The Inside Edge, page 9
The moment Nate gave himself over to the pleasure and stopped bracing himself against it, Aubrey coaxed his thighs apart and went in with two fingers, smooth as anything, like he knew Nate’s body could take what it craved.
Nate submitted to thirty seconds of necessary stretching only because he’d been up close with Aubrey’s dick and he had to sit still on a plane tomorrow, but before he could even nudge Aubrey to move on with it, he was curling his fingers up instead, making Nate swear and fist the sheets.
“You should,” Nate began, but Aubrey was already withdrawing his fingers and making an impatient motion for Nate to turn over.
“I’m gonna,” he promised, arranging Nate’s hips.
Nate almost laughed. They’d spent four weeks sniping at each other, and all it took to get them agreeing on everything was—
“Now would be good,” Nate prompted, but the last word came out strangled because Aubrey slid in deep, one smooth thrust that Nate felt in his tonsils.
Okay, yes. Hookup sex. That was a thing.
“Jesus Christ,” said Aubrey, sounding exactly like Nate felt. “Your ass is criminally undersexed.”
This time Nate did laugh, and Aubrey made a sound like he was dying and dug his fingers hard into Nate’s hips to hold him still. “What’re you gonna do?” he asked, biting down on a moan as Aubrey pulled out. “Arrest—fuck—arrest it?”
“Nnnnno.” Aubrey grunted in apparent dissatisfaction and then leaned over his back and shoved Nate’s shoulders toward the mattress. Nate’s breath hitched as Aubrey nailed the angle to hit his prostate just right. “I think… it can be… rehabilitated.”
Nate could only nod in agreement.
Together they set a punishing rhythm. Nate spared half a thought for the room’s neighbors, but then Aubrey laced their fingers together and guided Nate’s hand to his own cock, and that killed any misguided civic-mindedness.
Aubrey didn’t ask if he was okay or draw it out or attempt anything fancy. He seemed happy to fuck Nate until his teeth rattled, chasing the high of orgasm until a particularly brutal thrust sent Nate cursing over the edge, coming over his hand in spasms that felt like they were wringing his whole body dry. Aubrey fucked in another handful of times, and then his hips stuttered as his fingers clenched bruisingly tight on Nate’s skin.
The world took several moments to right itself. Nate realized he’d collapsed into the wet spot and honestly couldn’t give a fuck. Aubrey pulled out and flopped beside him on the bed, gasping up at the ceiling.
Nate’s freshly Zamboni’d brain was blissfully, completely silent.
“So filthy, no-strings-attached sex, huh?” he said after a moment, half muffled by the pillow. With great effort, he turned his head. “Who knew.”
Aubrey held up a finger without otherwise moving. “Don’t forget the ‘hottest guy you can find’ part.”
Nate’s mouth made a noise that might have been agreement if it could’ve found a brain cell capable of conveying it.
After a moment Aubrey groaned, pulled off the condom, and snagged another of the washcloths from the bed. Nate grabbed one too, wondering if he couldn’t ameliorate some of the damage. He felt bad for the hotel cleaning staff.
“I think traditionally this is the part where I kick you out.” Nate fought the urge to giggle into the pillow, but a snicker sneaked out. “But considering the conditions, I’m okay with breaking protocol for one night.”
“And my mom said my philandering would never get me anywhere.” Aubrey flung a cloth toward the washroom.
“I reserve the right to kick you out of bed for snoring, though.” With effort, Nate dragged himself into the bathroom. Just a quick shower, and then he could crash. But when he returned, suddenly self-conscious enough that he’d put on the track pants he brought for working out, Aubrey was sitting up in bed watching Sports Night with a room service tray.
“I worked up an appetite,” he said sheepishly. “My treat. Got you the salmon, but if you’d rather the tenderloin, I’ll trade.”
Nate’s stomach growled on cue. Apparently a few dates and fries hadn’t been enough for him either. “Salmon sounds great.”
It was odd to eat dinner in bed next to a guy who’d just fucked his brains out… at first. It felt like a date gone backward. Then Aubrey said something stupid about the show and that feeling disappeared—and Nate realized that the tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders for God knew how long had left too.
Maybe there was something to this hookup thing after all.
Chapter Eight
AUBREY WASN’T the last person on the plane—the gate agent was still sorting out the stand-bys when he dashed down the jetway—but most everyone was seated by the time he slid into his aisle seat, almost directly across from Nate.
Nate, who’d sneaked out of the room that morning while Aubrey showered.
Aubrey had spent the intervening time trying to decide what he’d say to Nate when he saw him—something flirty and witty, hopefully—and also what the hell he was going to do about sleeping with a coworker who, it turned out, was his perfect match in every way and definitely wasn’t looking for a relationship.
He didn’t get the chance to say boo to Nate, though, because while Aubrey was stowing his bag under the seat in front of him, Kelly appeared at Nate’s side.
“Check this out.” Kelly leaned over to show Nate something on her phone. “Do you remember him from the wedding? I told him about you.”
Aubrey caught himself before he leaned forward like a creeper, but he adjusted his toque so he could overhear more easily.
“He’s a doctor,” Kelly wheedled. “And a cutie. Single. Nice guy. Looking for someone nice, stable. Sound like anyone you know? Anyway, maybe have coffee with him?”
“Um.”
Aubrey held his breath, waiting for Nate’s response.
“He sounds great,” Nate said.
Something in Aubrey’s gut lurched. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known this was coming ever since he realized Nate was actually single. Nate was hot and kind and had a good job. He was never going to stay single for long. Even if he did, he’d just expressed his interest in pickup culture—an interest Aubrey had very much used to his advantage last night.
He had no right to feel disappointed, let alone… whatever else he was feeling that he didn’t want to name… because Nate was looking to expand his repertoire beyond just Aubrey.
“I’ll let him know,” Kelly said brightly. Then she ruffled Nate’s hair. “Oh, hi, Aubrey,” she added as she headed back to her seat. The gesture made Aubrey feel like an afterthought. Definitely one for the notebook.
At least he knew where he stood with Nate. Clearly he wasn’t relationship material. He’d been foolish to even entertain the idea.
He wondered if Nate would come sniffing around for another go if Dr. Nice Guy had more in the bank than in the tank.
If he did, Aubrey would—he would—
Aubrey wanted to believe that he’d tell Nate where to stick it, but if he were being honest with himself, the problem was Aubrey knew exactly where he wanted to stick it, and if Nate gave him another opening, Aubrey would take it.
At least he had something new to work on in therapy.
NATE GRIMACED at the grinning model on the cover of the in-flight magazine as if it were her fault Kelly was getting all up in his business when he was still feeling the effects of one specific coworker getting all up in his business.
Nate shifted in his seat. He definitely could still feel that, and frankly, if it weren’t for the fact that he might embarrass himself, he’d much rather reminisce about last night than contemplate meeting Kelly’s cousin for coffee.
If he hadn’t spent almost an hour lamenting the state of his love life to her and Caley two weeks ago, he would’ve just told her he wasn’t interested in dating right now. But after that conversation, what was he supposed to say? Sorry, but I’ve decided to sleep my way through this country’s gay population, beginning with my cohost? She’d probably try to stage an intervention.
His cell phone chirped as the crew started the safety video, and he spared it a brief glance. Earlier in the day, he’d gotten a message from Jess about rescheduling a meeting. Maybe she was canceling that? But no—it was his mother texting him flight details. Can’t wait to see you this Thanksgiving!
So that was one weekend he wouldn’t be exploring his new approach to life, but he could probably take a four-day break from casual sex to spend some time with his parents. He added the details to his calendar and turned his phone to flight mode.
It was only then that he noticed Aubrey in the aisle seat across from him, apparently engrossed in the safety demonstration.
Maybe he was a nervous flier.
IF AUBREY was worried at all about how sleeping with Nate would affect their working relationship, he didn’t need to be. Their first show back after Winnipeg was the smoothest yet. Aubrey spent the commercial breaks drafting the most ridiculous yet still relevant phrasings he could come up with to get Nate to crack. Nate stared long-sufferingly at the camera to let the viewers know in no uncertain terms that he didn’t get paid enough to put up with Aubrey’s nonsense, and Bob in Advertising walked around like he’d personally given the show license to print money. Of course their demographic had shifted enough that he didn’t know who to sell ad space to, but that wasn’t Aubrey’s problem.
Aubrey had plenty of other things to worry about.
“You’re underrotating on the triple,” he told Greg at their practice on Friday.
“Do you think any of the Cirque people are going to notice if I land on the wrong edge?” Greg asked testily, and okay, maybe Aubrey had been a little extra critical today. Most Olympic judges would’ve needed a slow-motion replay to catch that.
“Uh,” Aubrey said, scrambling with whether to word an apology or an excuse.
“Speaking of edges, you’ve been on one since you got back from your trip to Winnipeg. Did something happen at work?”
“Uh,” Aubrey repeated. Without thinking about it, he started to skate backward, away from Greg. Some primal part of his brain had engaged the fight-or-flight response. Aubrey was a lover, not a fighter. Flight it was.
Greg narrowed his eyes, obviously scenting blood in the water. “Did something happen with—”
Somewhere in the rink, someone laughed, and a locker room door banged open into solid concrete, fortunately reminding Greg that not only were they not alone, but Nate’s group had the ice after them.
Aubrey’s skates bumped slowly into the boards and he let out a breath, figuring he was caught anyway. “Come on,” he said firmly. “We still have five minutes. Then I’ll let you interrogate me over beer.”
Greg lifted a shoulder easily, unperturbed. “Sure. But after this week? You’re buying.”
Considering his propensity for gossip, Greg behaved himself admirably, waiting until they were ensconced in a booth in a down-market neighborhood place not far from the arena before he prompted, “All right, tell me everything.”
Aubrey scrubbed his hands over his face. A server stopped by for their drink orders, offering him a few seconds’ reprieve, but in the end, he didn’t have to say much. As soon as he met Greg’s gaze, Greg knew.
“Holy shit.”
Aubrey groaned and fought the urge to bang his head against the table.
Greg lowered his voice and hunched forward. “So? Are the two of you a thing now?
“Uh. Not exactly.”
“What do you mean, not exactly? This isn’t a question with a lot of gray area. You said you were looking for something long-term. So…?”
There was nothing for it. “Does twice in one night count?”
Greg sputtered into a cough. “Not in most people’s books, although congratulations, I guess.” Then he turned serious. “I’m assuming that rather than approach the idea of having a relationship with him, you just charmed his pants off and hoped for the best?”
Aubrey had plenty of empirical evidence about how good he was in bed; he didn’t need to hope—but that wasn’t totally inaccurate either. He flashed the server a smile as she deposited their drinks and then immediately pulled his toward himself and took a swig.
“So, yes.”
“It was really good?” he offered feebly. He sounded miserable about it. Because he was, apparently. That just went to show how messed up everything had gotten, if Aubrey could be depressed about how great the sex was.
“So what’s the problem, exactly?”
“He basically asked me to help him figure out how to hook up with people.”
“And you decided a live demonstration was the way to go.”
“Would it make it any better if I pointed out that the hotel didn’t have any more rooms free, there was a blizzard, and I needed a place to sleep?”
Greg put down his drink without taking a sip. “No, you dumbass, that makes it worse.”
Yeah. Aubrey thought so too. “Anyway, now he knows,” he said. “So he’s free to take that knowledge and….” He waved his hand broadly to indicate, vaguely, offer himself to the Chicago meat market. “And I am going to respect his decision to explore what being hot, out, and single is like, because this is probably karma or something.”
“You’re being suspiciously mature about this.”
Aubrey managed a pathetic smile. “Don’t worry, it’s temporary.” He just needed to go out and get it out of his system.
“That’s very reassuring.” Greg shook his head and raised his glass. “Good luck.”
Chapter Nine
DR. DEVON Bailey was a thirty-six-year-old anesthesiologist with perfect hair, perfect cheekbones, and perfect teeth. He had two hairless cats because he liked pets but was allergic to dander, he was training for a triathlon, and he’d just become an uncle for the first time.
Nate learned all of this within the first five minutes of their date at Ciao, an exclusive steakhouse in a trendy neighborhood.
Devon was handsome, all right. And Nate could be reasonably sure he wasn’t after his money. He was nice. Nate had never cared for cats and thought the hairless ones looked like Roswell gray aliens only scarier, but pet owners in general were kind people.
Devon was handsome and nice and family-oriented, and he wore a suit really well.
He bored Nate to tears.
At first he thought he was having trouble because it had been so long since he went on a date. Maybe it wasn’t Devon. Maybe the niceties of small talk just didn’t interest Nate anymore because he’d become a misanthropic cave dweller who only cared about himself.
But no. The server came by to take their orders, and Nate cheerfully detoured into a stimulating discussion of the wine list, as it turned out she had once lived next door to one of the vineyards, which happened to be near where Nate grew up. They reminisced about their mutual favorite drive-in ice cream diner until Devon set his water glass down and clinked it against the plate and Nate realized he was being rude and ordered a bottle of pinot.
Thank God he’d taken a Lyft.
“It’s just so hard to meet people at our age,” Devon said as Nate nodded along, hoping his phone would magically come off silent mode and ring with an urgent telemarketing call. “I can’t get into the club scene at all. I just don’t see the appeal of meaningless sex.”
You’ve obviously never met Aubrey Chase, Nate thought, but he inclined his head like he was supposed to. Was this what he used to sound like, judging people for their choices? Feeling alive, wanted, desirable wasn’t meaningless. God, he was such a douchebag. “It’s a meat market,” he responded automatically. That was the party line, wasn’t it?
“Exactly!” Devon said brightly, nearly sloshing his water out of the glass. He’d informed Nate at the beginning of their date that he didn’t drink more than one glass of wine, ever. This was the most animated he’d been all night. “Exactly.”
Maybe they could still salvage this, Nate thought. Maybe he could just stop answering Devon with what he wanted to hear and have a discussion, a conversation, instead of a call-and-response session. It felt like a weird sermon. Maybe they’d find common ground on a subject that actually mattered and Nate would suddenly find Devon sexually appealing and, if nothing else, go back to his place for sex. Or maybe their food would come quickly and end Nate’s suffering before he started contemplating stabbing his own thigh with his steak knife to escape.
Devon would probably insist on driving him to the hospital, but Nate would at least have a good excuse for feigning unconsciousness.
He didn’t have luck on any count. Devon mostly kept the conversational topics safe—weather, traffic, the proposed site of a hospital expansion. Nate sat on his left hand and pinched his thigh at intervals in an effort to stay engaged. Devon probably didn’t even need drugs to put patients to sleep.
The restaurant was the type of establishment to pride itself on a dining experience. In Nate’s estimation that mostly meant they took long enough delivering the food that people ordered twice as much alcohol. He didn’t think it would reflect well on him if he finished more than one bottle by himself, so numbing his brain was not an option.
The last time he’d gone out to a nice dinner, he’d been with Aubrey. He’d never felt the least bit pressured to say something Aubrey would agree with. Even in bed—
No. He wasn’t going to go there now, because apparently that was all it took for his dick to go from “medically induced coma” to “sentry duty.”
“Nate?” Devon frowned. “Are you okay?”
Nate snapped himself out of it. “Fine,” he made himself say and turned to the server. “Ah, no dessert for me tonight, thanks.”
Devon looked like he approved. Maybe he wanted to run screaming away from this date as bad as Nate did.
But Nate’s luck persisted. Devon paid the check and then gallantly offered Nate a ride home without even making it sound like an innuendo. Nate couldn’t find a good reason to decline and had to subject himself to an even more boring version of the car-buying spiel Bones had gone through the other night, only this time starring the safety features of a high-end Volvo SUV.
