glasses. He tried the next cabinet where they stored the plastic cups.
Nothing. The top shelf with the coffee mugs? Nope.
Their house was turning to shit. It wasn"t just the dirty dishes piled in the sink
or the fast-food containers scattered throughout the kitchen and living room. It was
the dozen broken things he didn"t bother to repair. Like the doorknob to the
bathroom that had loosened and finally fallen off, the torn shower curtain hooked
34
Sloan Parker
on by four of the original twelve plastic rings, the shutters on the living room
window that hung at odd angles and covered part of the window after they were
knocked loose during the last storm.
Katie"d be mad at him for all of it.
This was their first home, the fixer-upper they were going to make special,
where they had planned to raise their kids. She deserved better from him. Too bad
he couldn"t deliver.
He wanted to hate the place. He still owed the Shaws $8,572 from the down
payment he and Katie had borrowed. But he couldn"t leave. She was everywhere.
He couldn"t walk away from that. He groped under the sink for the dishwasher
detergent and found three bottles, all empty. He threw the last one into the sink. It
bounced off the stack of dirty plates and whacked him in the forehead, then landed
on the linoleum floor and skidded across the room to wedge under the refrigerator.
“Goddammit.”
Oh well. Getting by was the theme of his life now. He turned on the faucet and
bent to drink directly from it. The hair above his ear brushed the top plate with
caked-on pizza bits and melted cheese. When he had enough water to keep from
dehydrating in his sleep, he turned it off and brushed the side of his head. Crumbs
fell to the plate in the sink.
That was the extent of his cleaning up before bed. He made his way to the
couch in the living room and sprawled out on his stomach. He never slept there. Not
since she died. The night of the funeral he dragged himself into the bedroom. He
would not forget her or their nights together. He forced himself to lie in their bed
where he hugged her pillow and remembered the last time they"d made love—every
detail, every kiss, every breath—until exhaustion finally pulled him under.
But tonight…he couldn"t lie where they"d made love so many times when he"d
been in a bar not an hour earlier craving someone else. Could his life get more
complicated?
He pictured the dark eyes with the haunted look so like his own, the way those
eyes had looked at him, and how the man"s hand felt pressed against his. The blood
rushed to Jay"s cock, and he ground his pelvis against the couch cushion.
Yep. More complicated was definitely possible.
He didn"t want to do anything about the erection. But sex with another man
had always been a kick-starter fantasy. Nothing got him off like that. Katie knew it
and used the information on several occasions when she wanted to rile him up,
telling him stories of what she"d like to watch him do with another guy.
A fantasy. Nothing more.
He"d loved her most in those moments. She hadn"t gotten angry or jealous or
defensive. She never questioned his faithfulness or his loyalty. She played with his
desires and gave him all she could. She accepted all of him.
He eased his hand between himself and the couch. It was her touching him,
her mouth on him.
Breathe
35
But when he came with a grunt, it was a man with dark eyes who licked the
cum from Jay"s hand.
* * *
“God, you sure are a cute one.”
Jay cracked a smile as the woman at the far end of the bar flirted with the
dark-haired man wearing a leather jacket. She had no clue she"d already lost the
game. Not only was Dark Eyes gay, he also looked as lost as he had when Jay first
saw him. No one stood a chance with someone who obviously wanted to be left alone
the way he did.
She kept at it, though. “Come on. Buy me a drink.” She ran her long, pink
fingernails through the hair above his ear. Dark Eyes
Nothing. The top shelf with the coffee mugs? Nope.
Their house was turning to shit. It wasn"t just the dirty dishes piled in the sink
or the fast-food containers scattered throughout the kitchen and living room. It was
the dozen broken things he didn"t bother to repair. Like the doorknob to the
bathroom that had loosened and finally fallen off, the torn shower curtain hooked
34
Sloan Parker
on by four of the original twelve plastic rings, the shutters on the living room
window that hung at odd angles and covered part of the window after they were
knocked loose during the last storm.
Katie"d be mad at him for all of it.
This was their first home, the fixer-upper they were going to make special,
where they had planned to raise their kids. She deserved better from him. Too bad
he couldn"t deliver.
He wanted to hate the place. He still owed the Shaws $8,572 from the down
payment he and Katie had borrowed. But he couldn"t leave. She was everywhere.
He couldn"t walk away from that. He groped under the sink for the dishwasher
detergent and found three bottles, all empty. He threw the last one into the sink. It
bounced off the stack of dirty plates and whacked him in the forehead, then landed
on the linoleum floor and skidded across the room to wedge under the refrigerator.
“Goddammit.”
Oh well. Getting by was the theme of his life now. He turned on the faucet and
bent to drink directly from it. The hair above his ear brushed the top plate with
caked-on pizza bits and melted cheese. When he had enough water to keep from
dehydrating in his sleep, he turned it off and brushed the side of his head. Crumbs
fell to the plate in the sink.
That was the extent of his cleaning up before bed. He made his way to the
couch in the living room and sprawled out on his stomach. He never slept there. Not
since she died. The night of the funeral he dragged himself into the bedroom. He
would not forget her or their nights together. He forced himself to lie in their bed
where he hugged her pillow and remembered the last time they"d made love—every
detail, every kiss, every breath—until exhaustion finally pulled him under.
But tonight…he couldn"t lie where they"d made love so many times when he"d
been in a bar not an hour earlier craving someone else. Could his life get more
complicated?
He pictured the dark eyes with the haunted look so like his own, the way those
eyes had looked at him, and how the man"s hand felt pressed against his. The blood
rushed to Jay"s cock, and he ground his pelvis against the couch cushion.
Yep. More complicated was definitely possible.
He didn"t want to do anything about the erection. But sex with another man
had always been a kick-starter fantasy. Nothing got him off like that. Katie knew it
and used the information on several occasions when she wanted to rile him up,
telling him stories of what she"d like to watch him do with another guy.
A fantasy. Nothing more.
He"d loved her most in those moments. She hadn"t gotten angry or jealous or
defensive. She never questioned his faithfulness or his loyalty. She played with his
desires and gave him all she could. She accepted all of him.
He eased his hand between himself and the couch. It was her touching him,
her mouth on him.
Breathe
35
But when he came with a grunt, it was a man with dark eyes who licked the
cum from Jay"s hand.
* * *
“God, you sure are a cute one.”
Jay cracked a smile as the woman at the far end of the bar flirted with the
dark-haired man wearing a leather jacket. She had no clue she"d already lost the
game. Not only was Dark Eyes gay, he also looked as lost as he had when Jay first
saw him. No one stood a chance with someone who obviously wanted to be left alone
the way he did.
She kept at it, though. “Come on. Buy me a drink.” She ran her long, pink
fingernails through the hair above his ear. Dark Eyes
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