Catch a Tiger by the Tail Read online

  “Two more than me.” Shit.

  His grin was wry. “I think that’s my point. You’re not with me because of my money, I think.”

  “I’m not.” At least here I could be honest. “I’m here because I like you.” I added a quiet “a lot” as the waitress approached us.

  Peter ordered a bottle of wine, and we both chose spaghetti as our main courses. Yes, I’d probably wind up wearing some of it, but I loved pasta. Their macaroni was delicious, but their spaghetti was amazing.

  Whoa, Peter still held my hand. Without meaning to, I glanced around. The place was almost full, but no one paid us any mind. He stroked his thumb across the back of my hand in random patterns. It reassured. Offered unspoken support.

  “I don’t know how to do this.” I blurted the words out in a rush, wanting them out there and in the next instant wishing I could pull them back.

  “If you’re looking to me for guidance, you’re shit out of luck.”

  His grin endeared him to me.

  “I haven’t been on a public date in more than a decade.”

  And that lack had been noted and part of some speculation. In general, though, he’d skated through without too much remark. If an actor was good at his job and kept out of trouble, he could skirt some notice. If, on the other hand, he’d been any kind of a bad boy, things would’ve been much tougher.

  “Nothing to see and all that.”

  “Basically. I worked, did the publicity expected of me, and lived a quiet life. I’m hoping to go back to that once the fuss dies down.”

  Did that mean he regretted me? Or that he’d dump me the second the coast was clear? Once he went back to California, I knew my ass was going to be dumped anyway, so that question didn’t need to be answered. As for regrets, I wanted to know. Some perverted part of me needed to know. “You regretting this?”

  His hold tightened. “No. But I feel like I’m using you. I’ve wanted out of the closet for years. I’ve always believed in living my true and authentic self. Now I’ve got the chance, and I’m embracing it. But I’m also dragging you into the spotlight—something I don’t think you’d have chosen for yourself.”

  He wasn’t wrong on that score.

  “My dad told me he was proud of me.”

  “That’s great, Thomas. I’m relieved to hear it. I’d be devastated if I were a wedge between you and your parents.”

  “They want to come down and meet you.”

  I’m not sure who was more surprised, him or me. I hadn’t meant to throw out the idea. After all, I’d told my parents no. Was I having second thoughts? Not about them meeting Peter—that was a non-starter. But about seeing them down here, in my home?

  “I’d love to meet your parents.”

  Okay, that I hadn’t expected. “You don’t have to do it. We might not even be together by then.”

  “Planning to dump me so soon?”

  “No.” And I wasn’t. If dumping was to be done, he’d have to be the one doing it.

  “Then why don’t we play it by ear? After we’re back from Whistler.”

  A reminder, if I needed one, how different things were for us. They’d rented him a chalet while I was bunking with three other people in a condo with two bedrooms. Still, Whistler was expensive, even given we were nowhere near the ski season. The town kept up a steady stream of tourists year-round, with biking, hiking, and gondola rides. I’d been up three times, and each had been for work. Vacationing there was far beyond my budget. “After Whistler.”

  “Which reminds me.” He glanced around. “I’d like it if you stayed in the chalet with me. There are several bedrooms, I understand. I don’t want to ask you back to my hotel here because I don’t want you to get the wrong idea—”

  “And that idea would be?”

  “That I want to jump your bones.”

  Okay then.

  “You don’t want to?” Was that disappointment? Hurt?

  The easy grin returned. “Oh, there are numerous things I want to do to you. With you. But I’m not willing to rush things.”

  “Because we have all the time in the world.” Sarcastic much?

  “Two days. We’re going there in two days. I think I can restrain myself until then. Can continue to once we’re together, but I want to get to know you, and the sound stage is hardly the place to do that.”

  Not when you’re figuratively fucking Cole Hamilton.

  Meow.

  This wasn’t like me, and I wasn’t proud of myself. Still, he’d made an offer. “I’ll stay with you in Whistler. See how the other half lives.”

  The waitress arriving with our food saved me from hearing his response. As I took the first bite, I let the realization sink in. I am Peter Erickson’s boyfriend.

  Chapter Nine

  Filming sex scenes was possibly the least sexy thing to do in the world. Well, there were jobs that were worse, so I supposed I didn’t have the right to complain. Did I grouse in my head? Yeah, just a bit. Was this ten times harder because Cole was a man? Well, at times part of me was harder. I’d never sported an erection on set before, and the fact I popped one during the second day had me embarrassed. Cole was too much of a gentleman to tease me, and since we weren’t doing full frontal, I could keep it under the sheet. Did the crew and Lisette notice? Undoubtedly.

  It hadn’t been Cole that had me hard, though. I’d been kissing him and flashed to Thomas. How much I wished he was the one I was fooling around with. Was fucking. Next thing I knew, I was standing at attention, brushing against Cole’s hip. He didn’t break the kiss and might’ve pushed up against me. Whatever. We wanted realism, and this was as real as it’d get. In the end, Lisette decided I was the top. Cole grinned wickedly when she made that pronouncement.

  During one of the filming breaks, he’d whispered in my ear that if I’d been his type, he’d have pushed to do the fucking. All but an admission he was bi. Or at least that’s what I assumed, given he held a torch for his female best friend. Curiosity warred with discretion, and I chose not to ask. Was I dying to know? Fuck, yes. Did I want to share intimate details about me and Thomas? Well, there weren’t any, but even revealing that wouldn’t be fair.

  After Lisette called the day, I removed my robe and grabbed my underwear. The crew paid no mind, but Cole grinned.

  “I don’t know why you’re grinning. Your ass will burn tomorrow.”

  He cocked his head.

  “I’m fucking you against a tree. Well, I suppose you’ll probably be facing the tree and—”

  “Fuck you, Erickson. I’m sure they’ll make it so I’m not against bark.”

  They would, but teasing him was half the fun.

  “You going to invite your friend up to Whistler?”

  In a heartbeat, his expression changed. Something darker, foreboding. Had I stepped in it?

  “Can’t. She’s in South Sudan.”

  What the fuck? “Not as a tourist, I assume.”

  He shook his head, pulling on his briefs. “Nah, she’s a nurse with Médecins Sans Frontières. Not due back for another six months. She just re-upped again. Without coming home.”

  No doubt in my mind that he hurt. Deeply. “She’s a better person than I am.” I donated plenty to charities but had never visited a third world country. Never seen that kind of deprivation up close. I had done a few stints helping the homeless in LA, but it didn’t rival working in a war zone. Couldn’t.

  “She’s better than all of us.”

  Defiance flashed in his blue eyes. Well, I wasn’t going to argue. Then, in the next instant, the fury dissipated.

  “Sorry, man. I worry about her so much it makes me sick. She’d hate me for it, though. Believes she’s self-sufficient and nothing bad can happen to her.”

  I flashed to Desmond. “We’re none of us immortal.”

  “Or infallible.” He pulled his T-shirt over his head, mussing his hair.

  God, the man was sexy as fuck but did nothing for me.

  He pulled on his jeans, zi
pped them up, and shoved his feet in his shoes. “I’m heading home for a shower, then driving up to Whistler. I’ve got a friend up there I’m crashing with.”

  “Friend or ‘friend?’ ” I made air quotes.

  He threw his robe at me, and it landed square on my chest.

  “A singer I met a few years ago. She and her wife are always happy to play host, and I’ve missed them.” He snagged his backpack. “She’s pregnant with twins, so this’ll likely be the last time I see them before there are rug rats.” He shuddered.

  Interesting. “You don’t like kids?”

  Another wistful expression. “I like kids fine. Just a reminder of what I can’t have.”

  Before I could argue the point, he waved and clocked it out of there. Well, good to know how he felt. Passionately.

  How did Thomas feel about kids? When I started dating Desmond, I’d made the decision I wouldn’t be having kids. He was older, had three ex-wives and at least four children. No, he was more than finished with kids, and since I loved him, I shelved any thought of children. Wasn’t in the cards. Now? Forty-two wasn’t too old, but did I have a burning need? Honestly, I didn’t.

  I grabbed my overnight bag and headed for the door.

  ****

  “This place is amazing.” Thomas stood in the front door, gazing up at the high ceilings and wood finishing. Wood everywhere. Classic and cozy.

  I nudged him farther into the room, and he did finally move, although slowly.

  The most amazing smell hit, and I followed the scent to the kitchen. A crockpot with ribs marinating sat prominently. A handwritten note with instructions lay beside it on the counter. Nothing to do except dishing it up. A bottle of wine chilled in the fridge, and salad waited to have dressing added. In moments like these, I appreciated being rich. I wouldn’t even have to do the dishes—a cleaning service would do them while we filmed tomorrow. All I had to do was enjoy the dinner.

  Thomas’s runners squeaking on the floor alerted me to his presence. Well, I’d have noticed anyway. His presence called to me. Awareness prickled when he was close. I wanted to explore more of that, but food beckoned.

  “I put your suitcase in the master suite. There’s a soaker tub with a view of the mountain. Swear to God, this place is amazing.”

  Turning, I met his gaze. Yeah, amazing was the right word. Only it described more than our surroundings.

  “Are those ribs?” His grin was wide and infectious.

  “Yep.”

  He washed his hands and then got plates while I washed mine. I pulled the salad bowl and wine out of the fridge as he placed two wineglasses on the counter. I dished up the ribs while he apportioned salad and dressing. I poured the wine while he sliced the fresh-baked French bread into thick slices, slathering on the butter. I’d need a good run to burn off so many calories.

  Or one night of hot sweaty sex.

  Right, like there was any debate which I’d prefer.

  I opened the sliding glass door off the kitchen, then went back for my food and wine. Within moments we were settled on the deck. The sun touched the top of the trees, sinking farther by the moment. We sat, silently held up our wine glasses, and then dug into our food. The next ten minutes was moans of pleasure, licking of lips and fingers, and gorging on what I’d say hands-down were the best ribs I’d ever eaten.

  Or maybe it was the company.

  After snagging a cloth napkin, I rubbed my fingers in some vain attempt to remove the barbeque sauce. Some major scrubbing and soap were in my future. Speaking of which… “Shower with me?” Holy hell, talk about laying it on the line. We’d held hands the entire drive up, talking about anything and everything. Thomas managed to engage Jo in our conversation. What a surprise, she enjoyed race-car driving in her downtime.

  Thomas did a discreet search on his phone and found she’d won several trophies. He kept quiet because clearly she wasn’t comfortable about that part of her hobby. She and Thomas talked cars a bit, and I tuned out. I’d never been a car guy, but watching Thomas animatedly discussing them was a treat. Hell, everything about him was a treat.

  I want more.

  He grabbed a napkin to wipe off the worst of the sauce. “We need to bring the plates in, or we’ll have wildlife visitors in the night.”

  Fair enough. He hadn’t accepted my invitation explicitly, but the look of desire in his eyes left no room for doubt. The intensity matched my own, and I downed the last dregs of wine before rising. Mere moments later, the dishes were inside and the door secured. I held out my hand, still a little sticky, and he took it, allowing me to guide him up the stairs. Only my suitcase sat on the floor. I hoped by the end of the night his would join it.

  There were double sinks in the massive bathroom, so we washed our hands. Being bold, I snagged my T-shirt and pulled it over my head, letting it drop to the floor. Instead of waiting for reciprocity, I undid my jeans and slid them down. Finally, I yanked my underwear off. I sported a semi that promised more, but I didn’t want to be presumptuous. I entered the massive shower and adjusted the spray until warm water cascaded. The air was cool, but I was overheated.

  I stepped under the spray, and the water hit my face like needles. Feeling revitalized, I was about to turn when Thomas pressed himself against my back. He slid his arms under mine, reaching up to rest them on my chest. His erection pressed against my ass, and within moments, I was fully erect. Not surprising. Since I’d set eyes on him back at the studio days ago, the entire time had been foreplay. A chance to get to know each other while the attraction simmered there in the wings—waiting for its chance to come out and take center stage.

  He pressed a kiss between my shoulder blades, and I sighed. I missed this kind of intimacy. The press of bodies, the smell of skin, the sensuality of being this close with another person. Then, without warning, a torrent of emotions unleashed on me. This was the first time being with someone since Desmond died. As grief clogged my throat, Thomas tightened his grip.

  “It’s okay, Peter. Let it out.”

  I wanted to. Wanted to howl with the injustice of losing my lover. Wanted to rail against the fates that’d taken him from me. Wanted to strike out against whatever force stole him from me. But I didn’t. Instead I turned the desperation inward. I yanked Thomas’s arms from me, spun, and pressed him back against the cold tiled wall. Taking his jaw in one hand, I pulled him down for a kiss. A fierce kiss. I poured everything I had into claiming him, owning him. He wasn’t a substitute for Desmond, but he was someone I could possess. A living breathing embodiment of everything I’d ever wanted.

  He placed his hands on my ass and pulled me tighter, grinding against me. Our cocks brushed, and I saw stars. Never more had I wanted to drop to my knees and give a blow job. Why the fuck not? “I want to blow you.”

  His eyes widened in the dim light, pupils dilating. “Oh, fuck, yes. Please.”

  Getting on my knees wasn’t graceful, but I did it quickly. I grasped the base of his cock and pressed my lips to the tip. As I eased the head in, I speared his slit with my tongue. His hands sought either side of my head, grasping lightly but securely. Emboldened, I took him in farther.

  I’d done this many times, and yet this felt like the first. A new man and a new bombardment of everything—scent, taste, and most importantly, emotion. My tears mixed with the water as I sucked harder, moving my mouth up and down his shaft. Giving him all of me, holding nothing back. I wanted this as much as my next breath, and as I deep-throated him and my airway was blocked, that sentiment was even more meaningful.

  Little whimpers and moans escaped his throat as I increased the pace. His grip on my scalp tightened, and then, suddenly, he tried to pull back. I held on tighter, sucking harder.

  “I’m going to come.” He forced the words through gritted teeth.

  I grinned to myself. Good.

  That was the point. I didn’t withdraw, and within moments his cum hit the back of my throat. Relief washed over me, almost out of proportion for the moment
. Yes, breathing was a bonus, but as I licked him clean and nuzzled his pubic bone, a sense of peace descended.

  It’d be so easy to love this man.

  Euphoria of sex or something deeper? I had no idea. The hot water continued to pound down, but we might not have an unlimited supply. Reluctantly, I rose. Thomas helped me, pulling me close and into his arms. Meeting his gaze through wet lashes, I encouraged him to tilt his head down and to take my mouth. He’d be able to taste himself, and to me at least, that was always erotic. Something illicit about sharing such an intimate bond.

  His fingers grazed my cock, reminding me I was still hard as a rock. I moaned, letting him know his attention was not only welcome but needed. His hand encircled me, and I thrust into his fist.

  “I don’t know how to do this.”

  His words nearly broke me, a reality check that this was new to him. “Whatever you do will bring me pleasure.” Well, tugging too hard or squeezing too tight might not work, but he was a guy and likely to have already discovered those things. Even as I said the words, he set a steady yet demanding pace. Would a bit of lube make things easier? Perhaps, but I was too far gone, and within moments my release seized me, and I came. Hard.

  He continued his ministrations, gentler now. After swiping his finger over my cockhead, he brought the finger to his mouth and sucked. Lust snaked through me as he leaned in for another kiss. Again, his touch was unschooled, but that brought a headiness with it. I was the first man he’d ever done this with. Special. This was so special.

  “Let me wash you.”

  His husky words washed over me, and I nodded. He pumped out some shampoo as I turned my back to him. Within moments he soaped up my hair, using his fingernails to dig into my scalp. God, I loved that feeling. The barely leashed aggression and yet tenderness at the same time. More pumps and the fresh scent of bodywash filled the space.

  He stroked down my back to the crack of my ass. Just a quick swipe before he turned me. More soap and he caressed my pecs, down my abs, and into my pubic hair. He grazed my sensitive cock, and I groaned. I wasn’t up for another round, but man, did his touch heal something deep inside me. Easing me back into the spray, he washed away the shampoo, gentle and easy.