Kian: Have you told her about the therapist yet?
Last week Kian had given me a card for a therapist he knows. He’s mentioned a few times that she seems to be falling more and more depressed. I know he means well, but every time he brings it up, it feels like a personal attack.
Me: No, but I will when the timing is right.
Kian: I think she would benefit from talking to someone.
Me: She talks to me.
Kian: A professional someone.
Me: Kids are done snacking, we’re off to finish our hike. See you later.
I tuck my phone away. Sara won’t even talk about signing the divorce papers. I can’t imagine her being receptive about a therapist. The official documents haven’t left her nightstand. I read through them more thoroughly one time while she was at work. She was right, he gave her sole custody, only writing in minimal child support payments. Such a piece of shit.
I get the kids squared away with the sitter and tell her I’ll be back by two. Thankfully, she drives, so I don’t have to worry about having a few drinks. I walk to the club, deciding small towns are my favorites. No need for designated drivers or Ubers because the bar is a few blocks away.
The bouncer, Steve, knows me by name now and I walk through the heavy curtains without paying a cover charge. I make my way through the throngs, although that’s a bit dramatic since a gay club in Brigs Ferry Bay isn’t all that crowded. There are enough people I don’t spot Kian right away, though.
I stop by the bar and order a drink. I wave to a couple people I’ve been introduced to over the last couple times I’ve been here. It’s strangely calming to know people and connect with a community. When I’d first moved here, I didn’t think I’d stay for longer than Sara needed, but I’m changing my mind day by day. And not just because Sara will most likely need me for a long time to come.
I walk the perimeter of the club, still not seeing Kian. I’m starting to think he’s in his office, when I see him on the dance floor.
Fernando stands behind him, one of his legs between Kian’s and his hands on his hips. The diner owner is ridiculously sexy and I’ve often wondered if he and Kian had a previous relationship, or at least something casual. I’ve noticed the way Fernando touches Kian when they talk, their inside jokes they don’t bother to explain, and I know he and Jarrett stop into Focus most every night.
Maybe they’re just close friends. I haven’t asked, telling myself it’s none of my business. But seeing them dancing together, the flare of jealousy has me questioning how much I consider Kian and me to be nothing more than friends with benefits anymore.
I find an empty bistro table and stand next to it, watching the scene and trying to make sense of my feelings. It shouldn’t matter who he dances with or who he fucks. That’s what we agreed on. Seeing him on the dance floor laughing and moving with Fernando, though, I wonder if it’s me keeping us as just friends or him.
Kian turns around so he’s facing toward me now. He pops his ass out into Fernando’s groin. I scrub my fingers through my beard. My insides twist up and I fight the urge to rush over and put distance between them. I’m not some twenty-something barbarian, pushing people around to get what I want, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.
Kian’s gaze locks on mine and he beams over at me. Within seconds, he’s abandoned Fernando and is in front of me, swinging his arms around my neck. I breathe him in, his sweet and spicy scent hitting my nostrils. I grab his ass and press him tightly against me so he can feel the instant hard-on having him close gives me. He leans his head back, his brows meeting his hairline.
“Someone’s happy to see me.”
“I’d be even happier if we were in your office with you bent over the arm of your sofa, your ass bare to me.” I squeeze a cheek to punctuate my suggestion. Maybe the caveman part of me is stronger than I thought because the only thing I can think of to make my head right is to claim him.
“Come on.” He leads me toward the stairs, not even bothering to say goodbye to Fernando. My chest puffs and my fears calm.
I’ve barely shut and locked the door when Kian is all over me like a spider monkey, tugging off my shirt and unbuttoning my pants. The first time we were together, he had a perpetual look of shock on his face. He was timid and allowed me to take control fully. The more we fuck, though, the more his power bottom energy comes out.
Being a switch, I like the top and bottom dynamics. With Kian, I’m the only one who penetrates, but he fucks me from the bottom just as often as I fuck him from the top. It proves we’re even more compatible than I initially thought.
“I guess I’m not the only one feeling needy.” I laugh, watching him struggle to yank my shoes off. “Want some help?”
He jumps to his feet, blowing his floppy brown hair out of his eyes. “Please.”
“Did dancing with Fernando work you up?” I toe my shoes off and shove my pants off the rest of the way.
“What?” he asks as his head pops free from his own shirt being removed.
“You seemed into him out there.” Shut up. Shut up. You’re going to ruin the moment.
“Oh. No, we were just goofing off.” Kian presses his lips to mine, his tongue demanding immediate entry.
“It looked like more than that,” I say against his mouth.
His lips freeze and he rears back, his eyes narrowing in question.
“I mean, it’s none of my business,” I add.
“It’s not, but I wouldn’t lie about it.” He crosses his arms over his smooth, flat chest.
“So you aren’t fucking him?” Fuck. Why can’t I drop this?
“I have in the past, but I put a stop to it before you and I even started hooking up.”
I nod, but then more questions pop into my head and I can’t shove them back down. This isn’t the time or place. I’m standing here naked, for chrissakes, and his pants are undone, his cock desperate trying to get free. I should shut up and do what I came up here to do.
“Are you sleeping with anyone other than me?” I’m an idiot.
“Why do you care?” Annoyance drips from his tone.
“I think if we’re having sex regularly, we should know who the other person is fucking. To be safe, you know?” I swallow the lump in my throat.
“We are safe. We use a condom every time.”
“But condoms break.”
“What is this about?”
“Just what I said.”
“Is it? Because until tonight, you never even asked how many partners I’ve had. Or if I’ve been safe or tested.” He flops down on the couch exaggeratedly.
“How many? Have you been safe?” Since my pants are still around my ankles, I pull them back up.
“Yes, Archer,” he says my name like a curse. “I may live in a tiny town, but I’m not an idiot.”
“It’s not a ridiculous question.”
“It’s not, it’s just ridiculous timing and I don’t think it’s what you’re really worked up over.”
“If you know me so well, what I am worked up over?” At this point, I don’t even know what I’m upset about.
He stands up and struts my way. He oozes sexuality with everything he does. The way he walks, the glint in his eye when he’s talking, his fluid gestures, and how he never tries to hide who he is. His confidence is an aphrodisiac.