Chance to Bloom Page 8

  He was hopeful again, at least. As long as he still had hope, it meant he hadn’t given up.

  Now he just had to figure out how to deal with Jack.

  It was late when Ethan finally got back home. He hadn’t meant to spend so long at Frankie’s apartment, but he definitely didn’t regret it. It had felt good to finally get some of the things he’d been feeling for the past couple of days off his chest—to talk to someone who actually understood what he was going through.

  Well, most of what he was going through, anyway.

  Frankie just had a way of making Ethan feel better. No matter what the problem was, Frankie either had a comforting hug or a tidbit of advice that never failed to resonate with Ethan. Usually, it was a combination of the two.

  There was one piece of advice Frankie had given that would absolutely not work, though. Sleeping with Jack was not the answer Ethan had been looking for.

  Ethan rolled his eyes at the thought as he got out of his car and walked up the driveway to his mom’s house. Unfortunately, it was going to take a little more than some strategic flirting—or sex, for that matter—to solve this problem.

  Not that Ethan would necessarily have been opposed to trying, of course.

  Objectively, Jack was hot. Really hot. And probably really good in bed, too. Those arms, that chest, those eyes…

  But no.

  It wouldn’t work, for so many reasons—the main one still being that Jack was planning on selling off everything that Ethan loved, his safe place, his livelihood.

  That was just wrong, no matter how hot the guy was.

  Then there was the potential problem—or at least potential obstacle—of Jack’s sexuality. Ethan’s brain was pretty sure Jack was straight. Ethan’s body, though—and his cock, in particular—thought maybe not, and didn’t particularly care if he was, anyway.

  Wishful thinking, no doubt. Was Ethan really going to think with his dick when it came to men? Hadn’t he learned his lesson on that subject already?

  He unlocked and opened the front door as quietly as possible, thankful that he was greeted by a darkened living room. The house still smelled like lasagna. What a waste of his favorite meal. He craned his head to look down the hallway toward his mother’s bedroom.

  There was no light shining from under the door.

  Perfect.

  Even though he knew it was pretty much inevitable, the last thing he wanted in that moment was a continuation of the dinner conversation he’d had with his mother.

  She’d likely press him about his thoughts and his feelings about everything at some point, but for now? He was really tired of talking about it. And for once, the universe seemed to be on his side.

  Ethan walked straight to the bathroom and turned the shower on hot, happy for the soothing steam as he took off his clothes. If anything would relax him and let him push aside the night’s events, it would be a nice, long shower. And there was no doubt he’d need every bit of rest and relaxation he could get if he was going to get through the next day with Jack.

  He stepped into the shower and closed his eyes as the hot water washed over him.

  Jack.

  It had been impossible to stop thinking about him since the moment Ethan had met the man. At first, he’d been intrigued. Later, he’d been pissed off and hurt. But now?

  Now he was horny.

  “Dammit, Frankie,” Ethan mumbled, cursing his friend for putting the thought into his head.

  Well, for making him think about Jack that way again. Sex had been the last thing on Ethan’s mind since he’d found out Jack’s plan to sell the shop, but Frankie’s casual joke had reignited that spark, and Ethan’s traitorous body had decided now would be a great time to fan the flames.

  Even though Ethan didn’t really think he stood a snowball’s chance in hell of actually getting Jack in bed, the suggestion of it—the fantasy of it—was hot as hell. And as long as it was just a fantasy, just a little indulgence, a release… that was okay, wasn’t it? It wasn’t like Ethan was letting himself fall for Jack, after all. It wasn’t like he was actually considering doing… well, anything with his sexy, straight boss.

  Not in real life, at least.

  But here, in the privacy of his shower, with nothing but his imagination and his own roaming hands, none of the reasons he shouldn’t do anything with Jack in real life mattered.

  Ethan opened his eyes and leaned back against the cool tile wall, using his fingertips to trace the lines of water as they ran in rivulets down his body. For a split-second he told himself he was just washing… but no. No, he wasn’t. He tilted his chin up, turning his face more fully toward the shower’s spray, and ran a finger lightly over his wet lips.

  Would Jack kiss him, if they started something?

  Yes. Tonight, at least, when Jack was all in Ethan’s head, Jack would do everything Ethan wanted. Jack would start at his jawline—nipping and biting and whispering dirty things as he pressed Ethan against the wet tile. And he’d touch him, those strong hands that had sent a little quiver of awareness through Ethan the first time they’d touched. A simple handshake, but it was so easy to imagine more. To remember the warmth and strength of Jack’s grip and think about what it would feel like elsewhere.

  Ethan’s breath hitched in his throat as his own light-as-a-feather touch moved lower, skimmed along the pulsing vein that stood out from his neck and sent a cascade of erotic shivers through his body. Would Jack’s touch have been so light, so delicate as it traveled down to the base of Ethan’s neck, to the spot where Ethan could feel his pulse fluttering against his fingertips… faster and faster as he let himself start to fall deeper into the fantasy?

  No, Jack’s touch would be firm, his large hands more insistent. And he wouldn’t waste any time. He’d know how badly Ethan wanted him. His hands would move lower, trailing that pleasure down toward Ethan’s already swollen cock. Just like… just like Ethan was doing. His breaths coming shorter and faster in the warm cloud of the shower’s steam as he moved his own hands lower, circling first one, then the other of his sensitive nipples.

  Jack would pinch them.

  “Oh, God,” Ethan moaned as he did it, his head falling back to bump against the tile as his touch—so easy to let himself imagine it was really Jack’s touch—sent a jolt of heat straight to his cock.

  He glanced down at his straining erection, but resisted the urge to wrap a hand around it. He was happy to let this fantasy play out for as long as he could. To draw it out and enjoy it. Yes, he’d taken care of himself plenty of times during the recent dry spell since the ugly breakup with his ex, but so much of that had been just… physical. Just a quick release. And even before, when he’d let himself fantasize about Jack right after they’d met, it had been more abstract.

  Jack was becoming more real to him now, though. He may not like what Jack was doing—not gonna think about that, though—but he liked the man. Liked the way Jack looked at him sometimes. Liked to watch the play of muscles under his clothes. Liked those moments when they inadvertently brushed against each other.

  Liked how Jack treated him, even though they didn’t know each other well.

  And this? Now? No way was he going to rush it. He grazed his nipples again, letting his eyes flutter closed as he gave himself permission to imagine every single thing he wanted. To let his own hands do everything he wanted. It was probably the closest he’d ever get to feeling Jack’s touch on his body, and even though the “Jack” part of it was all in his head, Ethan was determined to enjoy every second of it.

  His cock pulsed as he imagined how Jack would look in here with him. Naked and wet and oh God, looking at Ethan while he touched him. Leaning in to kiss him while his hands worked their magic. Swallowing the low moans and panting little gasps that Ethan couldn’t stop himself from making. And the sensations that were coursing through his body, the ripples of pleasure that fantasy-Jack’s fingers were bringing him, only made Ethan want more.

  More.

  Faster.


  Now.

  He’d let Jack know it, too. He’d tell him exactly what he wanted, and Jack’s eyes would flare with heat as he gave it to him… Ethan bit his lip to stifle another moan—this one far too loud—as his hands traveled down over his taut stomach. Almost there. His cock jerked in anticipation, but Ethan hesitated for a second as he considered what his sexy fantasy Marine might do.

  Would he have followed those big, calloused hands down Ethan’s body with a trail of hungry kisses? Would he growl Ethan’s name with that sexy, deep voice that made Ethan’s whole body shiver with pure, primal lust?

  “Yes,” Ethan whispered, his eyes popping open and his own voice sounding rough and gravelly to his ears, thick with desire.

  His imaginary version of Jack would happily do all of those things, and more. He’d crowd Ethan back against the wall, pressing that big, hard body against him, and drive him crazy.

  Ethan moaned again, shoving one fist into his mouth to stifle the sound and finally—finally—wrapping his other hand around his so-hard-it-was-aching cock. Oh, God. Oh… yes. It was so good—he was so turned on, so lost in the fantasy—that it really did feel like Jack’s hand, slowly starting to stroke him.

  And then... faster.

  He closed his eyes again as he thrust into his hand, trying and failing to swallow back the low, needy moans that escaped his lips every time his fist slid over his throbbing cock. Jack’s fist. Jack… still pressing against him. Rough stubble against Ethan’s throat, inflaming him. Warm lips moving against his skin… sucking... licking… telling him how much Jack wanted Ethan to come for him.

  How Jack was going to make him come.

  In that moment, it didn’t matter that Jack was Ethan’s boss, or Gary’s son, or a straight stranger who seemed to want nothing more than to breeze out of Ethan’s life as quickly as he’d entered it. It didn’t matter that in reality, Ethan was full of conflicting emotions, that he wasn’t sure if his bad choices and bad luck in love would ever let him fall for another man as hard and completely as he’d fallen before, or if he even wanted to try again.

  It didn’t matter that Jack almost certainly wasn’t interested in Ethan like that, anyway.

  The only thing that mattered was the present moment—the escape, the release, the waves of pleasure that were already threatening to overtake him.

  Jack would know just how to push him over the edge, too.

  Ethan’s fist tightened around his throbbing cock for a moment, staving off his impending orgasm, and he slid his other hand—Jack’s hand, Jack’s hand—down behind him, smoothing it over his ass and dipping into the crease, letting his fingers play around and over his hole as his hips thrust forward. As he had to start stroking himself again, faster and faster.

  Ethan’s breath hitched as the pressure on his most sensitive place sent shockwaves of pleasure through him. His balls started to tighten up, and Jack knew—fantasy-Jack—he knew exactly what Ethan needed. Jack’s large, rough hands—one taking charge of his cock as the other pressed gently but insistently against that tight ring of muscle.

  “Oh, God,” Ethan groaned, his climax building inside him so hard and fast that he couldn't have stopped it if he’d wanted to.

  He didn’t. What he wanted was Jack. Wanted his hands, his body, his mouth.

  His cock.

  He wanted Jack to fuck him.

  Ethan’s hips bucked wildly and he let out a long, low moan that he could only pray the shower masked. He was right at the edge… right… there. His hand moved in a blur, stroking himself toward a kind of release that he hadn’t had in longer than he could remember—the kind that might wreck him—and then he was teetering right there. Ready to fall. Ready to come apart.

  Unstoppable.

  He gave in and slipped his finger inside, driving his cock into his fist with a hoarse shout. The tight heat of his ass gripped his finger tight, pulsing as he clenched and released with the power of the orgasm that crashed through him.

  “Oh, God. Oh, Jack,” he panted, almost whimpering as he spilled out over his fist.

  For several long seconds, Ethan kept his eyes closed, letting the aftershocks course through his body in warm waves of pleasure that made him feel boneless. That had been… wow. He hadn’t let himself really go like that in, maybe ever?

  When his cock finally started to soften, he forced his eyes open, leaning against the tile and watching the water swirl down the drain. It had already washed away the evidence of his fantasy, but he was still trying to catch his breath, still relaxed and feeling better than he had in a long time as his body came down from the sexy-Marine-induced high.

  His legs were shaky and he wasn’t sure if he could even walk after the intensity of the orgasm he’d just experienced, but the quick shock of cold when the last bit of hot water ran out finally got him moving. He had no idea how long he’d been in the shower, but it must have been a while for the water to have turned so frigid. And as good as he felt, no matter how hot his fantasy of Jack had been, having it doused—quite literally—with cold water might have been for the best.

  It was just a fantasy, and the reality of Jack’s presence in his life was a hell of a lot more complicated. But God, Ethan was exhausted. He didn't want to figure it out or think about it or worry any more tonight. And maybe, now that he’d let himself do this, he’d get his wish. Maybe he’d actually be able to go to bed without thinking about the infuriating, maddening, too-damn-sexy-to-stay-mad-at Marine, now that he’d gotten him out of his system.

  Maybe.

  But… probably not.

  Ethan sighed as he reached for the towel and began drying his body, shivering a little as he stepped out of the shower and onto the cheerful sunflower bathmat. He wasn’t even fooling himself. Jack wasn’t out of his system. And while he might have been able to fool his body into thinking it had been Jack’s hands touching him, he couldn’t fool his mind about real-life-Jack’s very real intentions any more than he could forget about them.

  Not even for one night.

  Jack was a good guy. Ethan didn’t doubt that at all. But that didn’t change the fact that he was planning on doing something that would turn Ethan’s whole world upside down, would take away the one place he’d felt secure and happy and wanted and… needed for the past few years.

  He didn’t expect Jack to understand, didn’t even know if it was worth it to try and explain how he felt. Because no matter how vivid his imagination was, the truth was that Jack was never going to put things back the way they’d been when Gary had been alive.

  Back when Ethan’s life had finally seemed like it was on the right track.

  The question was—if things were going to be different—was there any way Ethan could ever recapture that feeling?

  Chapter 8

  Jack

  Jack’s mind was racing when he left Ethan’s house. He’d sat in the driveway for a while, wondering and sort of hoping that Ethan might come back, that they might be able to have a conversation that didn’t get so… emotional.

  Not that Jack wasn’t used to people raising their voices. Yelling in the Marines was just a way of life. But there, the people who were doing the yelling weren’t actually upset with him. They weren’t yelling at him because he’d ruined their lives.

  That was what Ethan had implied, though. And that was what had shaken Jack to the core.

  He hadn’t set out to ruin anyone’s anything—especially not someone like Ethan. But there really wasn’t any other way to do things, was there? It would be ridiculous for Jack to keep the flower shop, wouldn’t it? He didn’t know shit about flowers, or customer service, or running a business. Sure, he could read the reports Ethan had shown him easily enough, but the actual day-to-day business bullshit?

  No, thank you. Besides, even if he did want to keep the shop, would it ever really feel like it belonged to him? Would he ever be able to walk through that door without picturing his dad behind the counter?

  And then there were the bil
ls. The stack of unpaid medical bills. The credit cards. The funeral expenses that by themselves added up to more money than Jack could possibly come up with on his own.

  He had to sell. But he wanted Ethan to understand why, too. Ethan had said he understood, but he didn’t. If he had, he wouldn’t have been so upset.

  Jack found himself in front of the shop—and in front of his dad’s old apartment—without even realizing he’d been going there. He put his truck in reverse, intending to pull away and go… where, exactly? Not back to Ethan’s house. And he didn’t really want to go back to his depressing little hotel room, either.

  Aside from driving around aimlessly, those were his only options. So… fuck it.

  Jack shifted his truck into park and got out before he could change his mind again. In just a few moments, he was inside the shop and on his way up the back stairs to the little apartment above. He only paused for a moment when he unlocked the door, and then he was inside his dad’s living room again.

  No, it was impossible to think of the place as his own. Not while it was still full of his dad’s stuff, his papers, his furniture, his clothes.

  Jack turned around and put his hand back on the doorknob. He felt just as overwhelmed as he had the first time he’d stepped foot into the small space, like the memory of his dad—like the very air he was breathing—was closing in around him.

  “No,” Jack said out loud, closing his eyes for a moment as he scrubbed a hand over his face. Jesus, he was even sweating. He was going to have to calm the fuck down if he was going to get through the ordeal in front of him.

  He took a deep breath and looked around.

  Okay. Okay. He could do this. He just needed a… process. A system. Something to guide him, something he could do slowly and methodically.

  His eyes fell on the small desk in the corner of the room. “As good a place to start as any,” he mumbled to himself. After all, judging by the random receipts and hastily scrawled notes that littered the desktop, it was just a bunch of papers. Just the everyday junk that everyone accumulated as they went about their lives.