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Not that Domenic had anything to worry about from Javier. Cute as Zach was sober, his red eyes and a slack mouth shining with sleep drool did not, at present, make him a great temptation.
Javier went to get some sheets from the linen closet to make up the couch in the den. He dropped Zach off in the kitchen, slouched into one of the tall chairs at the island. When he flicked on the lights, Zach groaned and dropped his head to the counter. Yeah, he’s not going anywhere.
Guiltily, Javier spread the sheets over the couch. A gentleman would let his guest have the bed. But he wasn’t a gentleman enough to ignore the implications of Zach’s scent on his pillows, the intimacy of him laying where Javier slept.
Making a note to finally set up some kind of guest bedroom situation, he went back for Zach. Walking into the kitchen, he felt the weight of a thousand repressed emotions like a fist punching his heart. The house felt right. With Zach slumped over the counter, snoring, the place felt like some crucial piece of furniture had just been delivered. Having Zach with him felt like home, a feeling Javier hadn’t realized he’d missed in the years since he’d left Portland.
And he’s not yours anymore.
Trying—and failing—to ignore the sudden, heartsick feeling that squeezed his chest, Javier reached out and gently shook Zach’s shoulder. When Zach lifted sleepy, drunken eyes to meet his, Javier swallowed against a pang of sadness. “Come on. Time for lights out.”
Zach leaned against him, every heavy, hard muscle in his body evident as Javier helped him to the den. Turning Zach at the last second, before he could collide with the couch and fall flat on his face, Javier intended to let him just drop, but Zach’s hands closed on the front of Javier’s shirt, pulling him down, too. Their mouths met in a frantic, wet slide before Javier ever had the option of pulling away. Zach tasted like beer. Sharp stabs of electric desire assailed Javier. It would have been so easy to give in, to sink down on that couch with him and justify it as something they both wanted.
It would have been easy then, but not when it was over. Javier pushed him firmly down and stepped back. Zach was drunk. He didn’t know what he was doing, and Javier was going to be damned if he contributed to widening the rift between them by taking advantage of a guy too drunk to consent.
Blinking in the semi-darkness, Zach slurred, “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Just sleep it off.”
Javier left the den like it was on fire. He went directly upstairs. He’d showered at the clubhouse, but he felt dirty enough to need another one.
What the hell had that been about? Yeah, Zach was drunk, and lonely, but didn’t it prove that he had some feelings for Javier still, that he’d kissed him? What did it mean if he did? He was in a relationship, and Javier was, well, if not exactly enjoying his single status, he wasn’t exactly dying to be in a relationship with an ex from a messy breakup.
The kiss hadn’t been about trust, or love, or any of the other things he wanted from a relationship. It had been borne of alcohol and the horniness inherent with a long-distance relationship. And Javier wasn’t going to be a stand-in for some Hollywood douchebag. Domenic. Ten to one, that wasn’t even the guy’s real name.
Zach deserved better. Javier had realized that and ended the relationship. What was this Domenic thinking, that he could just fuck around for fun while Zach waited patiently for him?
It was late, and Javier realized guiltily that he was reading far too much into the entire exchange. He knew nothing about Domenic, nothing about their relationship. He should stay out of it.
Or…
It was always a really good sign, in the most sarcastic sense of the phrase, when he started talking himself into crazy plans. Seeing Zach sitting there in the kitchen, looking like he belonged there, had opened up old, admittedly self-inflicted wounds. Zach wanted to be friends again? Fine. Javier could be a friend. He could be supportive and he could fake it when he wished Zach well with whoever this Domenic was. Because eventually, Domenic would be out of the picture. It didn’t matter when, and it didn’t matter how. Javier was willing to wait.
When the day came, Javier was going to get Zach back. And when he did, he was not going to make the mistake of letting him go again.
Chapter Three
Sunlight woke Zach. He blinked against it, but even his eyelids hurt. Sitting up, he swore off all alcohol as the room took a moment to catch up with his change in position. Alcohol led to bad choices.
At least he was on the couch, and he still had his clothes on. His face flushed hotly at the memory of how he’d acted the night before. None of it had been an accident. The ending up too drunk to find his way home part had been, but definitely not kissing Javier. He’d wanted to do that at the bar, but there wasn’t enough beer in the world to make him forget what a bad idea public displays of gay affection were in the Midwest and in their line of work.
