Page 64 of Pieces of Me

“It turned me on,” Rylan admitted. “Why do you think I went looking for a hookup? You’re good at your job. Selling sex.”

Scott put the camera down. “You know I never fuck my VIP clients, right? What I’m selling is a fantasy. We’re not a brothel, and I’m not a rent boy.”

“I know,” Rylan said reassuringly. “But it’s a hell of a fantasy, and I was totally caught up in it.” He shifted in his seat. “I wanted to chuck my camera and join in.”

Scott flashed him a heavy-lidded glance, surprising yet another blush on Rylan’s cheeks. He chuckled. “I wouldn’t have stopped you,” he said with a slow wink, enjoying how the flush deepened. “We could have had some fun. At least with you there I wouldn’t have had to fake the boner.”

Rylan’s lips parted on a small gasp and he looked away quickly. “You know something else that hasn’t changed? You’re still way too overwhelming.”

Scott gave him a lazy smile, a sudden sense of anticipation building, tightening his groin and making his skin tingle. What a perfect ending to an incredible night: sweet Rylan in his bed, the two of them getting to know each other again in the most basic of ways―as experienced men now, not boys. It would be delicious, and Scott couldn’t wait.

Rylan finished his pancakes and had some more coffee, which gave Scott a chance to take deep breaths and calm his body down. The waitress brought the check over, and Scott took care of it, waiting while Rylan organized his backpack once again. They headed out of the diner to the dark street. It was a little after four a.m., and there was a hushed stillness, that quiet lull in the deepest part of the night between the bars and clubs getting out and the morning rush hour starting. Nobody was around.

“Thanks for breakfast―” Rylan started to say, and without a word, Scott reached out and hooked him around the waist with one arm, pulling him flush against his body.

Rylan’s eyes widened almost comically, and he gasped. “What are―”

Scott gave a low chuckle, linking his fingers together at the small of Rylan’s back, settling their lower bodies together. “Just getting reacquainted with you, baby.” Rylan twisted his fists in the fabric of Scott’s tank top, holding himself stiff, his chest and shoulders angled away.

“Scott―”

“Ry. Oh, Ry. Come home with me tonight.” Scott cupped Rylan’s chin in his hand, stroked his thumb over his lips once, and then leaned down and kissed him. Scott groaned at the immediate rush of sensation, the feeling of Rylan’s hot, sweet mouth against his causing his head to swim, the intervening years rolling away. He slid his fingers through Rylan’s hair, angled his head, and deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping inside to plunder, taste.

Dimly Scott felt Rylan’s hands scrabbling at his shoulders, but it wasn’t to pull him closer, and his lips didn’t go soft and pliable under Scott’s but remained stiff, unresponsive. A horrified realization slammed into Scott like a wrecking ball, and he let go of Rylan immediately, shock and embarrassment coursing through him, replacing his arousal. How could he have misread the situation so badly?

“Ry?” he forced out as Rylan backed away from him and ran his hand over his mouth.

“No, Scott,” he rasped. “Just―no.”

“What’s wrong―”

Rylan held up his hand to stop Scott from coming any closer. “What’s wrong? You told me you’re involved with someone! And not only that, if I do get the job at the club, I won’t have anyone saying I got it only because I’m Scott Ashworth’s fuck of the month!”

Scott felt his lips tighten, anger starting to replace the shock. “That’s ridiculous,” he snapped. “Your photos speak for themselves, Rylan. There’s no question you’re talented as hell, and anyone who would dare imply you got the job only because you’re fucking me will get schooled real quick.”

Rylan shook his head stubbornly. “I won’t have anything tainting the integrity of my work. And Scott, your boyfriend doesn’t deserve this either.”

Scott scrubbed his hands through his hair. “He’s not my boyfriend!” he exclaimed harshly. “Who cares what he thinks?”

Rylan froze and stared at Scott, an unfathomable look in his eyes. “I care,” he said quietly. “And if nothing else, I deserve better than this, even if you think he doesn’t.”

Scott didn’t like the feeling of shame that slithered through him, twined around a very real disappointment, and he took refuge in anger. “I don’t know why you’re acting all holier than thou and seeing this as some sort of homewrecker situation,” he growled, “or even as anything meaningful at all. You said you were in the mood for a hookup, and I was offering my cock. End of story.”

A wistfulness filled Rylan’s eyes, and he took a step closer and put his hand on Scott’s forearm, ignoring how he tried to flinch away. “Even when we were kids, I never once valued your cock over your friendship. Not once.”

Don’t make me your experiment. Make me your friend.

Scott pushed the memory away and sneered, knocking Rylan’s hand off his arm. “Sure. As if you didn’t love it when I’d make you come so hard you saw stars. Whatever, Rylan.”

Rylan gave him a reproving look, a tinge of hurt darkening his eyes. “You know the sex was a bonus,” he said, his tone softly insistent, “that enhanced everything else I felt for you. You were my friend first.”

Scott shrugged carelessly. “Whatever,” he repeated. “Well, if we’re not gonna fuck tonight, I’m gonna head on out. See you, Rylan.” He turned his back and ambled off down the street, the picture of unconcern, although his gut was still churning with a toxic mixture of fury and humiliation.

“Thanks for breakfast!” Rylan called after him. “See you at the club, okay?”

Scott didn’t bother to answer, or look back. He just walked away.

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