Over and Back, page 14
They turned the corner to the street with the hotel. The sun had gone down, and twilight quickly descended around them. Ahead, a figure leaned against the wall, maybe a hundred feet or so in front of them.
Bull stiffened, and Hank felt his guard rise. “I want both of you to walk more slowly. Fall behind me a few feet and stay there.” It was hard to see much about this person except the occasional glow of a cigarette in the growing darkness.
He and Grant fell behind Bull, who strode down the street as though he owned it. Once they were about twenty feet from the man, the guy stubbed out the cigarette, crossed the road, and went in one of the doors. Hank released the breath he was holding, and Bull continued on to the hotel, going right inside the entrance hall. He used his key to open the outer door, and Hank made sure it closed behind them.
“Good night, guys,” Zach said as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.
“Okay. See you in the morning.” They all went upstairs, and Grant finally seemed to breathe once their door closed behind them.
Chapter Seven—Trouble with Heights
“THAT WAS weird,” Grant said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He really tried to put it out of his mind. There were so many more important things to think about, like the way Hank looked in his tight shirt that hugged all those muscles.
“It was Bull being cautious, that’s all,” Hank soothed. “It was just a guy out for a smoke.” He kicked off his shoes. “Dinner was really good.”
Grant smiled, unable to help it. “Nice change of subject.” Not that he wanted to dwell on the nonincident either. But he was a little embarrassed about all the things he’d told Hank. Grant had really opened up to him, and now he wondered if he’d run his mouth too much.
Hank moved through the room, putting things away and basically puttering, keeping his attention everywhere but on Grant. Grant sighed and stood to go into the bathroom. It was still pretty early, but he figured he might as well take a shower, brush his teeth, and get ready for bed.
He stripped down and stepped into the shower, getting the water good and hot. He soaped up his hands and washed himself, the temptation to think of his own hands as Hank’s nearly overwhelming, but there was no need to torture himself. He’d thought that maybe after their dinner and the way they’d talked, things were going to progress further, but with Hank’s aloofness since they returned, maybe not. Still, there was no use teasing with fantasies. With a sigh, he cleaned up quickly and washed his hair.
After a final rinse, he turned off the water and stepped out of the small shower stall, dried off, and brushed his teeth. It was then he realized that in his haste he hadn’t grabbed any night clothes, so Grant wrapped the towel around his waist and came out of the bathroom.
Hank lay on top of the covers on the bed, propped up by the pillows. He sat up as Grant came in the room, eyes widening and a smile curling on his lips. Heat built instantly in his eyes. Grant felt his skin flush, and he berated himself for blushing like a teenager. He had a tendency to do that all the damn time, and he hated it. He turned away to hide his embarrassment.
The bed shook, and Grant felt Hank’s heat behind him. “Don’t look away,” he whispered. “Why do you do that?”
Grant swallowed hard and slowly turned back. “What?”
“You turn away when you blush.” Hank lightly touched his shoulder with the tips of his fingers, sliding them toward the base of his neck. Grant quivered at the contact and fought the urge to pull away as embarrassment rose even higher. “I think it’s sexy.”
“Blushing like an idiot is sexy?” Grant asked, rolling his eyes.
“No. You are sexy. Besides, your blush tells me something about how you feel.” Hank gently coaxed Grant to turn around. His fingers slipped downward, blazing a path over his chest and around a nipple. Grant wanted to bring his arms together to hide himself. “Why does it bother you?”
“The kids in school used to play games to see how fast they could make me blush. It worked every time too, and then they’d laugh at me.”
“I’m not laughing,” Hank said, his voice deepening to a rumble that dropped right to the base of Grant’s balls. Still, he turned his back to Hank again, this time to hide his reaction to Hank’s radiating heat. “I mean it.” Hot, steaming hands slid above Grant’s waist and around his belly, sliding over his skin. Grant closed his eyes, leaning back into the touch, wondering for a second if this was just his imagination. Hank kissed his shoulder, and Grant stood still, realizing this was real but afraid to move in case he broke the spell. “Turn around for me. Please.”
He did, because Hank had asked him, not told him. Grant turned because he wanted to, and Hank captured his lips almost as soon as he was able. Grant wound his arms around Hank’s neck, needing support in case his knees gave out from the volcanic intensity that nearly overwhelmed him.
Hank’s hands slowly ran down Grant’s back, the terry cloth around his waist too confining and scratchy, but he couldn’t do anything about it as Hank pinned them together and his hands drew him ever nearer. His chest pressed to Hank’s, the softness of his shirt sliding across his nipples, teasing them, making him gasp and want more, even as Hank’s lips tugged on his. Hank’s tongue slid into his mouth, tasting him and adding his own soft moan. Then his gentle tug at Grant’s waist unknotted the towel, and it fell to the floor.
Grant groaned as Hank slid his hands down his lower back and over his butt, pressing them even closer. Grant freed his hands and tugged at the hem of Hank’s shirt, pulling it upward. Hank backed away just long enough for Grant to get it over his head and off his arms before embracing him once again, taking possession of his lips in a searing kiss that stripped away thoughts of anything but the intensely strong yet gentle man holding him.
Hank got to his feet, drawing Grant to the bed. To Grant’s surprise, Hank lifted him and gently placed him on the mattress.
“I’m not a damsel you just rescued,” Grant chided.
“I know that. But you’re precious. I’ve watched you for months, and now you’re finally going to be mine.” Hank slipped off the pants he’d worn to dinner, standing in only a pair of tented black boxer briefs that left very little to the imagination. Then they too joined the clothes on the floor, and Hank prowled onto the bed.
He was even more gorgeous than Grant ever imagined. “There’s no tan line,” Grant whispered.
“Yeah. I like to lie out at home, and the one thing my tiny apartment has is a very private, small balcony.” He winked, sending a thrill through Grant as Hank straddled him. “Maybe once we get home, I can show it to you sometime.”
Grant swallowed. “I think I’d like that.” He drew Hank downward until their lips met again, this time heat and excitement blooming between them, simmering attraction blossoming to a full boil within seconds.
“Well, I think you’re going to like this,” Hank whispered against his lip before rolling them on the bed. Suddenly Grant lay on top of Hank, looking down into the deepest, most beautiful, hot dark-chocolate eyes he’d ever seen. Hank wrapped his arms around him, stroking his back before drawing him closer, but didn’t kiss him. Grant frowned in confusion.
“What’s going on?”
“You said that Timothy was always in charge. Well, tonight, you are.” Hank smiled and stroked up and down his back as though he was a cat. Hell, Grant wished he could purr, he was so damned happy.
“How about if no one is in charge?” Grant offered. “It isn’t like I don’t want your strength and care—they turn me on. But it’s the being told what to do that I didn’t like.”
Hank hugged him tighter. “Then how about you tell me what you do like.” He kissed the base of his ear. “What is it that really turns you on? Or do you want me to go on an expedition to learn all about you on my own?”
“Uh-huh,” Grant managed to croak out.
“Okay.” Hank grinned and rolled them back. “Let’s see about here.” He lightly sucked the base of Grant’s neck, which didn’t do much for him. Oh, it was nice, but it didn’t send him overboard. “I see. Well, how about right here?” Hank swirled his tongue around a nipple, teasing him, and Grant nodded. “Yeah?”
He whimpered when Hank continued his travels, licking and sucking around his belly button and then over to the top of his hip, worrying a spot that made his dick throb. Hank teased right there as Grant moaned and tried to catch his breath. It seemed so strange to be sensitive at that spot, but Hank zeroed in on it and didn’t let it go until Grant gasped for breath. Then and only then did he back away, eyes gleaming, before kissing Grant within an inch of his life.
Grant had never felt so alive. After leaving Timothy, he had been worried that giving up control to someone else was the only way he’d be able to feel this desire. He was wrong, so very wrong.
“Are you stopping?” Grant panted when Hank’s hands slipped away.
“Not on your life,” Hank half growled, and parted Grant’s legs, kneeling between them before starting on his knees, working his way up his inner thighs, leaving a trail of wet heat that left Grant clutching the bedding in his fists, gasping for air, and hoping to hell Hank never stopped.
“Hank!” Grant groaned as Hank nuzzled his balls, then ran his tongue up his shaft and sucked him between his lips. Grant’s head instantly throbbed, feeling like it was going to explode. He was already on edge from anticipatory enticement and wasn’t sure how much more he was going to be able to take. Just as he was coming to the edge, Hank backed away, letting him slip from his mouth. Grant breathed deeply, shaking as Hank held him tightly, their kiss stripping away the last of Grant’s inhibitions.
Grant surged forward, something he would never have done with Timothy, pushing Hank until he lay on his back. Then he straddled Hank’s hips and ran his hands over his chest, luxuriating in the hard muscle under smooth skin.
“What is it you want, Grant?” Hank asked.
“I don’t know,” Grant whispered. “It’s been a long time since I had sex without someone else telling me what to do.” He felt like an idiot.
Hank reached up to run his fingers over Grant’s chest. “You look wonderful above me.” Grant shifted his hips and leaned back, sliding his butt along Hank’s length. Hank’s mouth hung open and his eyes rolled. Grant was both amazed and thrilled that he could elicit that kind of reaction from the bigger, stronger man. He grasped Grant’s butt, pressing up against him. Grant rolled his pelvis, and Hank gasped, breath becoming ragged. “You’re incredible, you know that?”
“I am?” Grant moaned as Hank gripped his cock, stroking along with his slow rocking, sending Grant’s desire higher and higher until he was barely able to control it. His legs trembled and his lungs fought to pull in enough air. He quivered and shook, holding on to the last thread of control in sweet desperation as Hank gripped him tighter, adding more friction until Grant was millimeters from losing it. Pressure built deep in his chest, growing and blooming until it diverged, traveling to his head and groin, slamming into him with so much force that he lost all control and barreled like a runaway train over the precipice of passion, flying through the air so high and fast that he could only hold still and let it happen. His sweet release was a blessing because he couldn’t hold it any longer, and a curse because it was over way too damned soon.
Hank drew him forward, holding him tightly as Grant let the afterglow wash over him. “You were so hot,” Hank whispered into his ear. “Watching you react, the way you threw yourself completely into your pleasure and mine—I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“You were the hot one,” Grant argued, then smiled. “Are we hot for each other?”
“That’s what it sounds like.” Hank held him a little bit tighter. “I think that’s what I’ve dreamed of.”
Grant closed his eyes. He knew he’d dreamed of that for a very long time.
FLORENCE WAS amazing, that was all there was to it. For the next two days, they toured the city, visiting some of the world’s greatest works of art, walking streets and bridges that had been around for centuries. And the nights were just as exciting, with Hank bringing him to the heights of passion before they went to sleep and sometimes in the morning. Heck, the morning they were supposed to leave, Hank had awakened him with a blowjob that left his knees weak. Grant could have sworn the guys all knew what he and Hank had been up to just from the goofy look he knew he had on his face, but he didn’t really care.
“Do we need to check out right away?” Jeremy asked at breakfast in the cozy little dining room where they took up half the table space.
“No. The train is at one. So we’re going to eat, climb the dome, and then check out and head to the station. We should have plenty of time.”
The hotel staff brought plates of meat and cheese, rolls, as well as milk for cereal. It was a basic meal, but very good, and everything was fresh. They gave their orders for coffee, and Grant ate his roll with cheese and salami on it before having a bowl of cereal. He’d already learned that as active as they were, he definitely needed to eat.
Grant put his hand over his mouth to stifle a yawn.
“Not sleeping well?” Tristan asked, then snickered. “Or is Hank keeping you up extra late?” He turned away, and Harry scowled at him.
“Be nice,” Harry scolded.
“Yeah. We didn’t pick on you when you and Harry were in that loopy-in-love stage. Besides, you’re just pissed because you owe me twenty bucks.” Zach held his hand out, wriggling his fingers. “And here, bucks are euros.”
Tristan grumbled and slapped over the bill.
“What’s this?” Hank growled. “You were betting?”
“Yeah.” Tristan turned back to his breakfast.
Zach grinned. “I just knew the two of you were perfect together way back before we left. Tristan told me that I was full of crap and that you’d be at each other’s throats. I bet him, and he lost.” Zach shook his head. “You should never bet against luuurve, you cynic.” Zach flashed Tristan a look, and Tristan stuck his tongue out. Clearly they were playing back and forth. Zach leaned closer. “Anyone could see that you two had been circling each other for weeks. The electricity between you was scorching. A couple of times I’m surprised you didn’t short out the lights at the club.”
“Sweetheart, leave them alone. It’s none of your business what goes on between them.” Bull nudged Zach, and he handed Tristan back the money. “It was pretty bad of you two to bet on them like that.” He didn’t say anything else, but scowled at the two men. Both Zach and Tristan had the decency to look ashamed. And at least Grant didn’t blush too badly.
“We need to get going or we’ll be late for our reservation,” Hank said. He and Grant had their cards and money belts. The others had to go back to their rooms, and they met in the sitting room before leaving to walk to the Duomo. The line outside the side door wasn’t too long.
“It looks like we have about fifteen minutes.”
Their tickets to climb were timed, and at nine thirty, the attendant called for them to start. He took their tickets and escorted them to a circular staircase, the first of more than four hundred steps. The gray stone stairs were fully enclosed, with occasional open windows that let in fresh air and allowed for glimpses outside as they climbed.
“You doing okay?” Grant asked Hank just ahead of him.
“Yup. This is so exciting.” He hurried ahead, and Grant caught up to him at the first landing, where they traveled deeper into the church to another circular staircase that took them higher. When they came out inside at the base of the dome, they walked the plexiglass-enclosed catwalk that skirted around. Hank drew close. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he whispered, and Grant took his hand. “I was fine when we were inside, but this is frightening as hell.”
“Look up into the dome. The paintings are amazing. Don’t look back down.” Grant guided Hank along the narrow walkway to the next set of stairs leading up to the dome itself.
“I’m okay,” Hank said softly, and Grant stayed behind him as they climbed between the inner and outer domes. In places, the herringbone brickwork, hundreds of years old, told the story of how the dome was built.
“How much farther?” Hank asked as they continued along narrow passageways. They climbed up the last set of stairs, along the curve of the dome, and Grant passed through a trapdoor to step onto the cupola balcony, seemingly on top of the city.
“I don’t like heights,” Hank whispered from behind him. “Don’t tell the others.” He stayed close to the center while Grant took pictures from all around, getting views of the entire city.
“Isn’t this amazing?” Harry asked as he and Bull stood at the protective barrier to get a better view.
“It is.” It was like having Florence of old all laid out at his feet—the sights, old streets, period buildings, even the Arno River, all stretching out to the horizon. Grant took Hank’s hand, guiding him around the cupola so he didn’t miss anything, letting him stay toward the center. “Let me take some pictures of you up here, and maybe one of the guys can get pictures of the two of us. Then we can go down.”
“I’m okay,” Hank told him breathily, and stood with his back to the fence, smiling long enough for Grant to snap the picture. Hank stepped back, and Grant reluctantly left him there and went to explore the rest of the cupola.
“Hi, little one.”
Grant turned to face Jarrod, the sweet yet menacing smile Jarrod wore turning his stomach. “Hi, dickface,” he retorted. He was getting tired of this guy showing up everywhere he went. He had just gotten to the point where his worry subsided, and then the jerkface showed up again.
