8. Jesse

Chapter 8

Jesse

The metallic clank of Anthony’s Zippo hitting the ground echoed around us. I looked at the lighter, then at him, and we locked eyes.

His were wide, his lips apart, surprise etched into every line of his face. My heart pounded, fear and panic and God knew what else surging through my veins with every second of silent stillness, like Anthony had just dropped a grenade and neither of us knew if it would detonate.

“You’re…” Anthony blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

I set my jaw and looked away from him, shifting my gaze back toward the pool. “I’m gay. Roger’s one of the only people who knows about it, and he…” Shaking my head, I made a sharp, aggravated gesture, then ran my hand through my hair and sighed. There it was. It was out there. Anthony knew, and there was no taking it back.

Anthony’s shoe creaked softly. A second later, his lighter scraped on the concrete. The sounds were almost whisper quiet, but I swore they echoed off the walls just like the lighter’s fall had.

I looked up as he slid the Zippo into his pocket. He didn’t meet my gaze. Didn’t say a word. He just reached for the chair opposite me and pulled it out from the table.

As he eased himself into it, he said, “You’re gay. Seriously?”

I nodded.

“That’s…” He coughed quietly. “Unexpected.”

It took everything I could not to snap back is that a fucking problem? Obviously it was a problem. I wouldn’t have kept it on the down low if it wasn’t. But the thinly veiled…something in his expression and tone both irritated me and left me uneasy. Anthony wasn’t the type to get rattled. It had occurred to me, in spite of Ranya’s insistence that her gaydar was pegging, that Anthony could be homophobic. Anyone could be, after all. But somehow I’d convinced myself he wouldn’t be. Wishful thinking or something, I supposed.

All I knew now was the tense, awkward silence hanging between us.

Eventually Anthony muffled another cough and reached for his cigarettes again, but didn’t take one out of the pack. “So what exactly is your, um, plan? Are you going to come out after the election?”

I rubbed my forehead with my thumb and forefinger. “I don’t know, to be perfectly honest.” I shook my head. “I just don’t know.”

Anthony blew out a breath but didn’t speak. He also didn’t light another cigarette. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. Resting his elbow on the table, he held a loose fist in front of his lips, and deep crevices formed between his eyebrows, his eyes locked on something in the darkness beyond the pool .

I shifted in my chair, not sure if I wanted to deck him for acting like this was such a big deal or beg him to keep it between us. “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t explain up front about Simone. And…um…” I cleared my throat. “Everything.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll… We can still…” He looked anywhere but right at me. “This won’t change how your campaign’s run. Just, I mean, it’s…” He finally looked at me. “Good to know. In case anyone finds out.”

“Right.” I moistened my lips, and this time I was the one to avoid his eyes. “So I guess I don’t have to ask if you’ll say anything. To anyone.”

“No, no, I definitely won’t. I would suggest you do the same.”

I glared at him. “You think I’m exactly broadcasting it?”

Anthony showed his palms. “No, of course not.” He shifted his gaze away. “But this could complicate things.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I muttered.

A long, heavy silence descended over us. The soft sound of my heel moving back and forth on the concrete punctuated the stillness. Anthony drummed his fingers on the table, the rhythmic, hollow percussion echoing across the veranda. And…I should have known what was coming:

Clink. Clink. Clink.

Over and over again, like he needed to mark time so neither of us could ignore each long, mostly silent second that marched past.

Then he snapped it shut so abruptly I nearly jumped to my feet. He set the lighter on the table. Picked it up again. Flipped it a few times.

Finally, he pocketed the lighter and cleared his throat. “Listen, um, we’ve got an early flight in the morning. I’d better get going.”

I gritted my teeth. Worried it’s contagious, are we? “Right. Yeah. Didn’t realize it was so late.”

Chairs scraped across cement. Anthony’s cigarette pack hissed across the table, and as he slipped it into his pocket, we went back into the house. The silence followed us through the kitchen, down the hall, and into the foyer.

There we stopped.

Our eyes met, but he quickly looked away. He started toward the door, reached for the doorknob, but hesitated. Pulled his hand back like some unseen electricity had arced across and zapped him. Rubbing the back of his neck, he chewed his lower lip.

I didn’t know what to make of Anthony being this uncertain. Or off guard. Anything that wasn’t 100 percent in control and even-keeled. Right now it was like he couldn’t even decide whether or not to open the damned door, and I just couldn’t process that.

I folded my arms loosely across my chest. “Is there something else?”

“Just thinking.” He took a breath and kept his gaze fixed on the hardwood floor between us. “This could, um, complicate things a little.”

“So you said. I’m sure the voters won’t be thrilled if they find out. ”

His head snapped up, and confusion furrowed his brow for a split second. Then he broke eye contact and shifted his weight. “Right. Right. The voters.”

I eyed him. “Yeah. The voters.”

The voters and the homophobic campaign manager.

Anthony lifted his gaze, and we locked eyes again. The silence was loaded like I’d never experienced before, and even though his intense eyes intimidated me, I couldn’t look away. The longer we held each other’s gazes, the faster my heart beat. Nerves tangled and twisted in my gut as I realized how dangerous this information could be in the wrong hands, how quickly my campaign could crumble, especially if my campaign manager walked away because he couldn’t or wouldn’t handle this. Shit, why did I tell—

My heart stopped.

Oh, God. That wasn’t homophobia in his eyes.

My mouth went dry. No fucking way.

I forced some air into my lungs, but before I could speak, Anthony took a step toward me.

Instinctively I stepped back. Another step apiece and my back was against the wall. I flattened my palms against the plaster, curling my fingers even though I knew full well there was nothing to grab on to.

“I should go,” he whispered, coming closer and shrinking the space between us. “This is the last thing…” He closed his eyes and exhaled. More to himself than me, he said, “Fuck…”

I gulped, pressing my shoulders into the wall just to keep myself from sinking to my knees. “Then what are we…?” God, I couldn’t even breathe. How was I supposed to ask what we were doing? Or if we should?

“I mean it, Jesse.” Anthony opened his eyes. “This could complicate things.”

I struggled to find the words, not to mention the breath to bring them to life, but finally managed, “I think it already has.”

“Yeah. It has.” He leaned in but hesitated. The air between us crackled with energy, with heat, and it was tinged with smoke, reminding me of Anthony’s lips around a cigarette. Reminding me how close I was to those lips. Electricity shot down my spine, and I was sure my heart really would stop if he didn’t kiss me. If he did kiss me. If he didn’t. If he fucking breathed .

“This is so…” Anthony touched his forehead to mine. “Fuck, this is such a bad idea.”

My God, he was shaking. Anthony Hunter, my rock-steady, impossible-to-faze campaign manager trembled as badly as I did, like if it weren’t for the wall holding me up, we’d both crumple to the floor.

“I know it’s a bad idea,” I whispered. “But I want—”

He kissed me.

And time stopped .

We were completely still, just touching, not even breathing. No one moved until a soft release of warm breath whispered across my cheek. My hand, moving of its own accord, found its way to Anthony’s shoulder, and he tilted his head just a little, encouraging my lips apart with his own.

One shaking hand appeared on the side of my neck. As his thumb traced the edge of my jaw, I shivered, and before I’d even recovered, Anthony deepened the kiss. He sucked in a breath through his nose and pressed his hips to mine. His cock was so, so close to mine now. I was painfully hard; I swore he was even harder, and my head spun so fast I was surprised I didn’t pass out.

I wrapped my arms around him because I needed to just stay upright, and because I damn well wanted to. He slid his other hand around my waist, and my back automatically arched off the wall to give him room. He broke the kiss and started to pull away but then swore under his breath and came back for more. We sank against each other, melting into a slow, deep kiss that just wouldn’t quit.

His chin was coarse against mine, and his mouth tasted like that nervous cigarette he’d smoked outside. With any other man, that would have put me off, but he and smoke were indivisibly intertwined, and the taste made his kiss so deliciously and unmistakably Anthony .

When he finally drew back, we stared at each other, struggling to catch our breath. My lips tingled, as did my skin from the scuff of his stubble, and smoke lingered on my tongue, but I still wondered if I’d imagined it all. If we were still at that impasse, that crossroads where we’d been lingering even while my mind conjured up this powerful fantasy. If we weren’t so tangled up in each other, if we weren’t just a few threads of clothing away from his erection being right against mine, I’d have been certain I’d just had a waking dream.

Anthony leaned in again, letting his lips brush mine, and for the longest time, we were still, hanging on that precipice between moving in and not. His fingers combed through my hair, and I shivered as his gentle, unsteady touch raised goose bumps along my spine.

He pressed against me, and just before another kiss consumed us, he whispered, “God, Jesse…”

My heart skipped, and it wasn’t just from his breathless desperation. It wasn’t the fact that since the day I met him, I’d wanted him so bad I couldn’t see straight. Or the fact that I hadn’t been kissed like this in my entire goddamned life.

Two words. Just two words.

“God, Jesse…”

I shivered again, moaning into his kiss and holding him tighter. Fuck, I wanted him. Right here, right now, right or wrong, I wanted him .

Anthony broke the kiss and met my eyes, turning my knees to water. The unspoken thought was unmistakable in his intense gaze: if I don’t go now, I’ll be here all night.

Which was, of course, exactly what I wanted.

Panting against my lips, he said, “We have to…we have to get moving tomorrow. Early.”

I licked my lips. “I know.”

“I should go. If I don’t, I’m…” Our eyes met again. Anthony cursed and pulled me closer to him. “Fuck, this is such…” Our lips brushed again. “This is such a bad idea.”

“Isn’t everything worth doing?”

Anthony gave a quiet, smoky laugh. “Good point.” He kissed me gently, pausing just long enough to make me wonder if he was about to give in completely. As he pulled back again, his shoulders sank. “I really should go.”

No. That’s the one thing you shouldn’t do right now. But I nodded anyway and loosened my grasp on his shirt. “Right. I’ll, um, see you at the airport, then?”

“Yeah. The airport.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he stepped back. “Bright and early.”

I groaned melodramatically. “Do we have to?”

He gave a quiet laugh. “Yes, we do, I’m afraid.” Then his humor faded. He looked at me but quickly dropped his gaze, and we separated a little more and adjusted our trousers. I desperately wanted to work up the nerve to kiss him again, but I could barely even look at him. Without physical contact, eye contact was suddenly almost impossible. And he was right: we had to end this now, or we’d get as carried away as I so, so badly wanted us to.

“Anyway.” He glanced at me; then his gaze darted toward the door. “I really should go. I’ll, um, see you tomorrow.”

“Right.” I nodded toward the door like he’d forgotten it was there. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah.” He managed a faint smile and met my eyes for a second. “You too.”

“Will do.”

With a couple of murmured good-byes, Anthony made a quick escape. I shut the door behind him, turned the deadbolt, and activated the security system, moving slowly as an excuse to linger in the foyer.

His footsteps faded down the walk. His car door opened, then closed. After a moment, the engine turned over, but it idled. Kept idling. I fantasized he was hesitating, that he was a breath away from fuck it, let’s do this .

I wanted to believe that, but this campaign was too important to both of us. We did have to leave early tomorrow. We really couldn’t do this. I guessed he was lighting a cigarette, and the phantom clink of his lighter made my mouth water .

I laughed softly to myself at the thought that that kiss had necessitated something like a postcoital cigarette, but even my own amusement couldn’t mask the knot coiling in my gut. I knew better. A smoke probably meant nerves. Stress. The longer that engine idled in my driveway, the more time he had to take a few drags and curse and regret everything.

A full three minutes after Anthony walked out my door, the engine rumbled into motion, and my heart sank deeper in my chest as the car took him down my driveway and out into the night. I imagined him gripping the wheel in one hand, holding the cigarette out the open window in the other, swearing and asking himself again and again what the hell we’d just done. Reality must have been settling on his shoulders like it settled onto mine. If we were going to take that kiss to another level, one that involved sweat and bedsheets, the “now or never” opportunity had passed when Anthony walked out the door.

At least then we could have blamed it on the heat of the moment. From here on out, anything we did was as good as premeditated, and he had to know as well as I did that we couldn’t . Not while he was managing my “look how straight and married I am” campaign for governor.

Still standing in my otherwise empty foyer, I rubbed my temples and swore under my breath. It was a mistake. We never should have let this happen, and we couldn’t take it back now. But damn it, of all the impulsive things I’d ever done, why did this one have to be a mistake? Why couldn’t something that felt this right be right?

I wanted this to be right. I needed it to be. And no matter how much I bargained with higher powers or rationalized in my mind, I knew it couldn’t be. Even if this was the one time, more than any other, I didn’t want to regret.

“God, Jesse…”

Thirty-two years old, and this was the first time I’d ever kissed a man who knew my name.