Chapter 9

It was a mistake. Of course it was. There was no way for me to touch someone like Hugh without wanting more, and wanting more always led to disappointment. I had years of experience to know that without a shred of doubt.

Even with his release still warm on my skin, I knew I needed to leave the shower—leave the room—and get away from him before I said something I'd regret.

"See? My advice the other day was on point. Having a little fun without expectations is good, right?" I asked, studying his face for a reaction. I tried to grin to cover up the frisson of fear crawling through my chest, but when I saw Hugh's forehead crinkle with confusion, I wondered if I'd failed completely.

"Without expectations?" Awkwardness slithered between us, making my wet skin cold where it had been flushed and heated only seconds before. But then Hugh relaxed his face into a smirk. "How can that be when I fully expect you to stay the night in my room?"

I opened my mouth to politely decline, to make a joke about how a casual hookup worked better if there was no overnight cuddle session afterward. But then Hugh grinned and added, "That was a pickup line. Nine-point-five out of ten. Stick with me, Oscar. You'll learn."

The tension between us rolled away like the tide, making things as fun and easy as they always were with Hugh, and suddenly, I couldn't remember why I'd been so determined to leave.

I rolled my eyes and sniffed. "You can't rate yourself. That's against the rules."

Our teasing turned into laughter, and then into kissing… and then into something else entirely. Something I had no language to describe. I found myself reaching for the soap and sliding it over the curves and dips of his body like I was trying to commit every part of him to memory. Hugh stood quietly, watching me and no doubt wondering what I was thinking.

"Oscar, you're shaking again," he said after a few moments. His fingers curled around my wrist to hold my hand away from his body. I couldn't bring myself to look at my trembling hand. "Did you eat?"

"Yes," I said without thinking. "My chef packed dinner for the trip over. I'm fine."

Hugh's eyes met mine. "Oscar… what…?" He seemed to see something in my expression that stopped his inquiry in its tracks. "You sure you're okay?"

I flashed him a bright smile. "Of course I am. Good meal, good orgasm. The perfect end to a hectic day and a really hectic week."

His smile was a little less convincing than I hoped mine was. We finished washing each other without speaking and stepped out of the shower to dry ourselves off.

Hugh peeled back the crisp duvet and climbed into the large bed. I contemplated how best to extricate myself—a quick excuse and I could be out of there, off to my own room, where I could smack myself on the forehead and curse myself for stepping into this minefield against my better judgment. But then he smiled at me, a real smile this time, with that adorably crooked canine on display, and I was helpless to do anything but climb into the bed and follow him under the covers, pulling him against me.

"So, you're helping out a photographer friend this weekend?" I asked in an effort to distract myself from this colossal mistake.

His damp curls slid against my chin as he nodded. "Yeah. My friend Brant. If I'd known whose wedding it was or put two and two together faster when I saw Roman and Scotty earlier, I'd have warned you I'd be here, but?—"

"No one who saw your face on the beach could doubt how surprised we both were. Roman said I looked like I saw a ghost." He'd also asked who Hugh was to me and had seemed unconvinced when I'd said we were friends. "So, is Brant the good-looking guy you were standing next to on the beach?"

Unfortunately, my question came out tinged with something almost like… jealousy, which was ridiculous. That wasn't what Hugh and I were about. Not at all.

My arms tightened around Hugh involuntarily, but if he noticed, he didn't comment on it. "Mmm. Brant's got a family connection here. I think he's afraid he might get caught up talking to the guests and miss a critical shot." He sounded fond and amused. "God knows he has enough to keep him busy."

"I didn't know you had a friend on the Cape. You haven't mentioned him. Do you and Brant… I mean, do you come up here often?" I clamped my teeth shut against the awkwardness of my own insecurity. Why was I even asking this? I shouldn't care.

I didn't care.

At this strange barrage of questions, Hugh tilted his head back to look at me, but I couldn't meet his eyes. "I try to get to the Cape a couple of times every summer, mostly to go to P-Town. If I can catch up with Brant while I'm here, that's even better."

"Uh-huh. So it's just a casual… friendship-thing." I wasn't sure how that fit into Hugh's holding-out-for-love philosophy, but I understood casual friendship hookups. I'd had plenty of them over the years. Hell, if one wanted to get technical about it, that's what Hugh and I were doing currently?—

"Whoa. Unclench, Oscar. What made you so tense all of a sudden?" Hugh's lips turned up at the corners, and he reached up to press a finger between my own eyebrows. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were jealous."

I huffed out a breath. "Hardly." My stomach twisted at the lie.

Hugh leaned up on one elbow. "Brant and I worked a fashion show together in Boston a couple of years ago. We commiserated together over the harsh working conditions with the overly demanding designer. After that, we became friends and began referring jobs to each other. He and his wife are friends of the grooms." He lifted an eyebrow at the word "wife."

I was an ass. Moreover, it was none of my fucking business. "From your messages, I'd assumed you were working a wedding in the city."

Hugh reached out to brush a strand of damp hair off my forehead and wound up tangling his fingers at the crown of my head. "And I thought yours was overseas."

I shook my head gently, not wanting to displace his hand. "I got home late last night and spent today trying to catch up. Then, I had a meeting with Chuckie this afternoon so he could demonstrate some upgrades he made to his invention. It went longer than I expected, which is why I was late."

Hugh's eyes softened. "How'd that go? Did anything get accidentally incinerated?" he asked teasingly.

"Nah, but he wanted to ask me about another idea he has, and he was so damned excited about it I couldn't cut him off to leave on time." Not to mention, feeling that zing of excitement over a new project had reminded me of the way I'd felt when I'd first started my company. It was fulfilling. A lot like lying here with Hugh.

But I didn't need to spend too much time dwelling on how fulfilling that felt. Dwelling led to dangerous things, like feelings.

Changing the subject, I asked, "So, how are you doing? Last time we talked, you were…"

"Drunk off my ass?" Hugh's smile lost some of its luster as he glanced away. "I'm okay. I realized earlier today that I feel more embarrassed than heartbroken, which is a pretty good sign Louis wasn't The One. I guess it was pretty stupid of me to think a divorce attorney could fall for a romantic, huh?"

"Hey," I said, taking his chin in my hands and turning his head until his eyes found mine. "Louis is an idiot," I told him. "You're an amazing person, Hugh Linzee. Don't let anyone ever make you feel otherwise."

"Am I?" His smile dimmed. "You must think I'm the worst kind of fool to keep putting my heart out there all the time. Sometimes I wonder if it would be better to be more like you, and?—"

"No," I said, more forcefully than I'd intended. "No. I've told you before, you're braver and stronger than I could ever be. And I mean that. I've dated a lot of men—and don't you dare make a comment about it being half the gay population of New York because it is not," I added.

As I'd known he would, Hugh smiled softly.

"But I've never fallen in love. Not really. Not the kind of love that Wells, and Roman, and James have each found. Not the kind that made me rearrange all my priorities and make someone the center of my life. Not once." I shrugged. "My friend Boone… he's the closest I've come. And now he's gone and twisted himself up over the most appalling creature."

"Richard," Hugh returned promptly, resting his chin on my chest. "Who sounds a lot like you."

"Hush. You're being insulting and ruining this friendly conversation."

Hugh mimed zipping his lips.

"As I was saying. Boone tells me that I need to keep ‘putting my heart out there,' and somehow, love will find me. A year ago, I might have said I'd already tried that, but…" I watched my fingers card their way through Hugh's curls. "After knowing you, after seeing how you are, I'm starting to realize that maybe I simply don't have the talent for ‘putting my heart out there.'"

He snorted. "It's hardly a talent. Anyone can?—"

"But they can't." I tugged his hair gently to make sure he was paying attention. "Trust me," I said firmly. "Some of us simply can't. It's a little bit like hearing that guy from Toxic Echo do his epic drum solo in ‘Vessel of You' and knowing your own musical ability began and ended with learning ‘Twinkle, Twinkle' on the recorder in third grade. Sure, you could make an effort, practice all day and maybe learn a few scales, but it would be a waste of time when you know you'll never be able to play the piece the way it deserves to be played. A perfectionist like you should understand the difference better than anyone. Being open to love, loving easily… it's a gift, Hugh. You shouldn't settle for less."

Hugh regarded me steadily, but his brown eyes were so soft and warm they made me yearn for something I couldn't even identify. And that yearning made me incredibly uncomfortable. Almost, just a little bit, terrified.

"Enough of that." I forced a yawn. "Good lord, talking drivel is tiring."

"Uh-huh." Hugh tugged gently on my hair. "It's definitely not that you've crossed twelve time zones in the last week to get to this wedding, right? You must be exhausted."

I was tired, and I might have been truly exhausted… if I wasn't so completely turned on by Hugh's nearness and the all-encompassing kindness and security that emanated from his very being.

"Yes," I said, leaning forward to kiss his lips. "So tired." His tongue tasted of sweet white wine, and I deepened the kiss to chase it. We made out for a while, for the simple joy of kissing, but before long, his little moans and whimpers fired my blood again, and I decided this time I wanted his cock in my mouth and the scent of him in my nose.

I kissed hungrily down his body, my mouth finding him hard and ready. His fingers gripped my hair and held on while I teased and sucked and stroked him until the noises he made filled the room around us.

"Oscar, fuck. Fuck, please. God, just like that. Fuck." The deep sounds of his desire tightened my gut until I was humping the bed between his legs like a dog. I couldn't remember feeling this out of control before, like he could say something that would make me change everything I'd ever believed in just to give him one solid moment of happiness.

As soon as he spilled hot and bitter into my mouth, I lunged back up to kiss him on the mouth again, taking myself in hand and stroking rapidly until my own release stuttered between us through desperate breaths and grunts. It wasn't pretty. It was raw and real, messy and a little bit unhinged.

And so fucking complicated.

My brain began to whirr as I rushed through cleaning the two of us up, with any number of unhelpful devil's advocates suggesting possible ways I could work things out with Hugh on a more-than-temporary basis.

It was hopeless, of course. I knew better than to try yet again. Wasn't the definition of insanity trying the same thing over and over and expecting a different result? And what would it mean for our friendship if we tried and failed? I'd meant what I'd told him: I didn't want Hugh to settle for less than true love, which was the one thing that, despite all my billions, I absolutely could not give him, even if I wanted to.

Hugh's steady presence against my back eventually calmed me down, but I still couldn't sleep. I tried to slow my breathing.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked softly.

The last thing I wanted was more talk when I was still busy mulling over our last discussion.

Put your heart out there. Right.

I mentally glared at Boone, all the way out in Wyoming. Of all the terrible advice that anyone had ever given. Trying to explain how to fall in love was like trying to explain the mechanics of whistling to someone who'd never accomplished it before. It was a whole lot of effort for a little bit of hot air.

"Nothing to talk about," I lied. "It's the time zone thing, mostly."

Hugh's warm hand ran across my shoulder and down my back. "Are you worried about Frank? Is he still sick from the raspberries?"

I shook my head, secretly enjoying the fact he'd remembered my baby had overindulged in his favorite treat before the Macau trip. "Not really. Dr. Charlie says he's doing fine. I think the lazybones was malingering so he wouldn't have to make an appearance at the wedding. But I'll be happy to see him Sunday night."

It occurred to me, though, that I'd have to say goodbye to Hugh before reuniting with Frank. The thought depressed me, so I tried to change the subject. To force myself to stop thinking about impossibilities.

"I'm also debating whether I should confess that I never watched the last episode of Queen Charlotte," I blurted. "Lesya literally called in sick to work because she cried too hard, and I was appalled."

For a moment, Hugh was silent, and the tide of awkwardness rolled over us again. If I weren't so comfortable, I would have gotten up, made an excuse, and fled into the night to avoid drowning us both. But then Hugh's strong arm came around me pulling me against his chest, while his other hand sifted through my hair.

"Well, that's easy to fix," he murmured. He began talking, spinning out a story for me until my eyes shut and my thoughts began to float, a sense of peace washing over me for the first time in months.

Nothing is ever awkward with Hughwas the last conscious thought I had before I dropped into sleep.