NINETEEN
Colby’s eyes burned from lack of sleep as he lifted his chin above the bar in his garage/workout room. Last night he’d been exhausted when he’d gotten back into bed after walking Georgia home, but he’d tossed and turned, waking up every hour on the hour. Last night had been great. Beyond great. But Georgia’s leaving had left him unsettled. He understood why she needed to be back at her place. And it wasn’t like it was a requirement for him. He rarely had lovers spend the night. But when he’d gotten back from Georgia’s, his bed had felt damn empty.
Being with her last night had felt more right than anything had in a long time. He’d started out keeping it focused on exploring some of her boundaries, almost making it like one of his beginner training sessions. Fun and sexy but clinical in a way. That was what he was used to. But once he’d gotten her into his bedroom and had seen that she’d written no numbers down, everything had shifted. Something about Georgia made him feel more dialed in, more present. Even the mild kink they’d done had felt more intense than any of the extreme stuff he’d practiced at The Ranch lately.
Plus, those moments in the kitchen when he had her under his hand, knowing she knew Keats was listening. Well, it’d added a layer that Colby hadn’t been able to ignore. He’d felt like he was getting a taste of what he’d been starving for over the last few months. And it was all temporary.
Temporary. Like his job might be. Like his whole life might be right now.
He’d finally given up hope for sleep around six this morning and had gotten up to get some things done. First, he’d called Principal Anders to check in, and she’d told him that she’d set up an appointment for him late this afternoon to speak with the powers that be to give his side. She’d also informed him that a doctor had interviewed Travis, and the kid had admitted he’d been off his meds for two months and had been lying to Dr. Guthrie about it. So even if Colby had asked him, he wouldn’t have gotten an accurate answer. Anders had said she thought that boded well for getting Colby cleared and back to work.
It’d been welcome news for sure. He’d gone over that session with Travis in his head again and again. And though he wished he could’ve done something to prevent what had happened, in his heart, he knew he hadn’t been negligent in Travis’s care. But he still couldn’t relax. Travis’s parents weren’t going to stop looking to place blame. And they had money to burn if they wanted to drag this thing out. But at least Rowan seemed to be in his corner, and he would get a chance to tell his side later today to the board. He just hoped that and the truth were enough.
Thinking about all his students being shuffled around and tossed onto Dr. Guthrie’s caseload made his stomach hurt. He’d made a promise to those kids. He was supposed to be the one who was there for them when they needed it. He’d promised Katelyn Bowie that he’d teach her relaxation exercises so that she could calm down before her big algebra test. That test had now come and gone. And he’d finally gotten Jake Latham, after months of near-silent sessions, to start talking about his mother’s death. Now the kid would have to start over again with Guthrie.
It was fucking brutal being stuck at home, doing goddamned nothing, when he could be working with those kids. By seven, Colby had whipped himself up into a restless, angry state just thinking about it. So he’d turned to his first method of stress relief—music. He’d locked himself in his office and had managed to bang out a chorus for a song he’d been working on.
But even after all the creative effort, he’d still felt wired and restless. He’d gone downstairs to see if Keats needed anything, but Keats had already left to run an errand for Georgia. So he’d decided to go to his surefire method of clearing his head—exorcism by exercise. Most people who saw him probably assumed he was obsessed with working out, but really, it was the only form of therapy besides music that had ever worked on him. So he’d gone for a long run and was now well into his weights routine, dripping with sweat, but finally starting to feel a little more centered.
He had to keep reminding himself that things in his life had gotten complicated quickly, and his head was screwed up from all the rapid change. In the matter of a few days, his job had blown up, his neighbor had ended up in his bed, and his former student was back from the dead and all grown up. Even someone used to rolling with the punches couldn’t be expected to roll with all that.
At least not all of it was bad news.
Keats was here and safe. Sure, living with him was going to be . . . interesting. Colby’s wires were all kinds of crossed when it came to Keats, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t handle himself around him. He’d just need to set up some clear boundaries and stop doing stupid shit that blurred it—like letting Keats listen again last night. That’d been a lust-based decision, not a responsible one. Colby usually didn’t let his dick overtake his good sense. He wasn’t the guy who went off the rails with passion. Discipline and self-control were a bit of a religion for him. But the way Georgia and Keats had looked at each other last night when they’d walked into the kitchen had knocked Colby completely off track. He’d wanted things he shouldn’t.
Now he needed to get his bearings back. He’d set it all back to rights. He’d talk to Keats and establish some rules, apologize for last night. He’d enjoy his time with Georgia even if he knew it had an expiration date. Live for today, right? That’d always worked before.
He did a few more chin-ups, counting off, then dropped back to the ground. He grabbed a towel off the weight bench and mopped it over his face and chest, letting the fast-tempo music he’d put on beat through him. Finally, he could feel his mind settling a bit. But when he turned around, Keats was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame.
Colby threw the towel to the side and pulled his earbuds out. “Hey.”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“No problem.” Colby set his iPod to the side. “Were you able to get what you needed for Georgia?”
Keats stepped into the garage, looking around at the equipment as he did. “Yeah, just got back. She needed some boxes to ship books. I tried to get her to come with me, but she wasn’t ready.”
“Give her time.”
“I know. But it’s tough seeing anyone cooped up like that. It must feel like prison.” He tossed Colby the bottle of water he’d been holding.
“Thanks.” Colby caught it and twisted the cap off. “Yeah, it’s hard not to want to push.”
“I imagine it’s even harder for someone like you.”
Colby took a long swig of water. “Meaning?”
“You’re used to getting your way.”
Colby sniffed.
“She wouldn’t stay last night, huh?”
“Eavesdropping again?”
Keats gave him a come-on-now look. “Don’t pretend y’all didn’t want me to. You two were so noisy, they probably heard you across the street.”
Colby grimaced. “Sorry. Honestly. I’m sure that’s the last thing you needed when you’re still healing up and needing rest. I’m not used to worrying about having other people in the house. I’ll put on music next time.” He took another gulp of water, desperately wanting to change the subject. “Did you at least get some sleep after Georgia left?”
He shrugged. “Not much.”
Colby set the water aside and straddled the weight bench. “Are you in a lot of pain still?”
Keats grabbed the chin-up bar, his arms stretching out above his head. It raised the hem of his T-shirt, revealing how low-slung his jeans were and how dark the bruise on his side had gotten. Colby forced his focus upward.
“No, that’s not what kept me up, just couldn’t stop thinking.” He swung his body forward a bit, hanging from the bar like a lazy monkey.
The position had Colby imagining what Keats would look like if Colby cuffed those wrists to the metal rod and locked a spreader bar between Keats’s ankles, tugged down those jeans, leaving Keats helpless and on display. Colby’s cock twitched with awareness. Fuck. Even after a fantastic night with Georgia, his body still wanted to hop up and pant for one Adam Keats.
This was exactly why Colby had never tried to get married. He loved women, but he could never fully turn off one switch for the other. He was that annoying guy who perpetuated the unfair assumption that bisexuals couldn’t commit to one side long term.
Colby scooted backward, willing his dick to stand down so he could lie back and do a few bench presses, anything to get his eyes off Keats.
When he was sure his body was cooperating, he rolled down onto his back. Keats stepped behind the head of the bench and put his hands on the weight bar to spot Colby. He loomed over Colby now, his expression pensive. Colby lifted the bar and brought it down to his chest, trying to ignore how close Keats was. He closed his eyes and began to pump the weights. One. Breathe. Two. Breathe. Three.
“Thinking about what?” Colby asked finally. It was easier now that he wasn’t looking at him.
“All the stuff you told me the other night. And all the stuff I heard last night.”
“Mmm,” Colby said noncommittally. Four. Five. Six.
He could hear Keats shifting behind him. Breathing a little too quickly. He smelled like the Irish Spring soap Colby kept in the guest bathroom.
“I want to know what I am,” Keats said after a long pause.
The bar slipped a bit in Colby’s hands, and Keats reached out to grab it and take some of the weight. Colby pressed his teeth together and pushed the weights back into the holder. He couldn’t have this type of conversation on his back with a couple hundred pounds hanging over him. He slid forward and sat up to face Keats, who was managing to keep his expression entirely impassive.
“You mean the submissive thing?”
“I mean all of it.”
All of it. Colby could take that a hundred different ways. He grabbed the towel again to give his hands something to do. He could feel Keats’s gaze on him. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”
“The other night you said you couldn’t really know until you tried it.”
Colby scrubbed the towel through his damp hair. “I did.”
“Are you working at that place this weekend?”
Scrub, scrub, scrub. “Haven’t decided yet.”
“If you do, can I go?”
Colby dropped the towel and stood. “Nope.”
“What?” Keats asked, stepping around the bench. “Why the hell not?”
Colby headed toward the kitchen, the garage feeling too small all of a sudden, the air too thick, but Keats followed. “Because unless you have a dom who’s a member to get you in, it’s ten grand to join.”
“Fuck. Ten grand? Jesus,” he said, sounding awed. “But you’re a member and an employee. Couldn’t you get me in?”
Colby yanked the fridge handle so hard, he rattled all the condiments and knocked over a jar of olives. “Only if you were going in as my submissive.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh,” Colby said, pulling out a carton of yogurt and setting it on the counter. He bumped the fridge shut with his hip and tugged the dishwasher open to find a clean spoon, his back to Keats. He didn’t want to think about Keats like this. He didn’t want to imagine what he’d look like naked or chained down or taking the sting of a flogger. And he especially didn’t want to think of some stranger doing that to him. But guilt nipped at him. It’d taken balls for Keats to even bring this up. And God knows Colby had subjected him to an earful of shit over the past few days. If the guy really was curious about kink, he had the right to explore it. He sighed. “Look, if you really want to check some stuff out, there are a few local clubs that aren’t as exclusive. There’s a good dominatrix I know at the—”
A hand gripped Colby’s shoulder, and every muscle in his body went taut. He spun around and before he could process what was happening, Keats braced his hands on the counter on each side of Colby. “Would you do it if I said you could?”
“Do what?”
“Show me what it’s like. You, not some random person.”
Keats was too close and though Colby still had a few inches on him in height, he was not happy being in the less dominant position. He moved Keats’s arm aside and stepped around him. “No.”
“Why?” A hard, determined edge was creeping into Keats’s voice.
Colby groaned and raked a hand through his still-wet hair. “You don’t even know what you’re asking, what showing you would look like.”
“You said you don’t fuck your trainees.”
He scoffed. “You think that’s all there is to worry about? You want my hands on you, Keats? Everywhere? This isn’t goddamned guitar lessons.”
Keats was across the kitchen in three strides. Before Colby could even react, Keats grabbed Colby’s wrist and brought his hand right against the crotch of his jeans. He was hard beneath Colby’s palm. “I don’t fucking get this.” He shoved Colby’s hand away and stepped back, his neck shading pink even though his eyes were full of challenge. “I like women. In fact, I like your woman. Dudes don’t hit my radar. But when you say shit, that happens. And last night when I heard what I heard, I wanted to be part of it. The sound of you . . . hitting her turned me on. So if that’s the whole submissive thing, then I want to know.”
Colby blinked, startled into speechlessness for a moment.
“I hate feeling like this. Off balance. Confused. I feel like a goddamned teenager again when I’m around you. If I’m going to be staying here awhile, I don’t want to live like that. I need to get”—Keats waved his hand between them—“whatever is going on here figured out.”
Colby gripped the counter behind him, trying to will his body’s reaction into stoicism. “And you think I’m the person to help you figure this out?”
“This is hard enough to talk about already. I definitely don’t want to try shit with someone I don’t know. But look, I know you’ve got a good thing with Georgia, and I don’t want to mess that up because she’s great. And I don’t know, I mean, I don’t even know if you’re like . . . attracted to me or whatever needs to be there. I just—”
“That’s not the issue.”
Keats looked up. “Huh?”
“Attraction isn’t the issue,” he said simply.
Keats swallowed. “Oh.”
“But you’re young and inexperienced when it comes to kink, and you’ve never been with a guy. Yes, I’m a trainer. But this wouldn’t be splashing around in the shallow end, Keats. Don’t trick yourself into thinking this would be some sterile business arrangement. Even if I never fucked you, it’d be an inherently intimate and sexual dynamic.”
“Is that always the case?” he asked. “With everyone you train?”
“No. But it would be with you. I know myself well enough to know I’m not capable of treating you like one of my paying students. And I’m not sure you’re ready for what submitting to me really entails or if you’re even capable of it.”
Keats’s throat bobbed.
“The fact that you get turned on around me may simply be you responding to dominance. Maybe that’s what it always was. You said you’ve never been attracted to other guys. What happens when I put you on your knees and tell you to suck my cock? Or tie you down and slide a plug in your ass?”
Keats laced his hands behind his neck as a little flash of panic crossed his face, confirming Colby’s fears. “I—”
Colby moved forward and put a hand on Keats’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze and trying to hide the twinge of disappointment that he was right. “There are wonderful female dommes I trust who I could introduce you to. It doesn’t have to be me. Maybe it’s best it isn’t.”
Keats lifted his head, and Colby started to step away. But before he could, Keats locked a firm grip on Colby’s hip and stepped into his space.
“What are—”
Keats’s mouth was on his in the span between blinks. Colby froze for a second, completely unaccustomed to someone else making the first move. People didn’t put their hands on him without permission. But after the initial rush of shock, his lips responded before his brain caught up.
Keats wasn’t tentative or careful. The kiss was hot and hungry and the grip on Colby’s bare waist, hard. If Keats was scared, he wasn’t showing it. Lips parted and Keats’s tongue slipped into Colby’s mouth, eliciting an unintentional groan from Colby. His hand drifted from Keats’s shoulder to lock around the base of his neck, taking back some control. Hard against hard met in the quiet of the kitchen, Colby’s still-sweaty chest mashing against Keats’s T-shirt. As the kiss deepened, Colby’s cock begin to stiffen, his length pressing against the ridge in Keats’s jeans.
Now it was Keats’s turn to groan. His fingers dug into Colby’s skin like he couldn’t get close enough, like he wanted every part of them touching. Colby knew they should stop, figure out what the fuck was happening, but it all felt too good, too hot, too everything. There was such a rough hunger burning between them that if he let himself move, he worried that he might just strip Keats out of his clothes and fuck him across the countertop. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he didn’t trust himself.
But before he could get himself in trouble, a sound from the other side of the kitchen distracted them both. Keats stiffened against Colby, and they both jolted back from each other as if they’d been simultaneously cattle-prodded. Colby turned toward the side door. Through the glass, he could see Georgia standing there wide-eyed, her hand still poised for the knock she’d given the door.
“Fuck,” Keats said behind him.
Georgia turned on her heel, looking like she was going to head right back to her house.
“Shit.” Colby lurched forward, crossing the few steps to the door, and yanked it open. “Georgia, wait.”
She kept moving, her back to him, and waved a hand. “Um, no, that’s okay. I’ll leave you two alone. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Damn. Damn. Damn. Colby told Keats he’d be right back, then jogged to reach Georgia. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, hold up.”
She stopped and turned to face him. She had her lips rolled inward and looked like a kid who’d gotten caught spying. “Really, it’s fine. I was only coming over because Keats left his phone at my place when he dropped off the boxes. But clearly, he doesn’t need it at the moment.”
Colby rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. God, he must look like a major asshole right now. They hadn’t made any exclusive arrangements, but they’d shared something special last night and today, he was . . . “Georgia, I’m sorry you had to see that, I—”
“I’m not,” she said, cutting him off with a little laugh. She handed Keats’s cell phone over to him. “That’s an image I’ll hold on to, thank you very much.”
He looked up, eyebrows raised. “What?”
Those full lips curved upward as her gaze traveled over his naked chest. “All that was missing were the sprinklers.”
“You’re not pissed?” he asked, staring at this strange creature who didn’t seem bothered he’d been locking lips with someone else. “Hurt?”
She sighed. “Look, I told you up front I didn’t want this thing between us to be serious. I didn’t ask for it to be exclusive. And yeah, if it had been someone I didn’t know kissing you, I’d probably be hurt, but I don’t know . . .” She gave a little shrug. “It’s Keats. I already could tell there was something there between you two, so it’s not a total shock that this could happen. And it’s not like I haven’t seen you with other people before, so maybe I’ve built up some immunity. Plus, well, you two look hot together.”
He crossed his arms. “Is that right?”
She poked him. “Now don’t go fishing for compliments.”
“Never.”
She gave him a yeah, right look but went on. “Look, I’m a grown woman who understands what casual means. I wasn’t putting up a front on that, secretly hoping you’d commit to me. But if you and Keats are going to pursue something more than that, then you just need to tell me. I know I’m leaving soon, and if this could be something real between you two, I can step aside. I don’t want to inter—”
“Wait, that’s not what I’m suggesting at all.”
She tucked her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, her head tilted and her halo of dark curly hair catching the sunlight. “No?”
“I mean, I’m not sure what all this is with Keats. It’s . . . I don’t know. Fuck.” He raked a hand through his hair, all the questions rushing to the surface now that his brain was catching up with what had happened in the kitchen. “Keats is confused and trying to figure things out. He kissed me, but that doesn’t mean anything. He’s trying things on for size, I guess.”
Georgia sniffed. “And starting with Extra Large. That looked like more than trying, Colby.”
It’d felt like more, too, but he wasn’t going to mark that down as truth yet. Keats could be in the house freaking the fuck out right now. “He thinks he could be submissive, so he wants me to show him some things. Training. That kiss . . . well, that just kind of happened. It’s complicated. But it doesn’t change how I feel about you. Last night was amazing, and there’s no way I’m ready to let you slip away from me so soon.”
“Wait, he thinks he’s submissive?” Her brown eyes went a little round at that. “Wow, that’s . . .”
“That’s what?” he asked, catching her change in tone.
She glanced toward the house. “That just gives me really, really impure thoughts. I mean, your dominance obviously works for me. Really works for me. But I won’t pretend that the thought of Keats going all slave boy isn’t ridiculously hot. Not that I’m totally stunned. He’s got that way about him, you know?”
Colby gave her a slow grin, her words tamping down some of his anxiety over the situation. “That look like he’d do everything possible to blow a lover’s mind?”
“God, yes, that one.”
Colby chuckled. “You’re a dirty girl, Ms. Delaune.”
“I am. It’s a new personality flaw, apparently. I think I caught it from you.”
Colby slipped an arm around her waist and drew her against him. “I like it. A lot.”
“Me, too.”
He leaned back a little, gazing down at her. “So we’re good? Please tell me we’re good, because last night was fantastic.”
“We’re good, big man.” She wrapped her arms around him. “And really, if it turns out to be more than a kiss with Keats, I’m okay with that.”
He smiled. “You know? I believe you on that. But I think it’s time to set up a few guidelines. Because even though we’re doing casual, I want you to know I’m not interested in bed-hopping all over the place. I take this seriously.”
“What kind of guidelines?” she asked, her head tipping to the side in that oh, do tell way that he found unbearably sexy.
“While we’re seeing each other, this doesn’t go beyond the three of us,” he said, the plan forming in his head as he spoke. “If I decide to train Keats—and that’s a big if, because God knows we have a lot to discuss before that’s even a possibility—you have my word that no one else is in my bed besides the two of you.”
“Okay,” she said slowly.
“And you give me your word on the same.”
“That I won’t see anyone else?”
“That you won’t sleep with anyone else besides me . . . or Keats.”
Her brows scrunched. “Keats? But that’s not—he’s going to be working for me and he’s twenty-three and—”
“And you’re attracted to each other and might have wanted to kiss each other last night and stuff could happen,” Colby finished. “I’m not saying it has to. That’s up to the two of you, but I’m letting you know that it’s fine if it does.”
She blinked, obviously stunned into silence.
He cupped her face and kissed her. “Deal?”
“I’m not going to fool around with Keats. He’s working for me.”
“Your call, gorgeous,” he said, not wanting to push her, but knowing that if Keats dialed up the charm, Georgia might find him hard to resist. Colby clearly wasn’t doing well with that particular temptation, and Keats had been anything but charming toward him. Plus, he had a feeling that Georgia had watched Colby’s threesomes with more than a passing interest.
She sighed. “You’ve got my head spinning, Colby Wilkes.”
“Good.” He tugged on one of her curls. “Come over for dinner tonight.”
“Don’t you think you and Keats need to talk this out? I’ll be in the way.”
He grimaced.
She poked him in the chest again. “Don’t be such a man. The guy just had his first boy-on-boy kiss. And you made out with your former student. That stuff needs to be discussed, or he’s going to end up running away again. He might be packing his bags already.”
Colby looked to the sky, feeling the weight of all of it. “I’ll handle it.”
Though he wasn’t sure what he was more afraid of finding once he got back to his house—Keats regretting the kiss and backtracking.
Or Keats not . . .