Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

Morgan

We finish eating, and then Dusty gets up to start working again. I would have no trouble continuing, but I think about the fact that he’s been working all day and hasn’t been home since this morning. He looks beat. He has to be exhausted.

“That’s good for tonight. We should get you home to get some rest. You’ve had a long day.”

Dusty stretches, arms in the air and his shirt lifting enough to show me a sliver of his golden-skinned belly. My eyes dart away before taking it in too much. Dusty has always been fucking gorgeous. I remember looking at him when we were young, before I had my sexuality figured out, and the tingle that always swam around in my gut…the way my skin would flush sometimes, and I didn’t understand why. The older I got, I realized I was attracted to my best friend in ways Rhett and other guys talked about being into girls. We were so damn close, almost inseparable, so how could he not have been part of my sexual awakening?

Eventually, we both came out, having told each other first, and I learned to tame my attraction to him because Dusty was my whole damn world and what if I was like my dad? What if I loved him as strongly as he loved Mom? Plus, we had the twins, of course, and I was too busy to worry about boyfriends and shit like that. I’d hooked up and nothing more, but I would never have risked that with Dusty.

Something about him now feels different to me, makes my gaze want to linger, to soak him in more, like I have to retrain myself to stifle my attraction to him. Wanting him would be dangerous. As much as I wanted to leave when I was younger, as much as I needed it, I don’t know if I could have left him if I hadn’t seen him kissing Rhett.

And I fear I would have resented him for it, which probably isn’t fair. It wouldn’t have been his fault, but sometimes those feelings don’t care about fair or not.

A shop towel hits me in the face. “Why are you staring at me?”

I shake it off. “Sorry. Spacing out, I guess.”

“Looks like I’m not the only one who needs to get some rest.”

We put everything away, Dusty turns on the shop’s alarm, and then we lock up and leave.

“You want to follow me to my place, or should I give you my address?” He heads toward what I assume is his Jeep Wrangler.

Shit. I don’t even know where Dusty lives. The thought hits me out of the blue. How did I let it get so bad that I don’t even know where Dusty lives?

The image of him with his lips on Rhett’s fills my head, makes my damn skin crawl.

“Why do you look pissed?”

“I’m not.” He cocks a brow, and I roll my eyes. “Pissed isn’t the right word. More like…sad. Let’s just go home, Dust. I’ll follow you.”

He watches me, wheels clearly spinning in his head, then nods. “Okay. Let’s go home.”

I climb into my rental and follow Dusty through downtown Birchbark, then down Waterfall Road, which leads out of town. About ten minutes later, he’s pulling down a driveway on a rural, secluded road, to a white house with a detached, three-car garage, which I have no doubt is where Dusty works on cars at home.

I don’t know why, but Rob flashes into my head. He would hate a place like this and would have chosen a hotel over staying here with Dusty, but damn, does it look perfect to me. And I know it’s perfect for Dust.

I park beside him and get out. It’s about ten. The sun only went down about half an hour ago, so it’s not pitch-black out yet. My feet move in a circle as I take in Dusty’s property, the army of trees around us, the sugar maples he always smells like.

“This is yours?” I ask.

“That’s what they say, but I’m not sure the bank would agree.” Dusty chuckles. “I know it’s probably not what you’re used to, but it’s perfect for me. This is home. It’ll always be home.”

Yeah, I know that, but… “Do you think I’ve changed so much that I wouldn’t love a place like this over where my dad lives?” The sting in my chest leaves no denying how that thought makes me feel.

“I don’t know, man. I don’t think so, but you never know. I’m not trying to be a dick. We’re just navigating a tough situation here.”

I nod because he’s right. I can’t deny that. “You know me, Dust. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed or where our lives have taken us, you know me better than anyone, better than I know myself. The only reason I’m halfway sane is because I had you.” I’ve never been the type to get embarrassed, and for the first time, I feel heat travel up my face. I look away, toward the trees, unable to make eye contact.

Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Wait… Who said you’re halfway sane? I give you a quarter at best, and that’s pushing it.”

His playfulness breaks the tension, which I’m sure was Dusty’s intention. “I can’t believe how mean you are now.”

“I can get meaner if you want.” Dusty winks. “Grab your stuff. Let’s go in.”

I take my bag out of the back seat and follow Dusty up the porch stairs. He unlocks the door, then steps aside for me to go in.

We enter through the living room. It’s a one-story house, open concept, with the kitchen behind this main area. I can see a bunch of windows along the back, overlooking the trees. His place is decorated rustic, with browns and blacks and lots of wood. My gaze snags on the end tables flanking the couch, the dark-wood tops and the… “Are those car parts making up the base of your table?”

He grins. “Yep. Recycled engine parts, to be exact.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Jesus, that’s so you.” But it’s great. You look at his home and know so much about the man he is—easy, laid-back, loves cars and nature and comfort.

“I think it’s pretty cool.”

“I do too,” I reply as he heads toward the kitchen.

“You want a drink or anything?”

“Just some water is good.”

Dusty fills us each a glass, then hands one to me. “I’ll show you to your room.”

A pang lands in my chest, though I don’t know why. I do my best to ignore it as I follow Dusty down the hallway. “Here’s the bathroom.” He points to the right. “Spare bedroom is right here.” He shows me another door, just down some on the left. “I’m at the other end of the house if you need anything. I’m gonna shower. Feel free to do the same or grab something to eat if you want.”

I nod, that pang growing and growing like it’s metastasizing inside me.

“You’re welcome to stay when I go to work in the morning. Anything you need.”

I nod again, my voice feeling like it doesn’t work anymore. Dusty frowns, but then turns and heads toward the other side of the house. I don’t move until I hear a door close softly.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

In the spare room there’s a queen bed, dresser, and nightstands in what looks like dark oak. I toss my bag on the bed and set the glass down. I can’t put my finger on why I feel so on edge, why the room feels lonely in a way it shouldn’t. My emotions have been all over the place since coming back here, so I guess this is just par for the course.

Trying to ignore the thoughts in my head, I grab a pair of boxer briefs and sweats from my bag and head into the bathroom. Towels and washcloths are stacked on shelves along the wall, so I grab one of each, turn the water on, strip, and get in.

The warm water feels good against my skin. Dipping my head beneath the spray, I let it run down my body, close my eyes…and damned if that little sliver of skin doesn’t fill my thoughts.

“Christ.” Blood rushes to my groin, heat spreading there as my dick swells and lengthens. There has to be some kind of rule against jerking off while thinking about your best friend’s abs, while in his shower. But again, I’ve been feeling all sorts of things since coming back to Birchbark, all of it filling me with so much damn tension that I feel like if I don’t release some of the pressure, I’m going to explode.

When was the last time I even had sex? Rob and I hadn’t for about a month if I remember correctly. When we hook up with others, it’s usually the two of us together and we bring in a third, but we have rules in place that we can play alone too. I didn’t do that except for a couple of times in the beginning, but I do enjoy when we play with others. Hell, it’s probably been at least six months since that happened.

I squirt some conditioner into my hand, lean my left arm on the shower wall, forehead resting on it, while I use my other to stroke myself. Tendrils of pleasure begin to twist around in my stomach.

Fuck yes. I need this. Really fucking need it.

I tighten my grip, tug at my shaft while opening that door inside my head that I used to try and forget was there. Dusty’s stomach is the first picture in my head, then his smile and the way his shirt stretches tightly over his muscular pecs. How his tongue slipped out of his mouth earlier, to lick some pizza sauce there, and the way it had made me tremble.

Tingles start at the base of my spine. I stand up straighter, use my other hand to play with my balls. I’m throbbing—not just my dick or my nuts, but my whole damn body—pounding with want and need. The muscles in my thighs begin to tremble, visions of Dusty’s strong hands fill my mind…the calluses on his palms, the veins that run along the top and into his forearms when he flexes…

My hand moves faster up and down my shaft, orgasm right there, teasing me, luring me in, taunting me with the pleasure I know will feel good but will not be nearly enough.

I shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t want him, but it’s just sex…hell, even more than that, this is just fantasy. I’ve jerked off to Dusty before, and that didn’t mean anything.

“Dusty…” I let his name fall from my lips, hand running over the head of my dick before stroking toward the root again. “Dusty…” His name slips out a second time, right before color explodes behind my eyelids, balls draw up, pleasure suffusing my body as I paint my best friend’s shower wall with my load.

I drop my forehead against the tile. “Fuck.”

My dick is definitely happier, and I feel more relaxed in some ways, even if it’s just a very little amount of pressure that I released.

But this is trouble. This is what made me ask him to go with me before…and what broke my heart when he said no. It’s what would have made me want to stay if Dusty hadn’t made the choice for me by kissing Rhett.

Get your head together, I tell myself, then clean my jizz off the shower and wash myself. A few minutes later, I’m in bed, in Dusty’s spare room, staring at the ceiling and feeling even lonelier than I had when I first arrived.