Until it became clear that Lane was about to kiss him. That just wouldn’t do. He leaned back and looked down.
“Oh,” said Lane. He moved back to his side of the table.
Eddie looked up and the disappointment on Lane’s face was like a punch to the gut. That was not what Eddie wanted. He just didn’t want to kiss. He didn’t kiss, as a general rule; he didn’t care for it, for starters, and thought it implied more intimacy than was usually involved in his encounters with men. Lane was giving him lust-filled glances now, but that’s all it was: lust. They were men, weren’t they? Eddie had no need for such womanly things as cuddles and chocolate and love.
So Eddie said, “Is there somewhere we can go?”
Lane’s eyes widened in surprise, but then he smirked. “Well, old boy, the shady areas here are mostly taken up with my special elixir. Which, by the way, I’ve noticed you haven’t touched.”
Eddie looked at his glass. It looked and smelled like whiskey. He picked it up and raised the glass to his lips slowly before taking a small sip. Hot damn, it
was
whiskey. He took a bigger sip. “Where did you get this?”
“Canada. Or, I should say, that’s Kentucky’s finest bourbon, by way of Canada. Interesting legal loophole there.” Lane smiled. “Anyway, as I was saying, there’s no room at the inn here, but I suppose we could go to my place. It’s downtown a ways, but . . .”
Too much bother, Eddie decided. “I have a room at the Knickerbocker.”
Lane guffawed. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”
“When can you leave?”
“For you? Anytime.”
It was a line and Eddie knew it was a line. He suspected that, as manager of this establishment, Lane wasn’t actually required to be there. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’ll put Raul in charge and then we can go.”
Which was how Eddie found himself walking side by side with a mobster on a breezy spring night. As they walked down Broadway, the blinking bulbs of the signs shone on them like spotlights. There weren’t many people about, which was a blessing.
It was hard not to get caught up in the fever of the night, in the way the lights bounced off the glass of the buildings, off each other, in the way the very street seemed to glow. He glanced at Lane, who was looking at the sidewalk, though it didn’t escape Eddie’s notice that a smile played on Lane’s lips. Eddie felt like he should say something, but there didn’t seem to be anything to say.
Chapter 4
“Makin’ Whoopee”
L
ane was a little disappointed that the rooms of a Broadway star were not more lavish. The place was nicely decorated, but mostly plain, and clearly had been occupied for a while. There were costumes and makeup scattered over the desk in the corner and a lot of clothing hanging in the closet, from what Lane could see through the open door. The bed was unmade.
He didn’t know what to do with the fact that Eddie Cotton had come into the Marigold that night.
Eddie Cotton
, of all people. Lane had seen the Doozies a half dozen times in the last two years and was quite familiar with Eddie’s act. He’d assumed he and Marian France were married, in fact. Lane had considered that a shame, given how breathtakingly handsome Eddie was. The man had light brown hair cut very short, which showed off a strong face with large eyes and a wide mouth. Eddie was thin, but he had a dancer’s grace and delicate step. Lane enjoyed watching him move around the room, shoving clothes in drawers and picking up his clutter. It was like watching him dance.
And as Lane had contemplated what would motivate a man like Eddie Cotton to come into a club like the Marigold, he’d noticed the profound sadness in the man’s dark eyes.
Lane wondered what that could be attributed to. Shame? Loneliness?
“Sorry, sorry,” Eddie was saying as he continued to pick up his room. “It’s a mess. I have no excuse.”
“It’s fine. I like it, actually. The room looks lived in.”
Eddie stopped what he was doing and turned to look at Lane. As had happened in the Marigold, Lane felt a jolt when their eyes met. Lust uncoiled in his gut. He wanted this to happen, but Eddie didn’t seem quite ready yet.
Lane looked at the bed, considered the rumpled sheets, and then he looked back at Eddie, who stood there with some scrap of clothing in his hand.
“I don’t know what to do,” Eddie said.
Lane wondered if that wasn’t the first really honest thing he’d said all night. “Do you need me to explain it? I realize your father probably didn’t include much about relations between men when he explained the birds and the bees, but—”
“No, not that.” Eddie tossed the bit of clothing he’d been holding on the floor. “I know how sex works. I mean I don’t usually meet men this way.”
Lane took a step closer to Eddie. He was close enough to touch the other man, but he didn’t. “How do you usually meet men?”
“The sort I want to have sex with?” Eddie asked in a whisper. Lane nodded. Eddie sighed. “I . . . don’t.”
Lane suspected there was something Eddie wasn’t telling him. “Get out. Handsome fella like you? Who works in the theater? I find that hard to believe.”
Eddie grunted. “That’s not really what I meant. I can meet men, obviously. It’s just that it’s . . . difficult for me to just go after . . . and I can’t always tell . . . well, you must know how it is. So sometimes I . . .”
Eddie didn’t continue, but Lane understood what he was saying. “Right,” he said.
Eddie frowned. “So I don’t know what I’m doing here. Not that this situation is wholly unfamiliar, it’s just . . .”
Lane took another step forward. He reached over and ran a hand down the side of Eddie’s face. Eddie flinched but didn’t move away from Lane’s touch. Lane raised an eyebrow. “When was the last time you had sex without paying for it?”
Eddie bristled, but he didn’t put much effort into being offended. He opened his mouth, but then he shrugged. “I don’t know,” he whispered.
“I’m not judging you. It doesn’t bother me. I only wish you would calm down. I’m not here to hurt you or take your money. I just saw you tonight and thought you were handsome and interesting. And I think you saw something of that in me, too. So think of this as just a meeting between two men who have a mutual interest in each other.”
Eddie nodded. Then he laughed nervously. “This is . . . not what I do. But . . . I like you.”
Lane nodded. “I like you, too.”
He moved in for a kiss and was rebuffed again. At the club, he’d assumed it was because Eddie wasn’t comfortable kissing in public, the nature of that “public” notwithstanding, but now, when they were alone, Lane moved to kiss him and Eddie turned his head away so that Lane’s lips collided with his jaw. He was close enough now to smell Eddie, though, and he smelled whiskey and cigarette smoke from the club and something minty, and he also smelled sweat and man. Tentatively, Lane pressed his lips into the stubble on the edge of Eddie’s face and liked the rough texture. Then he kissed and licked and tasted and enjoyed the salty tang of Eddie’s sweat. Well, he thought, if Eddie wouldn’t let him taste his lips, there was plenty of other skin to sample.
Eddie moaned softly and thrust his hips forward. Lane took the opportunity to help him out of his jacket, sliding it off his shoulders and tossing it on the floor. Then Eddie’s hands were on him, pulling at his tie and starting to work on the buttons of his shirt. Lane carefully divested himself of his shoulder holster and slid it into the sleeve of his jacket as he took it off, hoping Eddie wouldn’t notice the gun. He didn’t seem to. They helped each other out of the rest of their clothes until they were down to undergarments. Lane was aware of the man before him, sweaty and hard, and a wave of desire rushed over him, so strong he thought he’d fall over with it. He pulled Eddie toward the bed.
When Eddie stood stubbornly at the edge of the mattress, Lane rolled his eyes and pulled his undershirt off. He lay down on the bed and ran a hand over the dark hair on his chest, hoping to entice Eddie enough that he’d forget about whatever problem was making him hesitate. Eddie’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared—Lane knew he had Eddie’s full attention—but still he stood there. Lane’s gaze traveled south and he saw the way Eddie’s hard cock jutted out against the confines of his white cotton underwear.
Lane sighed. “Come here.”
“How are we . . . I mean, which one of us is the . . . ?”
Lane fought not to roll his eyes again. He didn’t want it to seem like he was making fun of Eddie, but he was getting frustrated. He ran a hand to his own groin and cupped his hard cock in his hand. It didn’t escape his notice that Eddie looked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Lane said. “Come here.”
“But . . .”
“Come. Here.”
Eddie finally relented and crawled onto the bed. Stiffly, he lay down next to Lane. Lane moved to kiss him again, and was again rebuffed, but Eddie offered his neck. He reached over and ran his palm down Lane’s chest. Lane felt Eddie’s breath catch in his throat. Eddie’s cock brushed against his thigh. He shuddered suddenly, his wanting Eddie slowly consuming him. He reached his hands under the stretchy fabric of Eddie’s shirt and pressed his fingers against the smooth skin there. Then he tugged on the shirt and Eddie let him pull it off over his head. Eddie lay back on the bed and slid his fingers into the waistband of his undershorts. He pulled them off in one smooth movement then lay there on the bed, looking open and vulnerable and like he wanted Lane’s approval.
Eddie wasn’t especially hairy, but he did have lovely smooth skin and strong legs and the tight musculature of a dancer. His cock was red and hard and lay against his abdomen. Lane took the opportunity to look over every inch of Eddie and liked what he saw immensely. For his part, his own cock was starting to cry out for release, and he couldn’t think of a time he’d wanted someone so badly.
“Eddie, baby,” he murmured. “I don’t think there has ever been anyone like you.”
Eddie choked on his laughter. He rolled into Lane, who caught him and pulled him into his arms. Lane wasn’t entirely sure what to expect now, but then he felt a mouth against his shoulder. Eddie took tiny nips and bites in a line across his collarbone. He lifted his chin to give Eddie better access and was rewarded with a grunt and a groan and Eddie’s hungry mouth moving across his skin. Then Eddie’s hands slid into Lane’s underwear and grabbed at his ass, his fingers sinking into the flesh there.
“Off,” Eddie grunted.
Lane was happy enough to comply, shucking his skivvies and then lying naked and pressed against Eddie’s long, graceful body. Eddie took a moment to look Lane over and sighed, seemingly content with what he saw. Eddie’s hands were then everywhere, sliding over Lane’s torso, along the line of his hips, and between his legs to cup his balls.
Eddie’s hands and fingers were magic, making Lane’s skin tingle. Lane moved forward and licked along the side of Eddie’s face, and then pulled his earlobe between his teeth and sucked. Eddie moaned. Yeah, that was the spot. He kept his tongue on Eddie’s ear, and slid his hands over all that skin, slick now with sweat. Eddie bucked against him, and Lane found his own hips getting in on the action of their own volition, his cock pressing against Eddie’s hip. Then Lane moved slightly and pulled Eddie on top of him. He opened up his legs and Eddie settled between them. He shifted his hips and
there it was
. Their cocks pressed together, and Lane loved the feeling of that smooth flesh pressed against his own. He groaned and thrust against Eddie, who grunted himself before sinking his teeth into Lane’s shoulder and pumping his hips. Close, far, moving together and it felt so amazing. It was like a shock through Lane’s system, all sensation concentrated where their bodies met, Eddie’s body sliding against his, their cocks sliding together, their balls colliding, their skin pressed on each other.
Eddie’s body started to curl in on itself, his back arching. Lane reached up and pressed his hands into Eddie’s back to keep him near, feeling surrounded by smell and taste and sensation. Eddie kept thrusting, and Lane thrust back, creating a delicious friction, and he felt his release growing and mounting. He was getting closer and closer...
“Fuck,” Eddie grunted. “Fuck,
fuck . . .”
Eddie’s prick seemed to vibrate between them and then Lane felt Eddie’s hot release on his belly and he groaned. Eddie cried out and clawed at Lane, and then Lane tripped and fell right over the edge, digging his nails into Eddie’s back as the climax clobbered him and he let go between them, his release mixing with Eddie’s, hot and sticky, like glue on their skin.
Lane regained the ability to think and noticed that Eddie had collapsed on top of him and was panting. He propped himself up with his hands pressed into the mattress and looked down at Lane, a small smile on his face.
Lane really wanted to kiss those pink lips of Eddie’s. He wanted to taste Eddie, to suck that lower lip between his teeth. He lifted his head and moved to do so, but Eddie turned his head.
“I don’t like kissing,” he said.
Lane sighed and let his head drop back on the pillow. “I noticed.”
“I mean no offense. I just don’t kiss.”
“Swell.”
Eddie coughed and rolled off Lane.
“What does it matter?” Eddie asked. “You got what you wanted.”
Lane wondered if he really did. He felt like he’d only just gotten a small taste of Eddie, hardly the whole entrée. Not that this encounter had not been thoroughly satisfying. “Sure, I got what I came for. But I’ve changed my mind. I want more.”
Eddie pulled the sheet up so it covered his lower half. Lane glanced over and could see the residue of their coupling drying on Eddie’s belly. Eddie said, “More what? I have nothing more to give you.”
Lane didn’t think that was true, but he didn’t argue.
“Unless you want . . .” Eddie gestured toward his backside.
“No, that’s not what I meant. Forget I said anything.” Frustrated, Lane rolled onto his side. “Do you mind if I stay here tonight? I’ll go if you really want, but it’s already pretty late.” That was a neat bit of subterfuge. Lane wasn’t actually much concerned with whatever rougher element came out at this time of night—he could take care of himself. Hell, he
was
the rougher element, as the gun now wedged in the sleeve of his jacket could attest. But he wanted a second chance to break through Eddie’s defenses, to see if maybe there was something more here than a quick rub against each other. Eddie intrigued him as few men ever had.
Eddie sighed. “Yes, you can stay.”
“I’ll be out in the morning, I promise.”
“It’s fine.”
Lane looked over at Eddie, who was frowning. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Everything is copacetic,” said Eddie.
Eddie woke up in the night and found himself drenched in sweat. He was covered by the down comforter but something else was generating heat. Then he remembered: Lane.
Lane was still fast asleep. Eddie looked him over. His mouth was agape and a fringe of dark hair fell over his forehead. Flashes of memory from the night spent together paraded through his mind. He felt himself blushing as he remembered what this man—this breathtakingly handsome, somewhat hairy, and completely masculine man—had done to him in this bed.
And he remembered the look of disappointment on Lane’s face when Eddie had explained about the kissing.
Well
, he thought, getting out of bed.
Nothing gold can stay.
He went to the bathroom. He ran a cold cloth over his sticky skin, and then he washed his face.
What was it about this man? He thought of Lane sitting in the Marigold smoking, how the cigarette had just hung from his fingers. He thought of that mouth, of the places it had traveled on his body. It had been such a long time since he’d had a partner whom he hadn’t sought out and paid, though he supposed there had been times, before he had made it big on Broadway, that he’d been able to meet men with potential. He hadn’t really expected to again, and yet, here was Lane, with his dark good looks and his voice like velvet and his hands and his mouth and everything.
Eddie rinsed the cloth and glanced out the window, where the sun was rising over the tall buildings in the distance. He had rehearsal time booked at the theater first thing in the morning, but part of him wanted to linger in bed with Lane, to see what, if anything, might happen between them. Lane had wanted more, wasn’t that what he’d said the night before? Eddie didn’t have much to give, but he was finding himself feeling strangely optimistic. Maybe it was worth giving it a shot.