“There’s one more I’d like to try,” Sid says, scrolling through the photos. “Lose the towels, and Tripp, I’ll have you sitting on the bench; Dex, you’ll straddle his lap. These photos are sweet but still friendly. They’re missing the sexual connection I’m looking for.”
This is what I was worried about. I look at Tripp, waiting for him to put an end to it, but his expression is closed off, and no one else speaks up. I can feel the attention of everyone in the room on us.
Tripp drops his towel and takes position.
If Tripp can do this, so can I, confusion be damned. I’m not doing a great job to hide it, but if I care about Tripp, I have to.
I snap off my towel and cross toward him with a confidence I don’t feel. His eyes are on me, and I can tell he’s looking without seeing, but that doesn’t stop my heartbeat going berserk anyway.
I climb into his lap, knees either side of his thick thighs, and link my hands behind his neck.
Tripp’s gaze sharpens on me.
His lips part on a breath, and then, almost like he’s scared to, his hands close over my sides.
“Good. Much better,” Sid says.
I’m barely aware of the camera.
The only thing in the room is Tripp. His long eyelashes, intense hazel eyes, a crooked nose that usually leads to an equally crooked smile, but there’s nothing amused about his expression right now.
My hands find their way into his hair, and I hold back a shiver as his dip lower. Along my ribs, over my waist, coming to a rest on my hips.
He squeezes.
Tight.
So fucking secure.
It grounds me.
And then his thumb ducks under the elastic waistband of my Calvin Kleins.
Oh, shit.
My hands tighten in his hair as I try to stop the rush of desire hitting my groin, try, desperately, to think of anything—anything—else other than the way my cock is thickening.
It’s no use.
And when it grazes his abs, I shoot back off his lap, cheeks blazing. I rush for the showers where I left my clothes, hands planting firmly in front of my dick.
“Wait, Dexter, that’s a perfectly normal—” Sid starts.
“We’re done here,” I call back over my shoulder. There’s no way I can keep going, because I’m not even sure which part is fake anymore.
And that scares me.
I’ve always loved Tripp. I’ve always loved being close to him.
But the only boners I’ve ever cracked around him are the morning wood we both wake up with.
This was more than that.
This boner was one hundred percent linked to Tripp.
But having another man’s hands on him shouldn’t make a straight dude hard, no matter how much he loves his friend.
So now I’m entering freak-out mode, because I’m too dumb to deal with this by myself. Tripp is the one I go to about sex things or advice on relationships, but how can I begin to explain this one to him?
I’m scared.
But when I think about why, it’s not the answer I’m expecting.
I’m not scared of the thought of being with a guy like that.
I’m scared of being dumb again.
Of confusing these feelings for something they’re not.
Of doing something to lose Tripp for good.
But most of all, I’m scared that these feelings for Tripp might go away, and I really, really don’t want them to.
Fourteen
TRIPP
I’m left in the locker room with all eyes on me and no idea how to excuse why Dex would run out of here like that. Way to throw me under the bus, dude.
“He’s, uh, still shy when it comes to all this … stuff.” Then I realize that might sound weird considering we’re supposed to be married for real, not just on paper. “I mean, he’s comfortable with me at home, obviously. But yeah, maybe the audience was too much for him.”
That sounds legit. I think. I glance at Damon to see if I pulled it off. His tentative and forced smile tells me no. Especially when we’re always so affectionate in public.
But that’s different. It’s never been sexual.
And from what I could feel against my stomach, that was definitely sexual. It’s not like I’ve never felt his hard-on before. We’ve shared a bed countless times because of Dex’s craving for affection. I’ve always dismissed it, because you can’t help what your dick does at times, and he has never freaked out like that before.
I tell myself not to read into it, because there has to be a simple explanation. Like the stress of the photoshoot had a weird reaction on his body. It wasn’t me he was turned on by; it was … biology.
Or maybe he really was self-conscious about it because there were cameras and people about.
Though, that thought doesn’t fill me with warmth if he’s so worried that people might actually believe he could be into me. Or guys in general.
Dex has never once given me any indication he has issues with me being gay, but maybe it’s different when it comes to other people thinking he is.
“I’m pretty sure we got the shot,” Sid says.
“Then I can get dressed and head out?”
“Yep. We have everything we need.”
I hurry to get changed so I can get to the car to meet Dex, but when I get there, he’s nowhere to be found. Dammit. He should have known I’d come straight after him, which means if he’s not embarrassed or feeling stupid, he’s back to guilty again.
I’m about to turn around and check out the rest of the building when my phone chimes in my pocket.
I caught an Uber home. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.
I hate that he’s laying the blame firmly on his own shoulders when he really doesn’t need to. This is my mistake as much as it is his, but with everything in overdrive—it breaking in the press, us suddenly having to pretend we’re a real couple—it’s like we’re constantly bombarded with the reminder that we made a mistake, and Dex is adamant about taking responsibility.
I didn’t have to say yes to fake marrying him.
We keep dancing around what it really means to be married in the public eye, what we’re going to have to endure, and this was only our first taste of it.
I get home, and as soon as I walk through the door, Dex glances up at me from his spot on the couch. His deep brown eyes are glossy, he looks so distraught, and I don’t give a shit about anything else we have going on. All I want is to make him feel better. I march over to Dex, and without warning, I tackle him on the couch.
“What are you—”
I blow a huge raspberry on his neck, and he squirms to get away from me while laughing uncontrollably. He laughs so hard he can’t breathe, and the sound is like coming home.
“There’s my Dex,” I say and lift up but stay on top of him.
His happiness fades. “What do you mean?”
“This whole situation is fucking with us, and it’s a mess, and I hate it, but we need to find a way to make it work.”
Dex shifts so he’s sitting up again, and I move to do the same, planting my ass next to him on the couch.
He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to make it work. And I didn’t know I’d …” He sucks in a sharp breath.
“Get hard while straddling me? It was a physical reaction, that’s all. It’s fine.”