A Kind of Honesty Read online

  “No brothers or sisters?”

  “No. Just me.”

  “I want to say ‘lucky you,’ but what do you do during the holidays? Where do you get your yearly dose of homemade apple pies, tacky Christmas sweaters, and random gifts you can’t return?”

  “I go to the Guldens’. Zeke and I met our freshman year at Princeton, and his parents kind of adopted me. I guess they felt sorry for the poor little rich kid who didn’t want to go to St. Lucia for Thanksgiving, so they invited me to their home. And I never left,” Carter chuckled. “It was a little awkward after we broke up, but—”

  “Broke up? Were you and Zeke…?” I let my hands do the talking for me, because the words didn’t make sense. Zeke belonged with Benny. I couldn’t see him with Carter. Or maybe I didn’t want to for reasons I couldn’t yet explain.

  Carter nodded. “He was my first and last real boyfriend. Everyone since him has been… like Lance, I guess.”

  “I don’t get it. You’re nothing like Benny. How long were you and Zeke together?”

  “Two and half years.”

  “Damn.”

  “We were friends who eventually became something more. Then he broke my heart. Thank God for George and Miri. His parents were as devastated as I was,” he commented with a self-deprecating half laugh. “I think they helped us get back to our friendship in a weird way. They’d set up these elaborate family dinners and let us believe the other guy wasn’t coming. They wanted us to kiss and make up, but what happened was even better. I needed a friend more than a lover. Zeke is my best friend. He’s the brother I never had and the one person I know I can call in the middle of the night to gripe about the Yankees or a lousy date. The view from ten years has given me some perspective. We never would have made it. He was too angry about things I couldn’t help him with. He needed time, and honestly, he needed someone like Benny who doesn’t back down easily.”

  “You don’t exactly seem like a pushover,” I replied distractedly as I tried to wrap my head around this unexpected news flash.

  “I’m not. Now. I grew up and grew out of the notion I could fix other people’s problems. I’m not looking for a forever thing anymore. It’s better to be happy with yourself.”

  “That’s not as easy as you make it sound.”

  “True. That’s why I do yoga,” he said nonchalantly.

  “You mean you weren’t just quoting a corny song from the seventies earlier? You actually do yoga?”

  “I love it. It helps me keep my balance… literally and figuratively.”

  “That sounds like a crock of new-age hippy shit.”

  Carter grinned like a madman. “Hey, everyone has something to keep them sane. Yoga and baseball work for me. How about you?”

  “Music. And when I can’t play or listen without my thoughts getting in the way, I walk. Or watch baseball,” I added with a smirk before taking a giant bite of my burger.

  “Do you ever play?”

  “Not in a while. I played on a rec league back home years ago. It was fun.”

  “What position?”

  “Short stop. Second base. Sometimes outfield. It was more a matter of having enough bodies to cover the positions. No one was an expert, though many thought they were.”

  “Well, if you’re ever interested, I organized a corporate league. I recruited some guys from my office, and we play with other firms. We practice twice a week and play games on Saturdays in Central Park or Park Slope. I want to say it’s all for fun, but it can get kind of heated.” Carter flashed a winning smile with his fork midair, and fuck, something dazzling in the gesture captivated me. “We could always use an extra sub on rotation.”

  When I stared a moment too long, he winked playfully and held my gaze. My face suddenly felt too warm, but I couldn’t seem to look away.

  “I don’t think I’d fit in with a bunch of corporate types.”

  “It’s baseball. Everyone fits in.”

  His vehement tone brooked no argument. And since I doubted he’d ever think to call me when one of his regulars was out for the weekend, I redirected the conversation back to why we were here in the first place.

  “Is this where we finally cut the bullshit and talk about what we’re really doing? We aren’t here to discuss my meager finances, and you don’t strike me as the kind of guy who gets off on trying to impress a drummer in a band with an overpriced steak. What do you want from me?”

  “Sex.”

  I did a double take and looked around warily. We had our section of the dining area to ourselves still. No doubt I’d scared away our previous neighbors and the maître d’ decided not to take a chance on me offending anyone else. Or maybe it was a slow night. The combination of privacy and a drink or two had obviously made Carter feel infinitely more relaxed. I was no longer under the impression I was with a friend of a friend trying to figure out how or if it was necessary to address our one-night stand. No. This was more like being propelled back in time with no clumsy exchanges in between. I knew this man. In spite of the location change, this no longer felt awkward. It felt… right.

  “Now we’re talking.” I cleared my throat and licked my bottom lip. “But let’s be honest, this has the potential of being… difficult.”

  “Maybe, but I can’t see a downside. We both appreciate discretion and we know the sex is amazing. Why not continue where we left off?”

  My cock twitched in excitement. There was something unbelievably erotic about this sharply dressed, gorgeous man in an elegant restaurant—it evoked the memory of that ratty motel room with the strong scent of sweat and cum and fierce desire. My mouth was dry and my heart beat unsteadily. I reached for my water and took a quick drink. I hoped to stall long enough for the sensual haze to dissipate so I could think clearly for a moment before the urge to swipe the china and crystal aside and make a dive for him overrode reason.

  “How would this work? I text a booty-call message and we meet at the arranged time and place to screw our brains out?”

  “I believe that was your suggestion. I like it,” he said, wiping his mouth with the corner of his napkin.

  “What’s the catch?”

  “We keep quiet. No one knows but us. It isn’t a catch, though. You were right. We know enough about each other to make this safe. And if at any time either of us wants to end it, we agree to do so with zero drama.”

  The air around us crackled with an electric current strong enough to render me speechless for a moment. I stared at the beautiful man across the table from me and wondered at the odd twists my life had taken in a relatively short time. A week ago my most pressing worry was breaking off a hellish relationship with a manipulative supermodel. I had a great imagination, but there’s no way I could have dreamed up this scenario.

  “Okay.” I set my napkin on the table and pushed my plate aside. My heart was racing, and it was damn uncomfortable to sit still with my dick nudging my zipper insistently. “Let’s—”

  “I’m so sorry, sir.” The maître d’ hurried to our table just as I was about to stand. I pulled out my wallet, thinking I’d give him my credit card to pass on to our waiter, but stopped to listen to his hushed exchange with Carter, which didn’t seem to have anything to do with our bill.

  “I understand. Is it ready now?”

  “Yes. Shall I send coffee or an aperitif?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” Carter stood and turned to me with a guarded smile. “Come this way. We can continue our discussion in private.”

  I glanced between Carter and the maître d’, who’d backed away from us deferentially with his head bowed. Their cryptic communication was confusing. “Aren’t we leaving?”

  “That won’t be necessary. We can discuss business upstairs comfortably.”

  Carter gave me an inscrutable look before inclining his head slightly to indicate he was ready. The maître d’ turned on his heel and led the way toward a hidden corridor at the opposite end of the restaurant. At first glance it was a pass-through for the waitstaff
to access the kitchen unobtrusively. However, there was a narrow but grand stairway to the right, paneled with the same rich, dark wood as the dining area. I followed the two men and stopped at the landing to shamelessly eavesdrop. Damn, they were good. I couldn’t hear much beyond “coffee” and “privacy.”

  The maître d’ opened the door at the end of the hallway and stood aside for us to enter. I had no idea what to expect. This little side tour felt like a page out of Alice in Wonderland, where every door led to the unexpected. Like this sitting room. It was a small room with opulent old-fashioned furnishings covered in luxurious silken brocade and trimmed with fine roped tassels in shades of pale gold. The heavy drapery coordinated beautifully with the dark side tables and wainscoting. The entire space looked like it was stuck in a time bubble circa early twentieth century. I wouldn’t have been overly surprised if a museum guard stepped out of the shadows to admonish us to not dare sit on the fancy old furniture.

  I tossed my sport coat on the back of the sofa and stuck my hands in my back pockets while Carter issued instructions in that same frustrating low tone. When the door clicked behind us, I turned to face him with a “what the fuck?” expression, but the words wouldn’t come. His lopsided grin had a feral quality that threw me off-balance. I cocked my head and searched for clues.

  “Where are we?”

  He didn’t answer right away. Instead he stepped toward me and slipped his arms around my waist.

  “Someplace quiet. We can talk or… do other things. No questions. No interruptions.” He angled his chin, then lowered it until his lips hovered over mine. I could feel his breath and his heat surrounding me. He was fiery, and I was in danger of being consumed without warning. His grin was slightly demonic. I couldn’t keep up, and I couldn’t figure him out.

  I swallowed hard and inched closer so my evident erection brushed against his through our layers of clothing. Carter growled, then grabbed my ass, tilting his hips as he licked at the corner of my mouth. I hooked one arm around his neck and bit his bottom lip before resting the tip of my tongue on his. The heat intensified. A layer of sweat beaded my forehead. He obviously wanted to lead, and I was curious enough to willingly follow. For now.

  A short knock broke the spell. I gulped for air and turned around to adjust myself while Carter dealt with the server carrying a tray with a coffee carafe, cups, milk, and sugar. I moved toward the window and ran my fingers along the elaborate trim before taking a seat at the nearby table. The waiter quickly unloaded his burden, making sure to avoid eye contact. I picked a sugar cube from the silver bowl and popped it in my mouth as I observed the frenzied motion with Carter. He followed the young man to the door and whispered something before closing it. The telltale sound of a lock clicking into place made me turn around.

  “We’re alone now.”

  “We’re still at a fucking restaurant. What’s going on? And why are you whispering to everyone? I want in on the secret.”

  Carter chuckled softly as he crossed the room and sat on the corner of the sofa. He patted the spot next to him in invitation. “I wasn’t whispering. I was being discreet.”

  I flopped gracelessly on the adjacent chair in a petty show of defiance. I hated not knowing the rules of a game. Any game… Monopoly, Risk, poker. Common courtesy dictated all participants should know if they were expected to lose their clothes at any point. If nothing else, it might influence what kind of underwear you chose to wear. Or if you wore any at all. I was frustrated and horny. Not a good combination.

  “Discreet is heading back to one of our places, not moving to another room in the restaurant. And geez! Look at this place. It’s like a movie set or something. Are we being filmed? Whoa. Is this part of your kink? Is there a hidden camera in the—?”

  Carter busted up laughing. “No, dummy. It’s just a private place to talk without interruption.”

  “We were doing that downstairs.”

  “We were only there because this was a last-minute thing.”

  “No offense, but none of this is my kind of thing. I’m going to choke if we don’t open a window or just get the fuck out.” I stood abruptly and pulled his hand. “Come on. I live ten blocks away. Let’s get outta here. This place is too fucking… fancy.”

  Carter yanked at my arm until I toppled down beside him. He set his hand over my mouth and shook his head meaningfully.

  “Shh. This place is perfect because I own it. So just relax, okay?” He released my hand when I nodded. As he was about to pull away, I bit his finger.

  “You what?”

  He glared at me but didn’t move away. “I own this restaurant. It’s been in my family for over a century. Ideally we would have dined up here tonight, but it was booked and there wasn’t a comparable space to move the Academy Award–winning actress who wanted to dine with her lover at the last minute.”

  “So you hire this room out as a slam pad?”

  “No! Jesus! It’s a place to dine that’s out of the public eye. That’s all. She’s a famous actress who happens to be romantically entangled with her female assistant. She doesn’t want the press hounding her while she enjoys a meal.”

  I stared at him incredulously for a moment. I wasn’t sure what to think of this new tidbit of information. The Hamilton-Temple name had more clout and money behind it than I’d realized. No wonder he kept harping about privacy and discretion. I was definitely going to have to google him later.

  Carter lounged back onto the sofa and peered at me thoughtfully under the fringe of hair covering his right eye. He looked dashing in spite of his slightly mussed state. He reminded me of an old-time black-and-white movie star like Cary Grant or Clark Gable. Someone who didn’t have to try to be sexy. It was simply their natural state. The fact he was a bit of a daredevil was the icing on the cake. I liked his sense of adventure, but it was important to know we were on the same wavelength or this might be over tonight.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I told you. Sex.”

  “What kind of sex?”

  Carter’s smile widened. “Since we’re men… gay sex.”

  “That’s not what I meant, smartass. How dirty? Are we dressing up?”

  “We can if you want.”

  “I don’t get off on reenacting the Village People’s wardrobe changes, but I’m willing to play.”

  He smirked, then reached over to palm my crotch. He squeezed my dick through the rough denim and lowered his eyelids seductively.

  “I’ve got all kinds of dirty ideas in my head, Tim. I have a hard”—he pressed the heel of his hand against my shaft and rolled it deliberately. I moaned and lifted my hips to meet the additional friction—“time keeping my kink on track. One minute I’ve got this scene worked out in my head about a sexy, tattooed truck driver who pulls over to help me change my tire. The only payment he wants is a blowjob.”

  I gulped. “That’s it?”

  He leaned into me, nibbling my jaw, then licking my Adam’s apple as he unbuckled and unzipped my jeans. He tugged at the fabric, wordlessly requesting me to move so he could push the denim out of his way. I obeyed and started working on my shirt buttons. When he slipped his fingers underneath the elastic of my briefs and brushed gently at the tip of my cock, my breath caught in my chest. I turned my head to capture his mouth, but he wasn’t done making me crazy.

  “Maybe he doesn’t expect more, but I’m horny as hell, so I offer. Next thing I know my Zegna suit pants are around my ankles and I’m bent over the backseat of my Mercedes while traffic whizzes by.”

  “Oh… damn. Take off your clothes, Cart. Come closer. I wanna touch you.”

  He flung his leg over mine and tightened his hold. “Hmm. You will. Sometimes the idea of a burly, tatted man who knows his way around a car engine is all it takes to set me off. Sometimes the story changes and I’m riding a—”

  “No more.” I pulled at the back of his neck and crashed my lips over his in a predatory move that was all carnal need. I didn’t need any porno
plotlines. I needed him.

  He groaned as he licked my lips while stroking my achingly hard cock. Then he released me to spit on his palm. When he returned it a moment later with a firmer grip, I gyrated into his fist and sucked on his tongue. Carter pulled back for air, then bit my bottom lip.

  “You don’t want to hear my fantasy material? This stuff keeps me up at night, Tim. It’s a real problem. I can’t get dick off my brain. In the shower, in the car, in my office. Sometimes I sit at my desk and—”

  I growled and lunged for him, yanking him forcefully over me so he straddled my thighs. I bucked upward, hoping to find some friction as I held his head still and shoved my tongue deep in his mouth. We made out in a frenzy, plucking at the barrier of clothing between us in search of heat and skin. I heard a button pop from Carter’s expensive shirt and the clinking of a belt buckle as he undressed without breaking the intense connection.

  He fell sideways and pulled me along so I lay flat on top of him on the silken sofa. We were bare-chested with our pants shoved over our asses, grinding our impossibly hard cocks together as we humped like a couple of horny teenagers in the backseat of a borrowed car. Carter clawed his nails into my ass and tried to lift his leg to accommodate me, but his linen-blend trousers were trapped at his feet by his shoes. He grunted in frustration and tried to free himself to no avail. He lost his balance and inadvertently toppled us off the low sofa and onto the plush Persian rug.

  The short fall broke our fevered embrace. We panted as we stared at each other for a half beat in surprise.

  “Take ’em off. Hurry,” Carter commanded in a breathy voice as he sat up to remove his shirt.

  He toed off his shoes and pushed his pants aside, then glanced at me lustfully before moving to stand over me. I worked furiously to catch up to his naked state, but I was understandably distracted when he held his cock at the base and bent slightly to nudge the swollen flesh into my face in clear invitation. I stared up at him in a daze. I felt like I’d literally fallen into someone else’s fantasy. This room with its polished veneer evoked tales of obscene wealth and lurid secrets. The successful executive wearing nothing but black socks as he shoved his cock at his lover to suck was like a scene from an erotic novel come to life. We could pretend we were from another era. Men from different classes who couldn’t deny their desire. The Victorian banker and the tatted sailor or—