” But is she a great girl, or what? I put down my coffee cup and pounce on her, wrapping my arms around her, but then putting one finger under her ribs where I know she’s ticklish.

“Oh my God! Get off of me, you beast.”

But I don’t relent and she howls with laughter.

“Everything okay in here?” Luke’s face appears in the doorway. I’ve grown to look past that scowl he wears, but right now he looks extra grumpy.

“Well, Mr. President,” Annika says, “I would like to lodge a formal complaint about your roommate, here. It’s rude to tickle people that you outweigh.” She takes a better look at Luke’s expression. “Are we being too loud?”

He shrugs. “I’ve got work to do, but maybe I’ll just shut your door.”

“Actually, I’d better go, anyway,” Annika says, untangling herself from me. “We aren’t good study partners for this econ test because we both hate it. Do you have it this term, too?” she asks Luke.

He shakes his head. “Took it freshman year for funzies.”

“Ugh.” She shudders. “What else do you do for fun? Income taxes? Oral surgery?”

“Riiiight,” he says slowly. “Oral surgery. How’d you guess?”

I can’t help it. A smile takes over my face, and I bite the inside of my cheek to avoid laughing. When I glance at Luke, he’s got a tight lid on his own humor, of course. Nobody has a poker face like Luke Bailey. But I know him well enough to see the nanosecond of humor in his eyes.

“You’re a fun guy, Bailey. No matter what they say.” Annika shoves a bunch of cosmetics into her bag and hops off my bed. “You, too. Keaton. Thanks for the eggs Benedict.”

“Anytime!”

She blows me a kiss on her way out the door. The smile I give her is a little bigger than necessary, maybe. But if that’s the most petty thing I do all week, then I guess it isn’t too bad.

“Fun brunch?” Luke asks, still lurking in my doorway.

“Sure. Dad only made two cracks about maybe getting us back together. So there’s that.” I roll my eyes just thinking about it.

“Does she want to?” Luke asks, heaving himself across my bed, face down.

“Nope. She’s seeing someone new, and she’s obsessed with him. Her words.” I sit down on the edge of the bed, one hand on Luke’s back. “Why?”

He shrugs without turning to look at me.

“You’re jealous. Knowing you, it’s only a little. But you still won’t to say so.”

“I don’t have any reason to be jealous,” he says. “We’re not a couple.”

“But we are exclusive,” I point out. That was my one big demand. I don’t feel comfortable with the idea of him sleeping around, especially while I’m still wrapping my head around the fact that we’re sleeping with each other. And since Luke’s a fan of easy, convenient sex, he was fine with it.

“Yeah. We are.”

“So why wouldn’t you call us a couple?” I ask. “Isn’t that the definition?”

He rolls over, breaking contact with my hand. “Because what’s the point? Any second now you’ll get sick of this arrangement. And you’ll go back to dating people you can bring home to Daddy.”

“Because my father’s opinion is so fucking important to me,” I scoff.

“Oh, please.” He sits up. “It obviously is, or you would’ve already told him that you don’t plan to ever work for his company.”

“That’s just avoidance of the inevitable. Which is exactly what you’re doing. I think you’re really happy dating me, as long as you don’t have to call it what it is.”

“But why does it matter?” he asks me. He shifts his weight and frowns at something he replaces in the pillows—it’s Annika’s eyeliner and mirror. He opens the mirror and inspects it. “What would change if we called it dating? It’s not like you really feel like letting anyone in on the secret.”

I bite down hard on my lip. Because he’s mostly right. Mostly. I don’t look forward to awkward conversations with my friends and teammates. And the idea of people making fun of me behind my back gives me the cold sweats.

On the other hand, acknowledging my sexuality is starting to feel inevitable. My attraction to Luke isn’t just a one-off thing. My attraction to men is here to stay and keeping that bottled up feels wrong now. It makes the secret feel enormous.

“Look,” I challenge. “You say you don’t lie about your sexuality. Why should I, then? Right now I lie all the time, and it’s a drag.” It makes the secret feel dark, when I need to feel okay about it, instead.

He just stares at me for a minute. “I can’t be president of this fraternity and also bang one of the brothers. Can you even imagine what people would say?”

“We have a gay brother already,” I point out. “And since when do you care about what people think of you?” He’s just dodging me because he thinks I’m needy.

“I don’t, but…” Luke scrubs his chin with his hand. “I’m not you. I’m not well-liked. The guys downstairs would say some seriously ugly shit if you stood up at a chapter meeting some night and said, ‘Oh, by the way, if you hear moaning on the third floor it’s because I’ve discovered I’m bisexual and now I’m Bailey’s new boy toy.’ Your buddy Judd would flip his shit.”

He would. It’s the truth. “Not everybody is Judd.”

“Good thing.” Luke snorts.

We lapse into silence, just eyeing each other warily. My fingers itch to touch him. I want to use my thumb to smooth out the furrow between his eyebrows. I like Luke Bailey. A lot. That’s my other secret. And forget about my frat brothers—it’s Luke who can’t handle that one.

“You know what I think?” he says suddenly. “I think you need to justify us. Like you’re not a hundred percent okay with getting it on with a guy. And if I tell you we’re more than sex, you’ll feel better.”

“That’s not true,” I protest. And get out of my brain.

“I’m sort of scary to you, and you need to shape it into something that’s more familiar. But it won’t ever work.”

“And why’s that?”

He flops down on my bed with a sigh. “I’m going to put this into terms that you can understand.”

“This better be good.”

“You’re a yellow lab.”

“I’m…what?”

“A dog. A big, happy dog chasing Frisbees on the beach with his pals. You’re a pack animal.”

I snort. “And you’re…a pit bull?”

“Not even. I’m a tomcat in the alley,” he says. “Just passing through. No collar. Not very friendly. No good at catching Frisbees…”

“I get it. Jesus.” It’s not the worst analogy. Although I think Luke secretly wants to be a dog and join the pack. He won’t admit it. But the guy rushed a fraternity, for fuck’s sake. He claims it was the cheapest way to replace a place to live. But I call bullshit. Luke won’t admit all the things that he wants.

Who am I to criticize, though? A guy who willfully ignored his attraction to men for many years can’t go around pointing out other people’s ignorance.

Instead, I lay down on the bed beside him and run a thumb across his forehead, smoothing out his brow. He closes his eyes.

Tomcat my ass.

I wrap an arm around him, and he allows this, too. But even as he begins to weave his fingers through my hair, he says, “You need to think of us like a vacation, Hayworth. Vacations feel real enough. But they always end. Like everything good.”

“Okay, that’s exceptionally cynical. Even for you. What is up with you today?” I reach over and tickle his ribs, too. “So surly.”

He swats my hand away like a fly. “Work problems. Last night there was a funky smell in the bathrooms. We all noticed it. Well, Heather emailed me just now to say that it’s a major problem with the plumbing. And so the club will be closed next weekend. And maybe even the weekend after that.”

“Oh, shit.” I put a palm on his arm and give it a squeeze. I can’t stop touching him. I’d do it all the time if he’d let me. “I’m really sorry. Can you bartend next door instead?”

“Probably not, since there will be so many volunteers. And the bartenders don’t ask for coverage on the weekend very often.”

“That sucks,” I say.

What I don’t say is that I can lend him money. Or give him money. Both of these things are true, but he doesn’t want me to offer.

“Anything I can do?” I ask instead.

He rolls over. “Maybe that thing you do to my shoulders? Please? I think I strained something last night.”

I get up off the bed, closing and locking the door. Then I get back onto the bed, straddling Luke’s waist, placing my hands on his shoulders. I grip them hard, digging in with my thumbs, massaging the tight muscles I replace under my hands.

He groans happily. “You are my favorite person in the whole fucking world.”

It might even be true. I just hope it’s enough for my greedy little heart. I press my luck. “You want to watch that French movie together tonight? The one for your class?”

“Maybe,” he mumbles. “We’ll see.”

I roll my eyes. Mr. Elusive. My hands bear down on his traps and he groans with happiness. The sound does nice things to my insides. So I can’t help but lean down and kiss the back of his neck.

Affection comes easily to me, damn it. I am a yellow lab. Sue me. I give Bailey a terrific massage, interspersed with kisses. And when I’ve turned him into a relaxed puddle of a man, I spread my body out on his back and sigh. “Now I’m horny.”

“Of course you are,” he slurs. “I’m irresistible. That’s why we can’t watch that movie together later. I’m supposed to take notes. I’ll end up fucking you instead.”

“Or vice versa,” I tease, pushing my hips against his ass. “You know I’m going to have this sooner or later.”

He says nothing.

“It’s a good thing you’re not really a tomcat.”

“I so am.”

“Nope. I’d know.”

He turns his head to the side. “Am I going to learn something weird about cat sex right now?”

I grin, and graze his cheek with my lips. “A male cat has barbs on the back half of his penis.”

“Shut the front door.”

“It’s true. I’ll send you a photo later.” I kiss his neck.

“Of course you will.” With a ninja-like motion, he slides out from under me. But then he pulls me into his arms. “Thanks for making me feel better.”

“Any time.” If only you’d let me do it more often.

I kiss him instead of saying it aloud.