They sat there for a long time, the only sound in the room the shuddering rhythm of Blake’s breathing.
Slowly, the tears began to subside. Blake became aware of the physical reality of the situation. He was pressed against a beautiful, athletic young man. He could smell the warm, cedar-and-citrus scent of Nico’s cologne, faint but unmistakable. He could feel the hard muscle of Nico’s chest beneath his cheek.
He hadn’t had sex since the morning he left the flat. He hadn’t even thought about it.
But now, surrounded by the dark and the quiet, feeling the gentle, rhythmic stroke of Nico’s hand in his hair, arousal pulled through him, sharp and unwanted. He felt his cock hardening against the fabric of his jeans.
I should just do it,Blake thought, a dark, bitter voice whispering in his mind.I should sleep with him. Andre slept with two people. Why shouldn’t I have this? Maybe it would make the pain stop. Maybe it would make me feel alive again.
Nico shifted slightly, his hand sliding down from Blake’s hair to rest on the back of his neck. His thumb brushed against Blake’s skin, a deliberate, highly charged caress.
Blake gently pushed himself back, creating a few inches of space between them.
He looked at Nico. The young man was incredibly handsome in the dim light, his dark eyes heavy with an unmistakable invitation. Nico looked down at Blake’s lips, then back up to his eyes, and leaned in.
He was going to kiss him.
For a fraction of a second, Blake wanted to let him. He wanted to close his eyes and lose himself in the simple, uncomplicated heat of someone else’s body.
But as Nico’s lips brushed against his, Blake turned his head. The kiss landed softly on his cheek.
Nico froze, pulling back slightly, a look of confusion and immediate regret crossing his face.
“I am sorry. I thought…”
“No, don’t apologize,” Blake said quickly, his voice wrecked. He reached out and gently squeezed Nico’s arm. “You are very handsome, Nico. You’re incredibly desirable. And I… I am very weak right now.”
“But you do not want this,” Nico said quietly.
“I can’t,” Blake said, the truth of it settling heavily in his chest. “I love him. Even after everything, I still love him. And if there is any chance — anychance at all — that we are going to survive this, I have to be loyal to him. I can’t do to him what he did to me.”
Nico looked at him for a long moment, his dark eyes softening with a profound, genuine respect. He didn’t look rejected; he looked moved.
Nico reached out, took Blake’s hand, and pressed a gentle, formal kiss to his knuckles. “He is a very lucky man,” Nico whispered. “To have a love like yours.”
Nico stood up, smoothed the front of his vest, and walked quietly out of the room, leaving Blake alone in the dark.
Blake leaned his head back against the sofa, closing his eyes. He was still hard, his body aching with unfulfilled tension, but his heart felt strangely calm. He had faced the temptation, the easy escape, and he had chosen Andre.
Even in the wreckage, he was still choosing him.
When he arrived at Queen’s Club the following morning, there were three photographers waiting by the entrance.
Blake ignored them, pulling his cap lower over his eyes, and walked quickly through the gates. Doug was waiting for him on Court 1, a basket of balls at his feet.
“You saw the news,” Doug said, not looking up as Blake dropped his bag on the bench.
“I saw it.”
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
Blake pulled his racket out of the bag, his movements sharp and aggressive. “No.”
Doug sighed, picking up a ball and bouncing it on his racket strings. “Fine. But you can’t hide in that hotel forever, Blake. Eventually, you’re going to have to face him.”
“I’m here to play tennis, Doug,” Blake said, walking to the baseline.
“Serve the ball.”
