Page 20 of Only Time Will Tell

My lips outlined his collar bone, licking each nip my teeth left behind while I stroked him. “Do you like this, baby?” I whispered, nibbling his earlobe.

“God, yes.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

Alex’s hips synced up with the strokes. I was hard as fuck and couldn’t take much more and desperately chased my own release. Being this close, this intimate with Alex, drove my desire for him over the edge. He shivered when it and I rubbed harder, faster against him as we both came to a climactic finish.

“Fuck, Alex, I missed you so much,” I mumbled against his chest.

“Charlie.” When I glanced up, the expression on his face said he was ready to bolt.

“Alex, it’s okay.” I patted his chest, trying best to calm him.

“No. No, it’s not okay for men to touch men that way. Don’t you get it? Why’d you do that?” His anger escalated with every word.

“Well, I don’t remember you pushing me away or telling me to stop.” I stepped back. Anger wasn’t the right answer, especially since I was the only one who really knew what was going on. But the combination of this whole ordeal and lack of sleep was catching up to me. All I wanted to do was get Alex and myself back home. To our real home. Back to the life we had.

The watch. That was it. As I reached into my pants pocket to grab it at the same time Alex made a break for it. I tried to catch up with him, but he’d disappeared.

Well, fuck.

Chapter Seven

Alex

I ran.

Like the coward that I was I ran as fast as I could and didn’t stop until I was safely shut inside my bedroom. I wanted to vomit. I couldn’t believe what had just happened, and I’d allowed it. Men had been jailed for less, yet I did nothing to stop it.

But the real question was, why?

The reality of the crime hit and landed like a punch to the gut. My anxiety shot through the roof and I doubled over, fully prepared to vomit. Two men were not allowed to be together, let alone touch each other in such intimate ways. But it had taken every bit of strength I had to refrain from kissing him. The desire was overwhelming, all I could do was run and put as much space between Charlie and me as I could.

Now, alone in my room, I couldn’t stop thinking about him—the way he knew how to stroke me, how his warm breath felt ghosting across my flesh. How my nipples reacted, painfully hardening with his every touch.

And how I wanted to do it again…

Dealing with my father after not having slept wouldn’t make for a great day. Seeing his face right as I stepped into the kitchen only made it worse. The groan that escaped couldn’t be helped.

“Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed,” he said, pointing out the obvious.

Mom kissed the top of my head after I sat. “Good morning, Alex.”

“Don’t you have to meet Charlotte at the bakery today? The wedding’s only a week away, son,” my father stated, as though it were something to be happy about.

Why did he feel the need to bring that up? The last thing I wanted to do was see Charlotte. As the wedding day neared, my desperation intensified the growing need to leave and never come back. Between that and Charlie, I was ready to hop the next train out. No matter what, I wasn’t marrying her next Saturday.

“Meet me at the store after you’re done with the baker. I’ll never understand why women can’t handle wedding details on their own. It’s not a man’s place,” my father said, shaking his head in disgust as he left.

The walk through town did nothing to clear my mind. Why couldn’t I remember anything? No recollection of dating Charlotte let alone asking for her hand. For all I know, that was decided for us and there was no formal asking. Nothing of my childhood, though given the ass of a father I had, that may be my brain blocking that out. But not remembering school or friends? None of this added up.

“There you are,” she screeched as she grabbed my sleeve. “I thought you were going to be late again.”

“Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?” This was not a great time to have a bad attitude, but I was beyond sick of this woman. I didn’t care what kind of cake she chose, I knew I wouldn’t be tasting any of it because there was no way in hell I was showing up to our wedding.

Thomas the baker greeted us as we stepped inside. “Good morning, you must be Alexander and Charlotte. Congratulations on your upcoming marriage.”

“Please, call me Alex,” I told him as we shook hands. Charlotte glared at me and I realized that was the first time I’d ever told anyone to call me Alex.

He turned to Charlotte, gently taking her hand in his. “Wonderful to meet you both.”