Corazón; Calendar Boys: May, Book 5

Calendar Boys--May: Corazon by Jamie Craig

Amber Quill Press www.amberquill.com

Copyright ©2008 by Jamie Craig

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Calendar Boys--May: Corazon by Jamie Craig

CONTENTS Also By Jamie Craig CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5 CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7 CHAPTER 8 CHAPTER 9 Jamie Craig Amber Quill's Rewards Program ****

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Calendar Boys--May: Corazon by Jamie Craig

CALENDaR BOYS MAY: CORAZÓN By JAMIE CRAIG **** Amber Quill Press, LLC www.amberquill.com

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Calendar Boys--May: Corazon by Jamie Craig

Also By Jamie Craig At The Advent Of Dusk Fortune's Honor Keeping Time A Little Bit Bewitched Calendar Boys, Vol. I: January-March The Master Chronicles Book I: Master Of Obsidian Book II: Unveiled Book III: Mosaic Moon Book IV: Seduction In Black And White Book V: Chaos & Communion Calendar Boys January: Miami's Perfect Weekend 5

Calendar Boys--May: Corazon by Jamie Craig

February: Mine March: Kiss Me April: Out Of The Storm May: Corazón June: Commencement July: Vintage [Back to Table of Contents]

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Calendar Boys--May: Corazon by Jamie Craig

CHAPTER 1 "Is that your phone?" Mason asked as the relentlessly upbeat electronic noise interrupted the movie. Miguel pushed himself off the bed. "Yeah." "Why don't you just let it ring?" Miguel shook his head. "No, I'm expecting a call from Pedra tonight. She emailed me this morning and asked if I would be free to talk." Mason frowned. "We had plans tonight." "We're just watching a movie. It's not that big of a deal. Pause the DVD if you're worried about it." It wasn't about the movie. Mason had seen it a dozen times, anyway—his DVD collection was not what one would call extensive. But it was the principle of the thing. He didn't have family and friends and whoever else calling him when he made plans to spend the evening with Miguel. Mason would have pointed that out, except Miguel was already out of the room. Mason turned down the volume, trying to catch Miguel's side of the conversation. He might be able to gauge just how long Miguel would be on the phone, though it wasn't an exact science. Mason once listened to Miguel talk to his sister about the proper way to cook eggs for nearly two hours. It was even worse when they were in the same room, especially since half their conversations seemed to consist of a secret language of gestures, grunts, and giggles. "Oh ... yeah, I know. Yeah ... is he? How is Anton?" 7

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Mason caught his breath. Anton. Pedra's fiancé always lurked in the back of his mind. Caramel skin, black eyes, full lips, and the best body Mason had ever seen. It was lean, defined, hard with muscle that betrayed the years he had worked in construction as a carpenter. He turned the television up to drown Miguel's voice and leaned against his pillows. Mason was more than capable of admiring a body—male or female—without the admiration developing into a lust-fueled infatuation. But that was not true when it came to Anton. Mason had developed a strong hunger for the reserved man the moment they met. And he had reason to believe Anton felt the same sort of desire for him. It seemed impossible, given that he was engaged to Pedra, he attended Mass every week, and he had probably only said eight words to Mason since Pedra introduced them. But Mason had something better than any dream or any fantasy. He had a memory, and his cock hardened the moment he brought it to the front of his mind. He had used that memory to get off with Miguel more than once. Miguel's voice droned on. It only took a moment of consideration to make up his mind. He tossed the remote aside and rolled off the bed. Seconds later, he had the bathroom door locked behind him, and his shorts down around his ankles. Leaning against the sink, he wrapped his fingers around his shaft and closed his eyes. **** 8

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The Mexican sun beat down upon him, hot enough for Mason to feel the tips of his ears already starting to turn pink under the glare. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck, dampening the collar of his T-shirt, and he bent his head, running his hand over his wet hair and down the tense muscles of his nape in an attempt to not feel so sticky. A shadow fell across the ground in front of him. Feet followed. By the time he glanced up to see who was joining him on the porch, there was an ice-cold bottle of beer thrust into his face, condensation snaking down the dark glass. "You look thirsty." Anton wasn't smiling, but his jet eyes were soft. He waited for Mason to take it before sitting down next to him, his strong thigh brushing lightly against Mason's. "Miguel and Pedra are still discussing the arrangements." Mason took a deep swallow from the bottle. "Yeah. I guess there's some disagreement over the final wishes. It'll probably take them all night to work it out, knowing them." Anton held a second bottle of beer for himself. Mason hadn't even noticed it until he sat down, but now, he couldn't stop staring at the calluses that roughened Anton's fingertips. "What do you do when they start?" Anton asked. Mason dragged his gaze away from Anton and shrugged. "Wait. There's really nothing else I can do. What about you?" "Work." He nodded toward a small shed off to the side of the house. "Señor Cantu lets me use it whenever I wish." "It sounds more productive than what I'm doing." Mason looked up and kept his voice even and friendly. "Can you show me?" 9

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Without a word, Anton stood and began walking, glancing back only once to indicate Mason should follow. In spite of the heat, the man didn't sweat. He glowed. His burnished skin stretched over powerful biceps, even more powerful shoulders, and taunted Mason every step of the short path between the porch and the shed. When he entered, he had to blink more than once to adjust to the change of light. The scent of sawdust hung in the air, and a large workbench consumed the center of the small space. It took several seconds for Mason to see that Anton had circled the bench for something unseen on the other side, and he followed, drawn as much by curiosity as he was the man's magnetism. His eyes widened when he saw the broad headboard. It was unfinished, but its elegant lines already emerged from the dark wood like one of Michelangelo's statues. Intricate cutouts created a starburst pattern that repeated down its length. It only needed to be sanded and polished, Mason thought. Then it would be a masterpiece. "It was supposed to be a Christmas gift." Anton caressed the edge like a lover. "I do not know what Señor Cantu will want me to do with it now." "I don't know either," Mason murmured, more fascinated than ever by Anton's hands. His fingers were so careful, so precise. He felt like he was all thumbs, but Anton knew how to find the shape waiting in the wood. Waiting for him. Without thinking, he reached out and took Anton's hands. He brought them up to chin level, studying the creases in his palms. 10

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He expected Anton to protest. At the least, to pull away. Anton did neither. He stood there, patiently, allowing Mason the time to learn the rough pads, the weathered lines, the blunt nails. "They are ugly," he said. "But, unfortunately, this is all I know." "They're not." Mason held him for a moment longer, enjoying the scent of pine and oak and finishing oil. It went right to his head, and he couldn't help but wonder if Anton smelled like that everywhere. His mouth watered at the thought of finding out, and he forced himself to lower Anton's hands. "Not at all." Before he could pull his own away, Anton grasped Mason's wrists and repeated the gesture. "See?" His broad thumb stroked along the heel of Mason's hand, though Mason couldn't tell if it was deliberate or not. "Yours aren't marked as badly as mine. Pedra would consider Miguel far luckier than her, I'm afraid." Fresh sweat already gathered on his neck and back, but Mason shivered at the contact. At that moment, he considered Pedra the luckiest one of the four of them. If Anton didn't let him go soon, his thin shorts wouldn't be able to hide his erection. "Then I think she needs new priorities." "I don't know." Anton held Mason's hand flat and skimmed his fingertips from the wrist, across the palm, along his fingers and back again, his eyes lifting to weigh heavily upon Mason's. "I think I would prefer your hands, as well." Mason felt hypnotized by the steady, unbroken motion of Anton's fingers. Each brush of contact sent a sharp spark of 11

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electricity from his wrist to his neck. As electrifying as the touch was, though, it was the soft words that tightened his groin. "Where do you want them?" A ghost of a smile curved his full lips. "I don't remember offering a where." Mason blinked. "No, but I just did." "You barely know me." "I know you well enough, I think." Mason paused, glancing from Anton's long fingers to his dark eyes. If Anton would stop touching him, he would stop speaking. "I know how good your hands feel." Anton didn't respond. Stepping forward, he finally released Mason's wrist to lift a hand and brush his callused thumb over his lower lip. "I should not do this," he murmured, though the words were so low, Mason was unsure whether or not Anton meant them for his ears. Mason parted his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the salty-sweet skin. He moaned at the contact, immediately greedy for more, then closed his mouth around the tip. Anton bent his knuckle, sliding his thumb out of Mason's mouth, then straightened it, pushing against Mason's lip. "I know," Mason said, matching his low voice. "But you don't have to stop." "I do," Anton disagreed. "But not yet." His fingers spread, molding over Mason's jaw. He ignored the sweat, the heat, the shivers that ran through Mason. All he seemed to care about was holding him still, each caress of his fingertips small and shattering. Angling his head, Anton 12

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leaned forward, stopping only when their mouths brushed against each other. Mason parted his lips with a soft sigh. Anton didn't take the invitation, though. He kept the kiss almost chaste, but that didn't discourage Mason. Far from it. It made him throb. Anton's breath was warm against his skin, and it smelled sweet, like chocolate. But then Anton's tongue touched his, and Mason melted into the kiss. He couldn't help it; he didn't have the strength to resist it. He found himself unable to move, Anton's other hand coming up to cup the other side of his head as well. Part of him wondered if this was a dream. Had he passed out from heat stroke? If he had, it was the best dream he'd ever had. Definitely the most vivid. He felt every stroke of Anton's tongue as it searched out the deepest corners of Mason's mouth. He smelled the sweat and sawdust that were steeped in Anton's pores. He tasted the beer and chocolate on Anton's lip. Most vivid, though, was the thick, long line of an erection skimming against his stomach. Mason knew Miguel or Pedra could come looking for them, could barge into the shed without warning. But the threat wasn't enough to force Mason to break the kiss. He couldn't get enough of the way Anton tasted, and the kiss progressed and evolved into something overwhelming and hard. Mason moved into Anton's body, grinding against his erection. Anton stopped, pulled back with his hands still cupping Mason's face, and searched his eyes for long seconds. Whatever answer he sought, he must have found because he leaned back in, his mouth wet and succulent where it 13

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captured Mason's again. He made a sound in the back of his throat that resembled a groan, but then it was gone. Just like Anton. "Yes," he murmured. His hardened fingers caressed Mason's jaw one last time before dropping away. "Miguel is the luckier one." Anton took a step back, and another, and another. He was going to leave, and Mason knew he couldn't do anything to stop him. Whatever had happened between them, it was just a moment of weakness for Anton. Or insanity. And now it was over. Even though Mason was still hard, and his lips were still tender from Anton's assault. "I guess this shouldn't happen again," Mason said, hoping Anton would disagree. "You have Miguel." As if that was enough. But I want you. Mason bit back the protest. "Yeah. Well..." He turned to the door, relieved Anton wasn't blocking him at least. "I should get back before he misses me." Anton's mouth pulled into a soft smile. "I would, if I were he." **** Mason bit into the fleshy part at the base of his thumb to stop his shout as he shot into his palm. Occasionally, he gave in to the temptation to fantasize that the meeting turned out differently. But he usually didn't have to alter the memory in any way. He knew if he ever saw Anton again, he would be tempted to do more than just kiss him. How far would Anton be willing to go? 14

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The question was just hypothetical. It wasn't like their paths ever crossed. They didn't even live in the same country. Mason cleaned himself up and emerged from the bathroom just as Miguel was saying good-bye to his sister. He was waiting on the bed by the time Miguel returned. "What did she want to talk about?" Miguel flopped down next to him. When he leaned back against the headboard, the wood creaked, and for a split second, Mason was back in the shed again. "Cinco de Mayo." He reached for the remote control and unpaused the movie. "We're going down to stay with her and Anton for the celebrations." Miguel was expecting an enthusiastic response, but all Mason could muster was a sharp question. "Why?" With a small frown, Miguel glanced at him. "Why not?" "Because it's a hassle to cross the border just for a fiesta. And if you want a good party, there are about a million around here." "But my family isn't. I thought you liked Pedra." "I do like Pedra," Mason said quickly. "You know I think your family is great. When were you thinking of leaving?" Miguel relaxed and threw an arm over Mason's shoulders. "The first. Pedra needs help getting everything organized." His eyes remained fixed on the TV when he added, "This is the first time she has to do it without Mom." Mason bit his lip. What was he supposed to say to that? Screw your dead mother, I don't want to go? He wished he could just tell Miguel the truth. He didn't want to be so close to temptation. He didn't take his relationship lightly, and he 15

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had never cheated on anybody in his life, but deep down inside, he thought Anton would only need to crook his finger, and Mason would follow him. "I'll get the whole week off work." He settled closer to Miguel. "I've got some time saved up." Absently, Miguel ran his fingertips up and down Mason's arm. It was impossible not to note the differences to Anton's. The only calluses Miguel got were from a computer keyboard. "It'll be worth it. You'll see. Everybody will be there." Everybody was Miguel's family and friends. And Anton. But if the house was bursting with people, it would probably be easier to avoid the other man. He kept mostly to himself and to his work. Mason would just be sure to stay where Anton wasn't. Simple as that. "Yeah. I'm sure we'll have a great time." [Back to Table of Contents]

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CHAPTER 2 Despite Mason's hesitance to travel to Mexico for the Cinco de Mayo celebrations, he did quite like the house of Miguel's family. His great-great grandfather had built it the year the railroad came to Puebla, over one hundred and twenty years earlier. As far as Mason could tell, the house hadn't changed much since then. It wasn't an imposing structure, but it seemed bent under the weight of its years and its history. It was also deceptively silent. It looked like a slumbering giant, and Mason knew in just twenty-four hours, it would begin to grow fat with relatives and friends. They'd sleep on the porch and on the floor as they prepared for their fiesta. Mason followed Miguel through the front door, and let his breath out in a sigh when they entered the empty foyer. He knew Anton wouldn't be standing there, waiting to greet them as soon as they arrived, but he couldn't help his twinge of disappointment. He still fully intended to avoid Pedra's fiancé, but that didn't mean he didn't want to see him. Even a glance would be welcome, though Mason hadn't forgotten a single detail. "Is anybody even home?" Mason asked. "Pedra's at work." Miguel headed straight for the staircase, leading the way to the room that always waited for him, whenever he came home. He had lived in San Antonio for eight years, but every time Mason witnessed him in the place of his youth, Miguel took on a new confidence. "We should 17

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have time to get unpacked before she gets in. We're supposed to go out for dinner with her and Anton tonight." "Oh. Good," Mason said, with forced cheer. "It'll give us all time to catch up." Miguel snorted as he pushed open his bedroom door. "What's Anton got to catch up on? 'Built another house today. It's got a door!'" He rolled his eyes. "I like the guy, and he's good to Pedra, but he's dull as dirt." Mason frowned. "He's not. Just because you aren't interested in carpentry doesn't mean he's dull." "Well, it's not like we'd ever get a chance to really know. It takes him all night to say ten words." Dropping his backpack to the floor, he grabbed Mason's wrist and pulled him onto the double bed, the thick blankets already folded down in anticipation of the heat. "Nobody around means we can fool around. I was thinking about this the whole flight here." Mason didn't pull away from Miguel's grasp, but he didn't lean into his boyfriend's body either. "I'd think you'd have more pressing matters to occupy your thoughts." "Nah, thinking of your mouth on my dick was a lot more fun." He rubbed a path up Mason's thigh, finding the edge of his soft shaft with his fingertips, as he leaned in and kissed along Mason's neck. "You suck me, I suck you, we're all perfectly relaxed for dinner tonight." Mason tilted his head back and sighed softly. Miguel didn't mean to, but he had hit upon a pretty good solution to his problem. He didn't want to be sporting wood at dinner, after all. He skimmed his hand down Miguel's chest and let his 18

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fingers linger at his waistband. Miguel shifted, silently encouraging him to move his hand lower. "One after the other, or at the same time?" "I don't see anything wrong with at the same time." He nipped at Mason's ear. "It's easier to play with your ass that way." "Actually..." Mason pulled the buttons on Miguel's pants free and reached into his boxers, his fingers skimming over Miguel's erect shaft. "Now that I think about it, I'd rather be on my knees. Or maybe you could straddle my chest." Miguel pulled back, his thick brows drawing into a line. "I'm not going to fuck you. Can't I just play a little bit?" Mason didn't want to have this fight. He just wanted to get off. "Playing a bit usually leads to asking for more." "I won't ask. I promise." He molded his hand over Mason's covered cock and stretched forward just enough to run his tongue over Mason's lower lip. "It's not my fault you have such a cute ass." Mason parted his lips, letting the light caress turn into a deeper kiss. Miguel was a good kisser. Good enough to make Mason forget they had been on the brink of another argument, at least. "As long as you promise," Mason murmured against his mouth, before pushing him back to the mattress. Feeling Miguel's lean body wriggling beneath his always took him back to when they had first met, a year and a half earlier. It had been the company Christmas party, and Mason had been more than a little drunk. Miguel had crashed into him, and the tray of crackers and crudités had gone flying, 19

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both of them tangled into a heap on the floor. One smile from Miguel, and Mason had been smitten. The mouth that had captivated him from the start was now busy devouring Mason's. Lightly, Miguel grasped his hips, better aligning their bodies. He seemed in no hurry to turn himself around to satisfy his earlier promise. His tongue and teeth were too busy tasting everywhere they could reach. Mason gradually forgot where they were, though Anton's figure was never too far from his mind. The longer Miguel caressed and teased his mouth, the harder Mason got, until all he wanted was to feel Miguel's full lips pulled tight around his shaft. He moved restlessly, sliding his palm up and down Miguel's cock, pausing on each stroke to gather the light precome at the tip. He was so engrossed in Miguel's body, he didn't hear anybody approach until somebody discreetly coughed. His view of the doorway was cleared when Miguel twisted to see who was there. The first sight of Jorge Cantu standing in the frame made both of them scramble, Miguel hastily tucking himself back into his jeans while Mason sat up. Jorge was tolerant of his son's sexuality as long as it wasn't on display for everyone to see. The disapproval in his dark eyes was unmistakable, though. "Your sister said you would be arriving today," he said to Miguel in Spanish. Miguel cast an apologetic glance at Mason. Mason understood every word Jorge said, but that didn't mean the dismissive response didn't sting. 20

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"Come downstairs," Jorge continued. "Anton and Pedra are waiting to see you." "We'll be down in a moment," Miguel answered, still speaking in Spanish. "Good afternoon, Señor Cantu," Mason greeted, straightening his clothes. Jorge ignored him. He turned around and shuffled down the hallway. He had once been a powerful man with shoulders like an ox, but the death of his wife shrunk him to a shadow of his former self. It wasn't until he was out of sight that Mason realized what Jorge had said. Anton was waiting downstairs. His cock twitched a little at the thought. "He's probably going to want me to sleep on the couch or something," Mason observed. "No, he won't go that far." Miguel stood and buttoned his jeans. "But we're going to have to watch the PDA. He tells people who don't know that you're just a friend from my work, so as long as we don't mess with that story, everything will be okay." "Christ, Miguel. So basically as long as there are people in the house, I have to pretend you're not my boyfriend?" "It's just for a few days." He tried to take Mason's wrist, but when Mason stepped beyond his reach, he frowned. "What's the problem? It's not like anybody at work knows, either." "That's work. I go there for eight hours a day, I deal with a bunch of idiots who think their CD-ROM is a cup holder, I come home. But this is different. This is home." 21

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"No, this is my family's home. And when we're here, we're going to respect them, no matter what. If that means you don't grope me at the dinner table, then that's what it means." "This isn't about groping at the dinner table," Mason said, stung. He turned away, so Miguel couldn't see just how much his words hurt. He wasn't sure what bothered him more—that Miguel was so utterly dismissive of his concerns, or that Miguel was implicitly excluding Mason from the family. "Come on. We don't want to keep your family waiting." Miguel blocked the doorway, finally finding a hold on Mason's shoulder. "It's just for this week," he said, his voice lower. "Do you think I'm happy about this? I'm not. And I'll make it up to you when we get back. I promise." Mason forced some of the tension from his body, and tried to smile a little. "I know. Maybe the heat is getting to me. This place needs an air conditioner." Miguel answered with a laugh and a throw of his arm around Mason's neck. He clapped him on the back before stepping back and heading for the stairs. With a sigh, Mason followed. The week that had already felt impossible to face just got a hell of a lot longer. Laughter drifted from the living room long before they reached the bottom, and Miguel's step quickened a little more. Much as he might claim to love San Antonio, he still acted like a little kid at Christmas when it came to coming home. Mason had never been involved with anyone who was so attached to their families. It had been nice at first, knowing that Miguel had that kind of love in him, but 22

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sometimes, it would have been nice not to place an automatic second behind them. Pedra leapt to her feet as soon as they entered the room, but it was the sight of Anton sitting in the corner of the couch that captured Mason's attention. He seemed bigger than he remembered, his T-shirt pulled taut over his hard upper body. A shy smile curved his mouth as he rose to his feet, a smile that reached his eyes as he offered his hand to Mason in greeting. "It's good to see you," Anton said softly. He spoke in English, heavily accented but clear just the same. Mason took Anton's hand casually, though he felt anything but. The warm greeting and his warm skin made Mason forget all about the unpleasantness with Miguel. "It's good to see you, too," Mason replied in Spanish. "How are you?" "Busy." Pedra and Miguel's chattering exploded to a fresh din, drawing a wider smile from Anton as he dropped his hand. "Though not as busy as I think the rest of this week will go." "Miguel hasn't given me any real information. Just how many people did Pedra invite?" "I believe the last count was one-fifty." He turned to stand at Mason's side, both of them watching the Cantu family settle on the couches. "The shed will be a welcome hideaway, I think." "You at least have a hideaway," Mason said under his breath. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do. Especially since I won't know any of these people." 23

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"You know Miguel. Pedra." Anton folded his arms over his chest, a gesture that put their shoulders in light contact. "Me." "Yeah, but Miguel and Pedra are going to be busy, and you're going to be hiding," Mason said lightly. When Anton didn't answer right away, Mason stole a glance at him. Had he ever noticed how long the man's eyelashes were before? No, that was a detail that had escaped his scrutiny. There had been too many other items to fixate on, like the calluses on his fingers and the way his mouth slanted in a kiss. Right now, his strong profile highlighted the sensual set of his lips, his gaze steady as it regarded the others. "Nobody says you can't hide as well," Anton finally said. Mason held himself back from jumping at the suggestion. He didn't want to seem overeager to spend time with Anton, though he absolutely was overeager to spend time with Anton. Especially in the quiet and solitude of his shed, with the heady smell of freshly carved wood, and the sun slicing through the cracks in the walls. "That's true. I promise I'll stay out of your way while you work." "Or perhaps I'll put you to work while you're there." The quick glance downward at Mason's hands did not go unmissed. "Unless Miguel would protest." Mason studied his palms for a moment. "No, I don't think he'll protest." He paused before adding, "Not this week anyway." 24

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"Pedra has missed him. She's been talking about moving to San Antonio, if we can." Mason looked up sharply. "Really? I mean, would you be willing to go through immigration? Sometimes Miguel makes it sound like he wants to stop dealing with the bureaucracy and move back here." "If that's what Pedra wanted." He paused, his eyes thoughtful. "I don't think she'll leave Señor Cantu any time soon, though. He still needs her too much." Mason relaxed slightly. "No, she probably won't want to leave. I think you'd like San Antonio, though." "Maybe," was all Anton said. Any more was impossible as Pedra waved the pair of them over. "Since we have a few hours until dinner, can you go down and pick up those extra chairs and tables?" she asked Anton. She had the same pleading eyes as her brother. Mason figured Anton was probably as helpless against them as he was. "Of course." "You can't manage them all on your own," Jorge said. He looked at Mason, but the quick appraisal of Mason's lean form ended with an obvious dismissal as he turned to his son. "Go and help Anton." Mason weighed his choices, and decided he'd rather spend time with Anton than Miguel's father and sister. "Don't worry about it, Miguel. You can stay up here. I'll help Anton." Miguel frowned. "Are you sure?"

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"I promise not to break him," Anton intervened. Bending down, he brushed a kiss across Pedra's cheek. "We won't be long." Mason pointedly met Miguel's gaze, but didn't approach him. "Yeah, we won't be long." He turned and followed Anton out of the house. Anton walked with long, easy strides and his skin glistened in the sun with a fine sheen of sweat. Mason was already intensely aware of Anton's body, but once they were in the confines of his pick-up truck, it was much worse. "It's not far," Anton said as he reversed away from the house. He rested a hand on the back of Mason's seat as he turned to watch his progress over his shoulder. "Pedra called in every favor she's owed for this fiesta." "She didn't have a party this big last year. What prompted this one?" "Señor Cantu." His hand disappeared as he straightened the truck onto the street, settling on the wheel. "His depression is getting worse. Pedra wants to distract him." "Oh. If a hundred-fifty people can't distract him, I'm not sure what can." They lapsed into silence, Mason stealing glances of Anton every chance he could. Anton was treating him just like he'd treated Mason before—friendly enough in his own distant way. He had been afraid of his own response to Anton, but he was a little disappointed that it all seemed to be one-sided. But maybe that was for the best. Not maybe. It was definitely for the best. [Back to Table of Contents] 26

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CHAPTER 3 Mason didn't have an opinion, apparently. Pedra and Miguel and Jorge argued in rapid Spanish over everything from the food to the decorations to who was invited. Pedra paused several times, just long enough to draw Anton into the debate. He'd offer his opinion—always supporting Pedra— in his quiet, unobtrusive way, and then the rousing row would resume. Miguel never asked Mason's opinion, and nobody else even acknowledged he was in the room. The clock in the hallway sounded ten times, each chime echoing in Mason's skull. The headache that began to form over dinner stung the back of his eyes. He tried to catch Miguel's attention, but the other man was too wrapped up describing a feud he'd had with somebody since grade school, and that was why he and his family couldn't be invited to the house now. With a sigh, Mason pushed himself to his feet and drifted out of the house. The early summer air was hot and dry compared to the cooler temperature of the house. Mason considered settling on the back porch, but the shed was a dark, beckoning shadow, just beyond the house's circle of light. He jumped off the edge of the porch, drawn to the setting of so many of his fantasies. He could go inside, let himself be transported to the last time they had visited Mexico. But it was easier said than done. He reached the door and paused. It wasn't locked, but he hesitated anyway. This was 27

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Anton's sanctuary. It seemed far too presumptive to just barge in. Even if he only intended to stay for a few moments. "It's a little early to try and hide, don't you think?" Anton's soft voice came from the darkness, and Mason whirled around, guilt heating his face like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. There wasn't enough light to see anything but the vague outline of Anton's shoulders. Then something jingled, and Mason saw the keys dangling from Anton's hand. "I wasn't trying to hide. But they didn't need me in there, so I thought I'd look around." A flash of something white. He thought it was Anton's smile. "You've seen the shed before. It's still dusty and crowded." "I wanted to see what's in the shed. What you've been working on." "Nothing like I was." The keys jingled again as he turned sideways. "Miguel noticed you were bored. I offered to take you for a beer. If you want to come." Mason didn't even have to consider the offer. "A beer sounds great. It'll probably be easier for them to continue this argument if we're not in the way." He followed Anton out to his pick-up and wondered how it was he'd managed to find himself in such close quarters yet again with the object of his obsession. Not an obsession, he hastily corrected. Fascination, maybe. Attraction, most definitely. But nothing Anton had said or done since Mason's arrival hinted that he gave their one kiss in the shed any 28

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passing thought at all. That was enough to keep his nerves steady as he slid in next to him. The short drive passed in companionable silence. The streetlights burnished Anton's hands and forearms, catching the dark hair and making it gleam. When he realized he was watching Anton steer just a little too closely, Mason deliberately shifted his attention out the window. His imagination didn't need the added incentive. Anton stopped outside a small cantina, and judging from the state of the parking lot, it didn't see a lot of traffic in the middle of the week. That was fine with Mason. He didn't need to be trapped in the middle of a busy bar while his head throbbed. Plus, Anton might be discouraged from speaking if there was too much chaos around them. And Mason loved to listen to the soft rhythm of Anton's voice, especially when he was comfortably speaking Spanish. Anton indicated Mason should choose a table while he got the beers. He found something in the corner, away from the busier bar. The jukebox in the corner played old rock and country records, and the small building reeked of alcohol and citrus. The scent only intensified as Anton joined him with two Coronas, wedges of lime clinging to the rims. Mason nodded his gratitude, then squeezed the wedge through the neck of the bottle. The beer fuzzed up over his hand, and Mason laughed a little, licking the alcohol from the back of his hand. "I'm liking this idea more by the minute." Anton's soft eyes seemed to see right through him. "You didn't want to come for the fiesta, did you?" 29

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"No, not particularly. Don't get me wrong. I love a good party as much as the next guy. But there are good parties at home, too." "Not because of me, I hope." Mason almost choked on his beer. "Why would you say that?" "I thought..." Anton stopped, toying with the lime wedge. "I behaved badly the last time you visited. I've regretted putting you in such an awkward situation ever since you left." "No. No, you didn't behave badly." It killed Mason that Anton was exactly right, but for entirely the wrong reasons. But given the tenor of Anton's apology, he didn't think the other man wanted to hear just how much Mason longed for another kiss. "I didn't hold it against you or anything." "I kept wondering if you would tell Miguel, if Pedra would then come to me and demand to know if I was still attracted to other men." With a broad thumb, he finally eased the lime inside, bringing the bottle to his lips for a long swallow before it had the chance to bubble over. His mouth glistened when he set it down again. "That would not be a pleasant conversation." "I wouldn't do that. I don't want to upset Miguel, and I would never want to put you in a bad situation like that." Mason worked the corner on the bottle label free with the tips of his fingers. "So she thinks you're completely straight now?" "No, I don't think so. But she does believe that I'll stick to my word. And I promised to honor only her when I asked her to marry me." 30

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Mason nodded, fresh disappointment mingling with relief. Anton was making it easier and more difficult to remember all of his good intentions. "Well, if you were worried before, you don't have to be anymore. What happened between us will stay between us. Everybody has the occasional ... error in judgment." Anton kept his eyes downcast. "Error seems like such a strong word," he mused. "I know that's not how I thought of it for a very long time afterward." Mason took a long swallow of beer, but it didn't help. Did Anton think about the kiss the same way he thought about the kiss? Did he stroke that thick cock of his, remembering the pressure and texture of Mason's mouth? He downed another mouthful, and realized he was going to need a second beer. "How ... how did you think of it?" "Wishfully. Hungrily." He glanced up for a split second, but it was long enough for the desire there to go straight to Mason's cock. "Often." Mason's tongue was thick against the roof of his mouth. All of the blood in his body flowed away from his head. "Me, too." A heavyset woman plodded up to the jukebox, casting Anton into silence again. He sipped his beer, shifting in his seat to stare out over the thin crowd, and gave Mason another excellent view of his profile. "Señor Cantu doesn't know about ... about my past," Anton said when the woman moved away again. "Pedra understands how he is about Miguel. He wouldn't have welcomed me into the family as readily if he knew." 31

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"I know." His racing pulse gradually returned to its regular rhythm. They could do no more than acknowledge this attraction between them. "I could stay with Miguel for the rest of my life, and I'll never be part of the family. It wouldn't bother me so much, if I thought Miguel understood. But I guess he does what he can. And it's good that Pedra doesn't hold it against you." Anton's soft snort would have gone unnoticed if Mason wasn't watching him so closely. "Pedra thinks she's cured me. For as much as she adores her brother, she still thinks of these desires as something to be fixed." "Cured?" The word put a bad taste in Mason's mouth that no amount of beer would wash away. "My parents sent me to a camp once. The pastor there claimed he could cure any queer and save their immortal souls. The cure didn't take in my case." "I've tried to explain it to her, but she doesn't listen. It's not really her forte, in case you haven't noticed." Mason snorted. "Oh, I've noticed. How did you meet her?" That wasn't really the question Mason wanted to ask. Why do you love her? Or maybe, why are you marrying her? "Miguel's never really told me much." "At church. When I moved here four years ago, one of the guys at work suggested his church when I mentioned I needed to find a new one. Pedra's Sunday School class sang that day, and I spent most of the service watching her wrangle the little ones." The corner of his mouth lifted. "Pedra has a good heart, in spite of everything else. She'll be an excellent mother some day." 32

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Miguel was the same way with children. He was always the guy volunteering to baby-sit for their friends, and making funny faces at crying babies in restaurants and on planes. That particular characteristic didn't exactly warm Mason's heart. His feelings on children ranged from extreme indifference to mild indifference. "Yeah, she will. You don't have a date set yet, do you?" Anton shook his head. Picking up his beer, he drained the rest of it away, the muscles in his neck working as he swallowed. The petty part of Mason thought he put himself on display like that on purpose, deliberately opting to torture him. The more reasonable part realized that there was likely not a calculating bone in Anton's entire gorgeous body. "What about you and Miguel? I don't know how the two of you met." "It's not a very interesting story. We met at a company Christmas party. We were both pretty drunk. There was a collision. And then kissing. Miguel asked for my number, and I was so surprised when he actually used it that I couldn't turn down his invitation for dinner." "I'm not surprised. I would have used it, too." Mason wanted to push the table out of the way, crawl onto Anton's lap, and kiss him until he forgot his own name. Instead, he finished his beer. "You wouldn't have even needed to ask for my number." He thought there was a flush creeping up the back of Anton's neck, but the other man rose and faced him before he could be sure. "I'm getting another beer. Would you like one?" 33

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"Yes, thanks." Mason never took his gaze away from Anton as he crossed the room, ordered two more bottles, and pulled a few crumpled bills out of his pocket. Mason thought he should get the next round, if Anton was willing to stick around for a third drink. If they even thought it was a good idea to keep drinking together. Just getting a bit of buzz with Anton might prove to be dangerous. When Anton returned, Mason studied him for a few moments before speaking. "If you don't mind me asking ... when was the last time you were with a guy?" "Besides you?" "Sí." "Four years. Not since I moved to Puebla." "Then why..." Mason paused, wondering when he had become such a masochist. "Why take the risk you took with me?" Lime juice trickled down Anton's thumb, a single drop that he completely ignored as he lifted the bottle to his mouth. He took a long drink, then another, the beer half gone by the time he set it back down. "You took a risk, as well," Anton said. "Anyone could have seen us. I think we both took the risk for the same reason." But Mason immediately understood the risks were different. Losing Miguel over a single kiss would be painful, but Mason could survive it. He had lost boyfriends over less, and he hadn't vowed a lifelong commitment to Miguel.

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"Honestly, I'd be willing to take that risk again." Mason licked his lips. "Not that I'm suggesting we do, or think we should." "No, we shouldn't." His gaze drifted back to the crowd. "But that doesn't mean the wish disappears." "So we'll just ... pretend that the wish isn't there until I go back to San Antonio. That'll be for the best. Right?" "The best. Yes. I think so." A young couple, their hands in each other's back pockets, were the next to descend on the jukebox. While Anton watched them make their selections, Mason watched Anton. Pedra didn't even realize how lucky she had it, he decided. Did Anton consider himself bisexual then? Or gay and settling for the life he thought he wanted? So many questions, not nearly enough beer in him yet to ask them. "Is San Antonio so different?" Anton finally shifted his attention back. "If I was Miguel, and we were there, would you and he be able to be yourselves right now?" "More or less. There are still places it's best for openly gay men to avoid, but it's gotten better over the last decade. And I have friends who tell me it's even better in Austin." Mason leaned forward. "Do you ever get to be yourself, Anton?" "This is myself." But the evasive duck of his eyelashes said otherwise. "But you're going to live the rest of your life pretending you're cured of something that's not an affliction." "No, I'm going to spend the rest of my life with a woman I adore. Not everyone can be as lucky as you are, Mason." 35

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Mason's first impulse was to argue with him, but he understood that even though they were sitting at the table, they were living in two different worlds. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have ... I was out of line." Anton's mouth canted into a sad smile. It panged even more when Mason realized the sadness extended to his dark eyes. "You said what you believe. Nobody should ever be faulted for being honest." "Even if the honesty isn't exactly asked for or prudent?" "We'll just blame the beer." He lifted his bottle in a salute before tipping it to his mouth again. "Though if I drink much more of these, I think I'll be blaming it for more than a few words." "Anton..." Mason rubbed his face. "If you keep saying things like that, I'm going to forget that I'm trying to keep my hands to myself." "You won't," Anton countered. "You're a better man than that." "What makes you say so?" Pushing away his empty bottle, Anton shifted to face him more directly than he had since they'd sat down. "I've seen you with Miguel." The intimate tone of his voice sent another shiver through Mason, and he wished irrationally that Anton would go back to looking at everything but him. "I've watched you set aside your own needs for his. I've listened to the way you two are together. I didn't give you the answer I should have earlier, when you asked why I took the risk with you. I should have told you that I thought the man you are was 36

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worth the risk. And the fact that I didn't just goes to prove why pretending is still best." Mason didn't know how to respond. Long seconds passed, and he still didn't know how to respond. But he did want to be the man Anton thought he was. At that moment, he felt more like the sleazeball ready to cheat on his boyfriend many, many times with a man that, objectively, he barely knew. "I think I like the man you are too much to pretend forever." Anton's broad hand stretched across the table. Every inch it approached drove Mason's temperature up another degree, and his skin itched for the contact. Those callused fingertips he'd fantasized about so often almost touched his bare arm when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The heavyweight woman was coming back to the jukebox. Anton saw it, too, and immediately sat back. His hands disappeared below the table. "It's good for us that five days is less than forever, then." Pushing back his chair, he stood and jerked his head toward the exit. "We should go. If I have anything more to drink, I won't be able to drive you back to the house." "Maybe they've sorted out the all-important guest list by now," Mason said, standing as well. "One more thing, though. Can I still hide in the shed?" "Whenever you want. Consider it yours while you're here." Mason smiled. "Gracias. You're a lifesaver. Or a sanitysaver, at least." Anton briefly returned his smile before leading the way out of the cantina. Being near Anton was difficult, but he thought 37

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they both proved with their discussion that they could be honest about what they wanted and respectful of boundaries. That would make a difference. It had to make a difference. Because, if nothing else, Anton stood to lose too much if Mason couldn't keep himself under control. [Back to Table of Contents]

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CHAPTER 4 Mason was a born and raised Texan. The heat didn't bother him. It was an integral part of his existence. His naturally blond hair was bleached to a stark white, and he was careful to use sunscreen to avoid nasty burns and possible cancer. He loved the sun. He might have been stuck behind a computer during the week, but on the weekends, he liked to be outside. Even in the summer. By the time Pedra let him stop working, Mason never wanted to see the sun again. He had erected tents, strung lights, weeded the garden, cut the grass, and run a plethora of other errands. He decided he hated Cinco de Mayo. He was baked through to his bones. He had been scrupulous about using the lotion, but his skin still felt tight and too hot. The fact that the house didn't have an air conditioner made him want to scream. It seemed like a six-pack and a long, cold bath would be his best bet. He didn't even want to eat. "You know, we could go for a swim," Miguel said, eyeing Mason with obvious sympathy. "Where?" "Our tia, Rosa has a swimming pool and she's visiting her boy in Mexico City. Pedra has the key." Pedra frowned. "I don't know. There's still so much work to do here." "I don't think we're up to more work tonight, Pedra. Let's go have some fun. I bet even Anton would like a nice, cool swim." 39

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Anton looked up. "A swim does sound nice." Pedra's frown turned into a small smile. "Okay. I'll drive." Mason took Miguel's arm before he could follow his sister. "Thank you." Miguel stepped back, casting a look around before looping his arm around Mason's waist. He leaned in and dragged his tongue up Mason's jaw, ending at his ear. "The pool is completely private," he whispered. "We'll find a corner and cool off right. I've missed you." Mason caught a glimpse of the back of Anton's head. "I've missed you, too. It feels like I haven't even seen you since we got here." "Once the fiesta starts, that'll change. Once I get the greeting out of the way, we can sneak off and have our own party for a little bit." He bit at the lobe, hard enough to send a jolt straight to Mason's cock. "Just hang in there." "I will," Mason promised as Miguel released him. After everybody grabbed their suits and towels, they all squeezed into Pedra's car, Mason and Miguel in the back. Miguel kept his hand on Mason's thigh, which actually did very little to keep Mason's attention on his boyfriend. Pedra chattered on as she drove, and Anton listened attentively. Of course he did. He adored her after all. A needle of jealousy prodded his chest. Mason nudged Miguel's hand a little higher on his thigh. Rosa's house was thankfully close, and Mason made sure to keep a hold of Miguel's hand as they waited for Pedra to let them in. Anton leaned against the wall, watching her as she 40

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sorted through her key ring, but every once in a while, Mason caught a flicker of attention in his direction. The house was dark and cool, shuttered away from the blistering heat. Mason contemplated for a moment simply staying inside, but the call of the water was too great. He wanted to wash away the sweat and grime for the day. He wanted Miguel to show him how much he'd missed him. He wanted to not be wondering what Anton was going to look like in his swimsuit, or what Pedra would be doing to Anton when she thought the others weren't looking. He found out exactly what Anton looked like, the moment he stepped out into the back yard. Anton stood facing the pool. He had already stripped out of his shirt, and the dark corded muscles of his back proved he worked at least part of the time without it on. As Mason watched, frozen in his spot, Anton pushed down his baggy shorts to reveal dark blue swimsuit briefs that molded over his perfect ass. He imagined closing the space between them, running his fingers down his spine, following the caress with his mouth. Anton would turn around and kiss him. Not just kiss him. Claim his mouth. The image was so vivid, Mason could taste his mouth again. When Miguel touched his shoulder, he jumped, then smiled sheepishly. "I guess I zoned out there," he murmured, pulling his shirt over his head. Miguel laced their fingers together and pulled him forward. "Let's dunk you in the pool and cool you off then." 41

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He ignored Anton's glance at them as they passed, but Mason didn't. He felt those black eyes on them all the way until they jumped into the water. The shock of the cold water seized his chest, but it was the vision of Anton in the moment before he dived into the pool that completely stole his breath. His muscled body was curved, prepared to slice into the even water, and his trunks stretched across his cock. In that moment before he jumped from the edge, he was the most gorgeous thing Mason had ever seen. He tore his gaze away and grinned at Miguel. "I'll race you to the other end." Miguel answered by twisting his body forward, long arms cutting through the water. Mason blocked out the sounds of Pedra's shrieking laughter by diving below the surface, following his boyfriend's smooth kicks. When he came up for air, he was immediately grabbed and pushed against the pool wall, Miguel's mouth coming down to start attacking his neck. For a moment, Mason's eyes fluttered. He opened them again to see Anton pulling himself out at the side, Pedra treading water at his feet. Anton sat on the edge and leaned back on his hands, smiling down at her as she ran her palms over his knees and along his thighs. He couldn't keep watching. He couldn't look away. His throat tightened to the point of pain, and Pedra's hands just moved higher and higher. The bulge in his shorts was thickening, too. Mason closed his eyes, then gripped the back of Miguel's head, forcing him to meet his mouth. Their tongues and teeth clashed, and he pushed for more and 42

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more, trying to block the image of Pedra touching Anton from his mind. "Let's find that corner," Mason whispered. "Please." Miguel chuckled. "You act like we haven't touched each other in months." "It feels like months, doesn't it?" "Years." Taking Mason's hand, he shifted his weight to float on his back, pulling Mason half on top of him as he kicked toward the shaded far corner. "So let's make this count." "I'll make it count," Mason promised. With his back to the rest of the pool, he couldn't see Anton and Pedra, though he could still hear them. Once Miguel's shoulders hit the walls, Mason kissed all the exposed skin he could reach. "I want to taste you." Miguel's brows shot up. "Here?" "We can go behind that hedge, if you want. They're probably too busy with each other to notice what we're up to." "No, I just..." Miguel shook his head and reached for him again, cupping the back of his neck to pull him flush to his chest again. "You just took me by surprise," he said, his voice lower. "No way am I turning down one of your blowjobs." "That's because you're a smart man," Mason said, grateful Miguel agreed. He stole a glance over his shoulder as things went quiet behind him, and realized his evaluation was correct. Pedra and Anton were far too busy with each other to even remember they were in the same pool—Anton was still on the side of the pool, but now they were kissing, and 43

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Anton's strong, dark fingers glided over Pedra's skin. "Hold on to the edge here." Miguel did as he was told, letting Mason go to grab the pool behind his head. He floated on his back, the outline of his hard cock bobbing above the surface, and caught his breath when Mason leaned in and sucked the tip through the fabric. "Dios mio," he muttered, thrusting upward to push harder against Mason's teeth. Mason slid his arm under Miguel's back, his fingers digging into Miguel's ribs. He pulled the erection free from the trunks, keeping his grip tight around the smooth shaft. As soon as he sucked the tip between his lips, he closed his eyes. It wasn't Miguel's familiar cock pressing against his tongue, it was Anton's. Thick and fully erect and waiting to be swallowed to the root. Callused fingertips caressed his cheek. When Mason tried to lean forward, however, they snapped to his nape, tangling in the hair to force Mason to look up. "Tell me you want it." Sitting on the edge of the pool, Anton stroked his thick cock from base to tip with his free hand, his black eyes gleaming where they caught the reflections from the water. "Tell me this is all you've been thinking about." "I want your cock, Anton. I think about you fucking my mouth all the time. I dream about it." His cock was so close to Mason's lips, he could almost touch him. "I think I'm a little obsessed with it." 44

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"Only a little?" Anton dragged his thumb over the slit, then painted the clear fluid across Mason's mouth. "Is that enough to risk everything we already have?" "Yes." Mason licked the fluid from his bottom lip. It only whet his appetite for more. "Yes. It's worth the risk to me." Anton edged forward until his ass was only half on the edge. His heavy balls dangled between his thighs, the dark hair there tempting Mason even more. Sliding his hand back to the root, he angled his cock downward so it slapped against Mason's cheek. "I've wanted you to swallow me down since that night I kissed you," he said. "Every time Pedra blows me, I pretend it's you." "I would have swallowed you down any time you asked. Anywhere." Anton responded to this declaration by dragging the tip over Mason's mouth. His tongue darted out, but he barely got a taste of the hot skin before Anton pulled the tip from his lips. "Oh, God. Anton. Please." Anton's gaze darted over his shoulder. "What if I told you Miguel was watching?" Mason didn't follow Anton's gaze—he couldn't look away from his cock. "I'd say let him watch. I've been waiting too long for this." The hand at the back of his head guided him forward. "He's not. I wanted to see how badly you wanted me. Go ahead. Take it." Mason moaned as soon as the crown slid against his tongue. His moan only deepened as Anton continued to guide him, and he sunk his mouth lower and lower on his shaft. His 45

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lips stretched around Anton's thick erection, and the top slid across the roof of his mouth. Mason closed his eyes, savoring every second, every inch. Anton kept pressing until Mason's nose was finally pressed against the damp curls, and he inhaled deeply, smelling chlorine and sunshine and Anton's natural musk. He rested his palms against Anton's powerful thighs, bracing against him as shivers rolled through his body. He almost thought he could stay like this indefinitely. Feel the weight of Anton's cock on his tongue. Taste the salt of his skin. Listen to the soft sighs coming from above his head. Anton stroked the back of his neck, the calluses scraping hard enough to bring goose bumps to his arms, even in the water. "I knew you'd be worth it," Anton whispered. "So good..." Mason wanted to prove just how good he was. He wanted Anton to beg him to suck his cock again and again. He began to move, pulling back slowly, letting his tongue linger on every inch of Anton's erection. When he reached the tip, he held it between his lips and teased fresh pre-come from the slit. Anton's soft moan echoed his, and then he was moving, swallowing him again. Anton never lifted the hand from the back of his head. Instead, he brought the other one down as well, shifting their positions so the fingers were laced at the nape, the thumbs caressing Mason's jaw. With this new hold, it was easier for Anton to take control of Mason's movements, forcing him to come back up, go back down, fucking his mouth and throat at a leisurely pace. 46

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Every time Mason looked up through his lashes, Anton was watching him. "Any time?" he asked huskily. He pulled Mason off completely and bent over to lick across his bottom lip. "I think I'm going to have to hold you to that." "Good." Mason sighed against his mouth. Anton sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, and the scrape of his teeth made Mason's cock throb. He was ready to burst. "Because I meant it." Anton guided his head back down, not bothering to tease this time before burying himself in Mason's throat. "Touch yourself," he ordered. "I want to see you come when I do." Mason shuddered and plunged his hand under the water to grip his cock. He jerked himself off in time with Anton's steady thrusts into his throat. His strong fingers flexed against his nape each time he buried himself in Mason's mouth, and Mason couldn't stop his soft moans and whimpers. He moved his hand over Anton's thigh to cup his balls, squeezing them rhythmically. When he felt them tighten, he looked up through his lashes to meet Anton's gaze. "I'm not going to last much longer." Anton groaned again when Mason's thumb slipped to caress the velvety skin behind his sac. "I'm surprised I lasted this long." Miguel's sharp cry cut through Mason's fog, and his cock jerked against his tongue once before warm come flooded his mouth. Mason closed his eyes and sank all the way down, staying there until Miguel stopped writhing. Then he stayed 47

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for a few seconds longer, trying to will away the mental image of Anton's black gaze fixed on his. When he pulled up, a soft splash came from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, and his heart pounded. Anton stood where he had previously been sitting. Pedra was nowhere to be seen, but Anton's attention was locked on Mason. Mason self-consciously wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He wished he could read Anton's thoughts, but his eyes were dark and shuttered. Mason almost felt like he had done something to apologize for. Beside him, Miguel tucked himself back into his trunks, and his arm snaked around Mason's back. Mason turned his attention to him, but he still felt the weight of Anton's gaze. "That was amazing," Miguel murmured, nuzzling into Mason's neck. "If waiting a few days without sex does this to you, what are you going to be like during the fiesta?" "We don't really have to wait until the fiesta, do we?" Mason murmured. "Oh, no, I'm going to suck you off now." With a splash, Miguel dove beneath the water and grabbed Mason's legs, sweeping him up until their positions were reversed. It meant Mason had no choice but to look at Anton now. It meant he couldn't miss the way Anton swallowed. "You don't have..." The protest died on his lips as soon as Miguel pulled Mason's cock out of his shorts. He had jerked off that morning, and twice the night before, and it didn't seem to make a difference. As long as Anton was near him, 48

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he was on edge, his body charged. He needed the relief of something beside his own hand. Anton was still watching him. Mason licked his lips, then mouthed I want you. He didn't know if Anton could tell what he was saying. The other man turned his head, looking up at the house for several seconds. Assessing when Pedra would be returning? Mason wasn't sure. But when Anton returned his attention, he reached down at the same time, reaching into his wet swimsuit and fisting his hard cock. Mason barely had the chance to register what he was seeing before Miguel wrapped his lips around Mason's shaft. Mason jerked, trying to push more of his length into Miguel's mouth. Miguel's mouth felt unbelievable, but he wasn't thinking about his boyfriend at all. His hips moved in response to Anton's fist, not Miguel's mouth. "Oh, God," he breathed. "Oh, my God." Anton's nostrils flared. He quickened the pulls on his length, and Mason wondered what it would feel like to have those rough fingers touching him. It took all his control not to push Miguel off and beg Anton to touch him instead. He wanted to be raw and aching for the man, crying out his name when he shot. When Anton tilted his head back, Mason bit down on his lower lip and pretended it was Anton instead. Pretending. That was what they were supposed to be doing, after all. Mason palmed the back of Miguel's head, forcing him to move faster. Miguel complied without hesitation, letting Mason guide the tempo. The increased friction sent long lines 49

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of fire through his veins. His mind drifted to the conclusion of his fantasy. Anton pulling out of his mouth and coming on his lips and cheek. Mason bit down on his tongue to keep from shouting Anton's name. He slammed forward, pushing the tip of his cock to the back of Miguel's throat. He erupted as the coppery taste of his own blood stained his tongue, his hips jerking with each twitch of his length against Miguel's tongue. Anton tensed, his mouth forming a soundless cry as the muscles in his stomach contracted. Come splashed onto his abs and dripped over the side of his hand, and still, he kept stroking his cock. Mason kept his grip on Miguel's head, silently keeping his attention focused away from the sight behind him. With a final shudder, Anton finally released his length. He glanced once up at the house, then lifted his sticky fingers to his mouth and sucked away the fluid. Mason whimpered, his tongue running over his lips compulsively. He felt Miguel grin, and knew his lover would be incredibly satisfied with himself. That was fine. Miguel could take credit for all of it. Mason just wanted one, single chance to feel Anton's cock. As soon as Anton tucked himself back into his shorts, Mason released Miguel's head. The other man looked up with smiling eyes, and Mason smiled back. "Thanks. That was really ... something." Miguel floated up to cover his body, and it blocked Mason's view of Anton. "Just wait until fiesta," he said before kissing him. 50

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By the time they parted, Anton was gone. Pedra's voice drifted from the house. He'd have to wait three nights and two days until the party, and even then, Mason didn't exactly trust that Miguel would keep his word. How on earth would they sneak away together when there were going to be over one hundred people wanting to talk to Miguel? Mason was convinced his wait would be much longer than what Miguel promised. "Come on. Let's see if your tia has anything to drink." [Back to Table of Contents]

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CHAPTER 5 Mason didn't remember this much fighting when they were there for the funeral, and arguably, the stakes were higher for a funeral than for a Cinco de Mayo celebration. He did not come from a family of fighters—they suppressed. Until they either blew up or had a heart attack. But all of the shouting in casa de Cantu unnerved Mason. They even argued over how much tequila to buy, and what color of lights to hang. It didn't help that Pedra treated him like free labor. She didn't even bother with por favor and gracias. It was a toss-up between who was more excited to hear Anton's truck pull in the drive late in the afternoon. Pedra hurried to the door to see him, but Mason kept working diligently on his task. He heard Anton enter the house, heard Pedra update on him on the house's status—without shouting—and offer him a beer, and then finally Anton slipped out the back door for the shed. Mason followed as soon as he could. They hadn't talked since the incident at the pool, and Mason knew everything could be awkward between them. But it didn't matter. Mason needed to see him, even if Anton would only find new ways to unnerve him. Remembering Anton's earlier invitation, he pushed the shed door open without knocking. He hadn't seen Anton come into the house, but he was pretty sure he'd probably been dressed when he did. Now, he was half naked, his shirt tossed casually over a hook on the wall. He stood on a stepladder in the corner, rummaging 52

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around in a box on a high shelf, and the position displayed every inch of sinewy muscle that corded his back as well as highlighted his lean hips where his loose khakis hung on them. With the fresh sunlight spilling inside, Anton paused and glanced back. A small smile curved his mouth, and he returned to his search. "I almost thought I'd find you in here already," he commented. "Pedra seems a little stressed today." "She is. But I was worried that if I left Miguel in there to deal with her on his own, he'd never forgive me." He pulled the door shut behind him, his groin already getting tight. "So I stuck it out as long as I could." "Well, if she says anything, we'll tell her you're helping me." He held down a planing tool. "Can you put that on the workbench for me, please?" "Sure." Mason let their fingers touch when he took the handle, shamelessly stealing whatever contact he could get. "What are you working on in here?" "I have to fix some of the chairs Pedra borrowed." Anton gestured toward the corner by the door, and for the first time, Mason noticed the stack of wooden chairs sitting there. "A couple have wobbly legs, and I need to reinforce the seat in another." He smiled again. "There's still time to run if you'd rather work inside. It's going to be hot and boring in here." "As long as you're not shouting, I'll take hot and boring." Mason set the tool on the workbench, his gaze sliding over all the other tools it joined. He didn't have a clue what any of 53

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them were, or what they did, or how Anton used them. "What can I do to help?" "What do you know how to do?" Mason swallowed. He wished he could show Anton exactly what he knew how to do. He wished he could show him so completely and so thoroughly that Anton never, ever forgot. "Not much, really. But I'm a quick study, and I'm pretty good with my hands." Anton descended the ladder and folded it back up. Leaning it against the wall and out of the way, he picked up what looked like a screwdriver with an added attachment and nodded at the chairs. "You can be my extra hands today then. Bring me the top one, and we'll tighten the legs." Mason fetched the chair with relief. Physically, he wanted Anton more than he had ever wanted another person. But he liked Anton on another, less shallow level. If he couldn't have everything he wanted, he'd at least be happy with Anton's companionship. "Will you be relieved when all of this Cinco de Mayo stuff is over?" Mason asked, setting the chair upside down on the workbench. Anton's glance was more curious than anything else. "Why would I? It's a lot of work, yes, but it'll be worth it. Don't you think?" "Sure." It was obvious to Mason that he was the only one treading the line between indifferent to and resentful of the fiesta. It was difficult to have a good attitude when his boyfriend treated him just like some guy he knew, and the 54

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object of his desires was engaged to a woman. "I just meant because you have to work all day and then come home to more work." "Well, it's not really my home." Anton bent over the chair, holding one of the legs steady while he worked at the screws holding it in place. "I know I'm welcome, but things have changed a lot since Señora Cantu passed last fall. It almost feels like ... they've closed ranks." There was a slight line between his brows when he glanced up at Mason. "Do you know what I mean?" "I know exactly what you mean." Mason tightened his grip on the chair. "I made the mistake of referring to the house as home when I was talking to Miguel. He was quick to correct me on that misconception." "They don't always bring out the best in each other." "No, they don't. I think it's because they're so close to each other." Anton's head was so close, Mason could touch it. Run his fingers over the damp curls. He noticed something white clinging to a strand, and he couldn't pass up his chance. He plucked the piece of lint from Anton's head, his fingertips lingering for a moment on his hair. He didn't stop, but Anton's hand definitely slowed. "Mason ... you shouldn't." His thick lashes lifted, and his soft gaze slid up Mason's bare arms, flickered across his chest, then settled on his face. "This isn't why I offered the shed as a hideaway for you." It was a gentle reminder, but Mason didn't know exactly who the reminder was for. He held up his fingers with a small, forced smile. "Just a piece of lint. That's all." 55

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But Anton wasn't looking away. "And the other night? At the pool? That was very dangerous for us." "I know. But..." Mason stopped. He didn't have anything else to add. He couldn't offer an explanation, because Anton knew exactly what happened. He couldn't offer an apology, because he wasn't sorry. "Did you ... were you watching the whole time?" Slowly, Anton shook his head. "Only after Pedra had to go make the phone call. I was ... trying not to when she was touching me." Mason longed to tell him exactly why he gave Miguel a blow job right there in the pool. And he wanted Anton to know just what he was thinking about. But that's not why Anton allowed him to stay in the shed—he had said so himself. "I can't ... maybe I should just go back to the house." "You'd rather go back and listen to them bickering than stay out here with me?" Mason grimaced at the thought. "No. I don't want to listen to them bickering." He searched his mind for anything that might resemble a safe topic. "How ... how did you get into carpentry?" It was easier when Anton shifted his attention back to the chair. "My father. His father. His father before that. If you're a Rocha and male, this is what you do." "What if you're a Rocha and you wanted to race cars or something?" 56

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"You dream about it." Setting aside the screwdriver, Anton gripped the leg and tried to wiggle it. It no longer moved. "How did you get into computers?" "My parents bought me my first computer when I was about fourteen. It was another two or three years before my friends and family got theirs, and by then I had already torn mine apart and put it together so many times, I was considered the local expert. I liked being the expert at something, so I stuck with computers in school." Anton stepped out of the way for Mason to swap out the fixed chair for the next broken one. Sweat glistened across his broad chest, but Mason kept his eyes averted, though the temptation to touch him again made his palms itch. "I've been thinking about taking some of the adult education courses at the college," Anton said shyly. "But every time registration comes around, I decide against it." Mason tilted his head, intrigued. "Which courses?" "Maybe a business class. Or a basic computer class." He started work on the second chair, but there was an unmistakable flush to his skin. "Every once in a while, I think it might not be so bad to be in business for myself. Instead of working construction for the rest of my life." "You should totally go into business for yourself." Mason's agreement was swift and enthusiastic. "You do such amazing work, Anton. You're like ... an artist. I mean, I'm sure the work you do on the construction sites is great, but the bed you made last year? I know some people who would pay top dollar for work like that." "Maybe in San Antonio. Not here." 57

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"What about a bigger city? Like Mexico City?" Anton paused. "Pedra would never agree to moving there." "No, I suppose she wouldn't. You should still register for a class. You should do something that's just for you." "I am." He smiled. "I stole Pedra's best worker for myself, didn't I?" A warm flush of pleasure heated Mason's skin from the inside out. "That isn't quite what I had in mind." "Which? Letting me steal you, or that it isn't just for me?" It might have been Mason's imagination, but it looked like there was a slight tremor in Anton's grip. "I'd disagree about both." "Why?" Anton fell silent. Had he heard Mason's question? He must have. They stood close enough, he could smell the musky perspiration that made his skin shine. His voice could cross that distance without fail. "The other night. At the pool. I saw what you said." His Adam's apple bobbed. "Having you here lets me pretend." The part of Mason that hadn't given itself over to this newfound masochism encouraged him to just let the subject drop. But he couldn't. "I thought we agreed to pretend the wish wasn't there at all." "We did. Out there." Anton tested his work before setting down the screwdriver and turning around to lean against the edge of the workbench. "It's easier to pretend the other way when we're in here. Every time I come in here, I think about kissing you." 58

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"I was pretending at the pool. That it was just the two of us." "I know." Unsmiling, Anton lifted a careful hand to trace the line of Mason's damp collar on his T-shirt, his rough fingertip just barely touching his bare skin. "So was I." "Tell me you're tired of pretending, too." Mason swayed forward slightly, trying to encourage more contact. "Or let's pretend a different game right now." "A different game?" His warm breath came with warmer touches. "Like what?" "We'll start small. Maybe we can pretend it's okay to finally kiss you like I've been dying to do since the moment I arrived in Puebla." "That wouldn't be right." Maybe not, but Anton slid his fingers around Mason's neck anyway, the tender caresses enough to make his chest tighten. "We have others." "I know." Emboldened by Anton's light touch, he rested his hand on Anton's hip. He could taste Anton already, the memory of their first kiss in the shed a physical presence between them. "Does ... anybody usually bother you in here?" "Only you. But then you bother my thoughts everywhere I am." If there had been a serious risk of somebody barging in on them, Mason might have released Anton and stepped back. But there wasn't a serious risk, and his body ached. He knew without a doubt that the only thing to relieve this ache would be to finally give in and kiss Anton. "You've consumed mine," Mason murmured, tilting his head. "Completely." 59

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And then their lips were finally touching. Anton felt just like he had remembered. The first brush of contact was like a fist to his chest. He lost his breath, but instead of pulling away to gasp for more, he tried to steal Anton's. He had an inch on Anton in height, but the other man's broader shoulders, his wider hands made Mason feel like he was being surrounded. The feeling was exacerbated when Anton slid his arm around the small of his back, circling him into an embrace that was as overwhelming as it was gentle. Anton never tried to hurry the caress. His lips remained soft and exploratory, barely parted as they learned each other's shape again. But it was the way they quivered, the smallest of oscillations, that betrayed how deeply Anton's desire ran. "I can pretend there is only you when we're in here," Anton breathed in between kisses. "I don't know why." "Just don't stop pretending," Mason pleaded, his tongue nudging Anton's lips. "Not yet." He barely had a chance to finish speaking before the kiss deepened again. Mason didn't have to pretend there was only Anton. As soon as they touched, everything outside the shed's four walls fell away. He knew this would end, that these moments were fleeting and probably wouldn't be captured again. He committed each second to memory—the taste of Anton's mouth, the texture of his lips, the sound of his moans, and the way each moan rolled down Mason's spine, making him shake. Anton's arms tightened, as if he never wanted to let Mason go. His thumb stroked the soft skin below his ear, and his tongue found parts of Mason's mouth he was half convinced 60

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nobody had ever touched before. He kissed like there was nothing he didn't want to know, like Mason was the only other man in the world. Like they didn't have to pretend. Like the pretense was real and the world beyond the shed fake. Each kiss would end only long enough for Mason to catch his breath before the next kiss began, creating a long chain of deep, hungry caresses. Anton's erection nudged against his hip, and Mason couldn't help but remember how perfect Anton's cock had looked in the pool. Acting more on instinct than conscious thought, Mason reached for Anton's cock, palming his length through his pants. Anton pulled back, though he didn't let Mason go. Their eyes met. The heat in the shed crackled. Silently, slowly, Anton loosened his hold on Mason's neck. The strips of skin left bare chilled in the absence of his touch, but Mason couldn't move, couldn't speak to do anything about it. He was transfixed as Anton reached up and touched his mouth. Anton licked his own lips, but he didn't lean forward for another kiss. He glanced down to Mason's hand, then let his own trail downward as well, skimming over his chest to his waistband. "Do I stop?" he whispered. Mason choked. "No. God, no. Not yet." Anton pushed past Mason's shorts, and his fingertips skimmed over Mason's erection. Mason responded by unzipping Anton's pants, forcing his hand into the material, and gripping Anton's cock. "Soon. Not yet." 61

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Anton rested his brow against Mason's. Their breath mingled, sweet and hot, quicker with every inhalation. He moaned when Mason squeezed his shaft, but his touch remained light, long strokes down his length that then reached down to cup the sac. "I couldn't take my eyes off you at the pool. I still think Miguel is the luckiest man I know. I've never known anyone who gives so completely of himself like you do." Mason covered Anton's face and brow with tiny kisses, his lips and tongue sampling as much of Anton's skin as he could. Every time he got near Anton's mouth, the other man would claim his lips, stealing a hard kiss before letting Mason move away again. He never stopped stroking Anton's cock. "I was imagining what it would be like to give myself to you." "Would you?" Anton squeezed Mason's balls, once, then twice before coming back up to curl his fingers around the shaft. "Is that what we pretend now?" He began to pull, matching Mason's rhythm, though his grip was much stronger, his calluses scraping across the sensitive skin. "I would like that. Very much." Mason moved his attention to Anton's neck, nibbling and licking the flushed skin. His hips jerked with Anton's hand, and he knew he was already close to coming. He hated that knowledge. He didn't want this to end too soon. But if he was honest with himself, he never wanted this to end. He wanted to sink to the ground and do whatever Anton asked, whatever Anton needed. 62

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"Say the word, and we won't have to pretend. I'd do anything you asked." For a moment, Anton hesitated. Fear lanced through Mason that he'd said too much. He'd never make it through the rest of the week if Anton turned him away now. One touch, from anyone, and he would shatter. It was poised on his lips to take it back when Anton turned his head. Looked at him. Leaned back in and stole another kiss, sweeping into Mason's trembling mouth to demand a response. Mason thought the heat from the kiss would melt him. He leaned heavily against Anton's body, letting the other man support him as he moved his wrist faster. There were so many other things Mason wanted to say, other things he wanted to offer, but he bit back those words. He didn't want to push too far, and mistakenly push Anton away from him. "I'm so close," Mason moaned. "So give it to me." Anton shuddered within Mason's arms, and his hold became almost painful, each pull at Mason's cock one step nearer to his release. "Anything I ask, you said. I want to feel you come." Mason buried his face in Anton's neck, using his skin to muffle his shout. His balls tightened, his heart crawled into his throat, and his muscles trembled. Chills rolled down his spine despite the heat. With Anton's words still echoing in his ears, he gave him exactly what he asked. His cock jerked and he shot on Anton's hand and in his palm. It felt like once he started, he wouldn't stop. 63

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Anton's powerful arms bolstered Mason from crumpling, his whispered words of encouragement melting into his flesh. It was surreal that this man he'd barely heard speak before this week would now drown him with just his voice, but that's what was happening. Mason squeezed his eyes shut and clung to him. As soon as his orgasm started to ebb, he turned his focus to Anton's cock instead. "Oh..." That was all he said. It was a long exhalation that shuddered as it faded, but the hot strings of come that coated Mason's fingers made it feel like much, much longer. Mason didn't release Anton, even after they both stopped shaking. He was a little scared that if he did, Anton would come to his senses. Would tell Mason this was a horrible mistake, and worse, that Mason needed to stay away from him. So he just kept his eyes closed, and his mouth resting on Anton's neck. Anton nuzzled Mason's cheek before letting go of his cock. He stretched for something behind Mason, and came back with his discarded shirt. Gently, he wiped away the sticky fluid he could reach without separating, ending with Mason's hand. "We need to clean up, corazón," he murmured when Mason didn't move. Mason's chest tightened. Heart. Anton wouldn't call him such a thing if he planned on treating this as a mistake. That knowledge gave Mason the strength to step back, feeling a little shy. "And finish your chairs, too." 64

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Anton didn't even glance at them. He took Mason's wrist and finished cleaning him off, before turning his attention to his softening cock. The contact made Mason hiss; he couldn't believe how sensitive he was, just from a hand job. "I have not asked." Anton's eyes were focused on Mason's lower half, his words careful and measured. "When are you going back to San Antonio?" "We planned to fly back on the morning of the seventh. Early." With Mason clean, Anton turned the shirt to himself, folding it over to find a dry piece to wipe away the come. "It'll probably be awhile before you can come back then, I guess." Mason swallowed, the reality of their situation beginning to sink in. "Yeah, maybe. But it's only a short flight away. It wouldn't be hard to have a few weekend visits." Anton finally looked up at him through his lashes. "But you hate how Señor Cantu treats you when you come." "Yeah. But ... it'll be worth it. If I get the chance to see you." Tossing his shirt aside, Anton tucked his cock back into his pants and did them up. "I'm not sure that's going to be possible," he said softly. "And once Pedra and I are married..." He shook his head. "I can't betray a vow like that." "I know you can't. I wouldn't ask you to break your marriage vows." Mason caught Anton's hand, holding his fingers loosely. When Anton didn't break the contact, Mason tightened his grip. "But ... Anton ... why do you want to get married?" 65

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"I adore Pedra. And I'd like a family." Those were perfectly fine reasons to marry, but the situation still made Mason uncomfortable. They were fine reasons, but were they enough? The more Anton revealed about himself, the more Mason wondered if he was merely settling for the best life he could find, not the life he really wanted. "Okay. But do you think ... do you think you'd be here with me ... here pretending ... if you were entirely happy about getting married?" Anton's eyes narrowed. "You think I'd go this far, do this to Pedra, just because I haven't been with a guy in four years?" "No. That's not what I meant. That's not what I meant at all. I guess I'm wondering why you did go this far." The frown disappeared, and a sad, faraway look came into his black eyes. "I don't know," he admitted. "I swore when I moved here that I'd never be with another guy, but you ... you aren't just another guy, I guess." "If we had met in different circumstances, would you be content with whatever time we could steal together? Would you want to pretend that we're not attracted to each other?" "I can't answer that. These are the circumstances we have. These are the lives we lead. You have Miguel. I have Pedra." Mason wrapped his arm around Anton. "I can answer it. I wouldn't be content with stealing time and pretending. Do you want ... what do you want to do now?" His gaze drifted to Mason's mouth. "To kiss you again," he said. "Though I don't think you mean in this moment." 66

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Mason released Anton's fingers in favor of his cheek. He cupped his face and sought out his lips, kissing him almost delicately. The caress didn't have any of the earlier hunger. This was just about tasting and exploring and putting off the real world for another handful of minutes. "No, I didn't mean this minute," he said, without lifting his head. "I don't know how to answer that question either," Anton murmured against his mouth. "You make it very hard to think when you're this close. I forget ... I forget a lot of things." "Then let me answer for you." Mason kissed the corner of his mouth, then drew his mouth along Anton's jaw line. "I'll come out here tomorrow, and maybe we can pretend again while they're shouting curses at each other." He wasn't sure what he expected Anton to say. But the hushed, "All right," thrilled him to his bones. "You make me wish I had met you five years ago," Anton added. "I think my life would be very different now if that had happened." "Me, too." Mason wanted to ask what had happened five years ago, if that had anything to do with his move to Puebla and his engagement to Pedra. He shifted his weight, his soft cock starting to stir from Anton's warmth, and his already familiar scent. "God, Miguel is going to miss me if I don't get back in there." Anton's arms immediately dropped, though their absence only made Mason want to snatch them back. "You should go then." He turned back to the workbench. "Don't let their arguing get to you. Think of tomorrow, if you must." 67

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"I think I'm going to have to do that." Mason hesitated, wrapped his arm around Anton's waist, and pressed a soft kiss to the nape of his neck. He stepped away before Anton could tell him again to leave. For a moment, he felt like there might be more to say, but he didn't know what. He double-checked his clothes, then turned toward the door. Each step into the late afternoon sun was surprisingly difficult, but he managed to leave the shed without turning around. [Back to Table of Contents]

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CHAPTER 6 Mason waited for the guilt to set in. When Miguel slept with his arm draped over his stomach, Mason stared at the ceiling, expecting to be consumed by the very serious wrong he had committed. But it didn't happen. It didn't even happen the next morning when Miguel felt free to tease and flirt because Señor Cantu was gone to pick up his elderly cousins. The guilt he was waiting for didn't attack him until he found himself in the guest bedroom, a stack of bedding on one side of him, Pedra on the other. She was explaining exactly how they were going to fit everybody in the house— which included sacrificing their beds for the older relatives— and apologizing for making him sleep on the floor, and he didn't hear a word she said. He wanted to study her. He wanted to know her. He wanted to see what Anton saw, so he could understand why they would spend the rest of their lives together. Most of all, Mason wanted to understand the jealousy worming through him, entangling with the guilt until he couldn't think straight. If he only felt raw lust for Anton, he wouldn't be jealous. He'd be gloating, because he could make Anton want him, make Anton pretend that he belonged to Mason. Three days. He was this jealous of Pedra after three days and a hand job. The thought of returning to Puebla with Miguel to attend the wedding hurt his heart. He felt actual pain in his chest. 69

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And then it would only get worse. The birth of their first child. The baptism. The trips to Mexico to visit the baby. If he stayed with Miguel, he would have a front row seat to every single milestone in Anton's relationship with Pedra. Maybe he deserved that sort of punishment. "Do you think Miguel will be okay with that?" Mason blinked. He had no idea what she was referring to. At his obvious confusion, Pedra smiled. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling, aren't I? I just want this fiesta to be perfect, that's all." Mason returned her smile, though it felt thin. "Maybe you're rambling a little bit. Would Miguel be okay with what?" "The two of you sharing a room with me and Anton when everybody's here. I know you only get nights together, but better to share with us than Carlotta and her six kids, right?" Mason personally would rather take his chances with Carlotta and her brood. The thought of being trapped in a small, dark room with Anton made him wish Anton was outside already, waiting for him. "Yeah, that'll be fine. Miguel will probably be drunk enough to pass out wherever he falls." "As long as he doesn't fall on Anton." She laughed. "What do you mean?" Mason asked with as much innocence as he could muster. "Oh, you know." She made some vague gesture before turning back to the stack of bedding. "Though Miguel likes blonds, so I guess Anton's more your type than his, right? So maybe I should be worrying about where you fall, instead." Mason swallowed hard, then forced himself to laugh. If there was one thing he'd learned as a teen, it was how to play 70

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dumb when faced with possible incriminating evidence. "Even if he was my type, I'm hardly his." "Well, no, that's true. Not anymore, at least." "Are you saying Anton used to date guys?" The deliberate way she kept her eyes averted betrayed her sudden wariness. Nothing about Pedra wasn't a flurry. If something made her pause and consider her actions, it meant something. "Would it surprise you if I told you yes?" The answer was easy. Mason wanted to avert attention from himself, and see just where Pedra would take this conversation. "Yeah. I mean, most of the gay guys I know don't end up engaged to women." Her smug little smile brought back Anton's scornful words, about how Pedra thought she'd "cured" him. It also made him itch to wipe it off her face. "Oh, he's not gay. Not anymore. And, frankly, I don't think he ever really was. He just needed to meet the right woman, that's all." "That's not the way it works," Mason snapped before he could stop himself. "I mean ... you don't think that's true for Miguel, do you?" "Miguel? With a woman?" Pedra laughed. "I love my brother to death, but no woman would have him. Only a man would put up with some of the stuff he pulls." Mason knew he should drop it. What did it matter what she thought? Miguel would love her regardless, and Anton had already made up his mind. In fact, he was probably the only 71

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one in the house who would find this attitude totally deplorable. "So ... you think Miguel only dates men because the right woman simply doesn't exist for him?" His tone must have set off an alarm for Pedra, because her eyes widened, her mouth forming a small o that would have been comical under any other circumstances. "Oh, I didn't mean that you two aren't perfect for each other," she hastened to amend. "You're the best thing that's happened to him since he moved away. But he never had the sort of problems Anton did. Anton's much happier now than he was before." The ache in his chest returned. This was Anton much happier? The man who repressed all of his desires was happy? The man who revealed tiny nuggets of personal information with an almost delicate shyness was happy? But maybe she was right. Maybe he had been beyond miserable before. Of course, he didn't seem unhappy when Mason kissed him. He didn't seem unhappy when Mason smiled at him. "I'm sorry for getting a bit snippy. Sometimes I can take things a little personally. I didn't know Anton had ... problems before meeting you." "Oh, sí. In Guadalajara. There was a boy Anton was involved with. Anton won't say so, but I think the boy was a troublemaker. He got into a fight while they were out, and Anton almost died trying to protect him." Sighing, she shook her head. "The boy's family blamed Anton. Said he was the 72

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one who started it all. The only way he could escape having charges pressed was to leave Guadalajara." Mason guessed there was more to that story. Given how far Anton ran, physically and otherwise, he could imagine what that fight was over, and how it must have hurt Anton to be blamed. "That's ... really awful." He didn't care if Pedra could hear how much he hurt for Anton. "I had no idea anything like that happened to him." "Nobody knows. Not Papa, not Miguel, not even Father—" "Pedra." They both jumped at the soft sound of Anton's voice, twisting to see him standing in the doorway. His features were even, but his jaw was locked, the muscles twitching. Pedra paled, but when she stepped toward him, Anton held up a hand to hold her off. "You promised." "I didn't—" "You promised." "I asked her," Mason said before Pedra could respond, drawing the attention of both of them. "I'm sorry. She was only answering my questions. I'm sure she didn't mean anything." Anton's mouth tightened, but the roiling emotions in his eyes didn't falter. They did, however, change. The anger softened into a sadness that wrenched Mason's heart, and his throat clogged as they regarded each other. When Anton turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall without 73

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uttering another word, it felt like he'd taken a part of Mason with him. If Mason could have chased after him, he would have. Pedra's bottom lip quivered for a moment, and then she pulled herself together and turned back to the bedding. "Let's get this finished." "Yeah," Mason agreed softly. His palms and the bottom of his feet itched, but he stayed in the hot room until all the makeshift beds were made on the floor. "Could you..." Mason didn't give her the chance to finish her request. He bolted from the room and hurried down the stairs. He confirmed that Anton's truck was still in the driveway, then went directly to the shed. Fresh dust was in the air, the sound of sandpaper scraping over wood in long, furious strokes making the hair stand up on Mason's nape. The muscles flexed in Anton's arm as he worked at the long piece of wood, and it wasn't until he'd come all the way in that Mason recognized it as a door for some kind of cupboard. "She shouldn't have told you." "I know." Mason approached, though he was careful not to invade Anton's personal space. "But I really don't think she meant ... to do anything hurtful." Anton snorted. "Of course not. She doesn't think." "No, I guess she wasn't thinking. She was too busy patting herself on the back."

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"For what?" When he stopped, Anton gripped the sandpaper more tightly, his eyes flashing as he stared at Mason. "Why were you talking about me at all?" "I don't know. She asked if we'd mind sharing a room with you two tomorrow night. She made an off-hand comment about how I'm not really your type anymore, and I played dumb. That's all. It just started as some dumb joke. I should have changed the subject or something." Anton shook his head and returned to his sanding. For several minutes, the only sound in the shed was the scraping of the wood. "At least now you understand why I'm marrying Pedra," he said, though his voice was nearly lost in his continued strokes. "It's all for the best this way." "She told me that you're much happier now, with her. She told me you just needed the right woman. I didn't know you before, so maybe that's true. But when she said that ... all I could think was that you could stand to be happier." "I had happy. Then I got him killed." "Anton..." Mason reached out and touched the back of his hand. He had never felt so useless, and so out of place. "I'm sorry. I just ... whatever happened, it wasn't your fault. You don't have to pay for it for the rest of your life." The contact made Anton crumble. His hand slipped where he was sanding, but he seemed oblivious to the way it scraped his fingers raw. He sagged to his knees, and a long, ragged exhalation made his entire body shudder. "Pedra's the only person who ever believed me when I said I tried to save Carlos," he said. "Even my family..." 75

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Mason knelt beside him, his arms automatically going around Anton's body. He felt almost fevered, but he was trembling like he was chilled. "I believe you. I don't know how anybody could doubt you." "You don't know me. You don't even know what happened." Mason knew what he needed to know about Anton. "Can you tell me?" Anton squeezed his eyes shut. His thick lashes were damp. "I met Carlos working on a job at the university. He was only eighteen. He'd never even been with a guy before, but he kept watching me work, bringing me water on my breaks." He shook his head. "When his father found out, he accused me of corrupting his son. Called me every name in the book." Mason couldn't resist brushing his lips to Anton's brow. He didn't know how else to comfort him, except through touch. "What happened to Carlos?" "We were out on a date." Anton's voice shook on the last word. "We'd been seeing each other for nearly a year by then. Carlos wanted ... wanted to walk back to his place, and I was just drunk enough to say yes. He had his hand in my back pocket, and he kept leaning into me and kissing me and..." He rubbed the heel of his hand over his bleeding fingers, as if he'd noticed them for the first time. "He was smaller than me. That's the only reason they went for him. They jumped us, pulled us apart, and..." "You don't ... you don't have to tell me any more. It's okay. I'm sorry." Mason swallowed. He would do anything to take the pain from Anton's voice. Anything. Whatever Anton 76

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needed or wanted, Mason would find a way to do it. He took Anton's hand and gently wiped the blood from his fingers. "I'm so sorry." Anton watched the soft caresses, the muscles in his throat working as he swallowed repeatedly. "Now you know why I'm so jealous of Miguel. I see you, and I think ... I remember. What it was like. Before." "You know, I wish I could make everything ... make things right for you. But if you ... I hope you're building a life here that makes things better at least." For the first time since Mason had touched him, Anton lifted his head and met his eyes. "Do you want the truth?" he asked softly. When Mason nodded, he offered a half-smile. "Pretending yesterday was the first time in four years that I thought things were better." Mason cupped the side of Anton's face, his thumb caressing the corner of his mouth. After studying his eyes for a long second, Mason brushed his lips across Anton's. He didn't know just what Anton's declaration made him feel, but he wanted Anton to understand, even if he didn't know how to express it. The kiss was nearly chaste, lips soft, breath warm. Mason didn't press for more, and Anton didn't offer, but somehow, it felt exactly right. When they parted, some of the sadness was banished from Anton's eyes, but he didn't force any more separation between them. He seemed perfectly content for them to be entwined like that, right there on the floor. "This wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I agreed to your suggestion yesterday," he murmured. 77

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"Me neither. And it isn't exactly what I've been fantasizing about all day. But..." Mason touched his brow to Anton's shoulder for a moment. "Thank you for trusting me." The tender brush of Anton's fingers down his arm made him shiver. "You make it very easy to trust you," Anton said. "Though I'm surprised you're being as patient with me as you are. I know I'm a coward." "No." Mason lifted his head. "I would never call you a coward. I don't know what I would have done if anything like that happened to me, and I hope I never find out. But I do know I can't ... I can't judge you a coward for how you responded." "You think I'm a coward for marrying Pedra, though. I know you do, corazón." Mason caught his breath, still not accustomed to the endearment rolling off Anton's tongue. "No. I think you deserve better. I think you deserve somebody who loves you because of who you are, not because you're a ... project." The not-quite-a-smile he'd worn faded. "My chances for that are long gone. I left them behind in Guadalajara." Mason wanted to assure him that wasn't true. But how could he? No matter what he believed in that moment, with the shed walls blocking them from the rest of the world, the moment would end. The vacation would end. "I know why you think that. And I don't blame you for it. But ... let me give you one more chance to pretend otherwise."

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Anton's gaze dropped to Mason's mouth. "Why would you do that? Why would you risk what you and Miguel have for me?" Mason licked his lips. He was beginning to suspect the real answer to Anton's question, but the answer he offered in Spanish was close enough. "Because you are worth the risk to me." His nostrils flared. Mason had only a moment to inhale before Anton leaned forward again, crushing their mouths together. He held the back of Mason's head steady, fingertips digging almost painfully into his scalp, but Mason opened to the desperate kiss, letting Anton take what he needed so badly in that moment. "Tomorrow." When Anton pulled away, his breathing was ragged, his voice even more so. "If I asked you, would you leave the fiesta for me? Let me have you for a few hours. Alone, just the two of us." "Yes." The answer came without hesitation. "Just tell me when to meet you, and I'll go with you. I'll be yours for a few hours." Another kiss, just as hungry as the last. Mason's lower lip felt raw when Anton withdrew, but the caress of Anton's thumb afterward, as tender as any other touch he'd offered him, soothed it away. "One o'clock. Enough guests will have arrived and we can get away without being missed. It gives us the whole afternoon and evening." Mason couldn't believe how excited the promise made him. A few hours. An afternoon and evening. Not forever. Not even 79

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a whole day. But that was fine. Because they would have enough time to do everything properly. If nothing else, they would have enough time to make the sort of memories they'd both need to hold onto later, when more than just a few hundred miles separated them. "One o'clock," Mason repeated. "I'll be ready." [Back to Table of Contents]

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CHAPTER 7 Mason heard Pedra say the final count came to one hundred and seventy six. There wasn't enough room for everybody in the house. There wasn't enough room under the tents in the backyard. There wasn't enough room in the driveway. They covered every square inch of property, then spilled into the street. Pedra was not hosting the only fiesta on the block, and by noon, everybody began to drift and mingle. Mason tried to stay apart, but it was impossible. There was no apart. He also tried to stay away from Anton until their designated meeting time. Every time he got a glimpse of the other man, he felt a spark from the back of his neck to the tip of his fingers. Half the time, he imagined all the things he wanted to do to and for Anton. Fear clutched him the other half. What if Anton changed his mind? What if Miguel intercepted him first, intent on keeping his earlier promise? Of course, there was nowhere for Miguel to take him—there was no quiet corner in a party this size. It didn't matter. Miguel was making it a point to treat him like they were just good friends. Wouldn't want to embarrass the family, after all. At about a quarter to one, Mason set down the beer he had been nursing and began to wind his way through the crowd. Cutting through the house, he went directly to the shed. He stood in the shade of the building, watching the flow of people and listening to the too-loud mariachi band. He tried to be 81

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casual, though every muscle in his body was tense, every nerve ending electrified. Every time someone glanced in his direction, his heart pounded. They knew. The dark, irrational part of his brain was convinced people could read his secret in his skin, and Pedra would be flouncing over any moment to tell him Anton wasn't going anywhere with him. He saw her once, laughing with a couple of older women. He tried not to stare, but he couldn't help but wonder how someone could be so oblivious about the man she professed to love. Something cold touched his elbow, and Mason nearly leapt out of his own skin. He jerked to the side and immediately relaxed when he saw Anton offering him a fresh bottle of icecold beer. "I thought I was the only one trying to hide here," Anton said with a small smile. Mason sipped from the bottle, but it did little to soothe his nerves. Anton looked great. Perfectly calm. Or maybe it just seemed that way because he was ready to jump out of his skin. "I'm a little overwhelmed by all the people. Though most of them think this gringo can't speak Spanish, so I've overheard some interesting conversations." Anton leaned his shoulder against the shed's wall, facing Mason. It blocked off part of the festivities, but the intimate air it suggested could have been completely in his imagination. "Anything worth repeating?" "No. Just general family gossip. There's a large faction that suspects Miguel might be a homosexual." His brow lifted. "Because of you?" 82

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"No, they never mention me." Mason smiled dryly. "I don't think they're on to us." "Señor Cantu has been very vocal about you and Miguel working together." Anton looked over the crowd before settling on a spot near the front porch. When his mouth tightened, Mason followed the line of attention to see Miguel standing with a slim young man, laughing and touching his arm as he listened to whatever tale was being told. "Miguel creates his own drama, I think." Mason watched for a moment, feeling a curious lack of annoyance at the almost intimate scene. He didn't want to dwell too long on what that meant. "I guess it's just who he is. Nothing his father says or does will change that, no matter how much he blusters and shouts." When he looked back at Anton, the other man's thoughtful gaze sent a flutter through Mason's gut. "He won't notice if you walk out to my truck then. It's parked on the corner, out of the way. Unlocked. I'll meet you there soon." Mason sent one last glance Miguel's direction, then nodded. As he walked away, he scanned the crowd, searching for either Pedra or Señor Cantu. He didn't see either of them, and he fought his way to the street without anybody stopping him. He wasn't the only American in the group, but he felt like the only stranger. He made a beeline for Anton's truck, and began to mark the seconds until Anton joined him. His watch said nearly five after the hour before the driver's side door opened. Anton shot him the most brilliant smile he'd 83

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ever witnessed on the man as he climbed in, and the engine roared to life, jumping away from the curb. "Nervous?" "Not anymore. What about you?" "A little." His hand stretched across the distance that separated them to rest on Mason's thigh. "When do we start pretending? Now? Or when we arrive?" Mason slid across the seat, pressing his thigh against Anton's. He leaned into his body and kissed Anton's neck briefly, then sighed against his warm skin. "I'd like to start now, if you don't mind." "I don't," came the soft reply. "I've been looking forward to this since you agreed, corazón. I had nightmares that you decided not to come." "I guess we're even." Another kiss accompanied each word. "Because I couldn't sleep at all. I was nervous about you changing your mind. Where are we going? Your place?" "No, there will be too many celebrations going on there. And people know Pedra." They turned a corner, moving away from the residential part of town. "I went out last night and set something up at the job site I'm working at right now. It'll be deserted, so nobody will hear us. Or see us. We can do and be whatever we wish there." "I'm glad you thought that far ahead. I wouldn't have." He traced the curve of Anton's ear with the tip of his tongue. Now that he could touch and kiss Anton without a hint of fear, he didn't know how he would be able to stop. "And what do you wish to do?" 84

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"Kiss you. Touch you. Hear you say my name when you come." His hand trailed higher, finding Mason's sensitive balls. "I must confess, I jerked off last night in the shower, thinking I'm finally going to know how tight you are. I've fantasized about that since we first met." Mason paused his explorations and sat back slightly. A part of him knew what Anton would probably request, but he hadn't let himself think about that. Anton was bigger than Miguel, too. The thought brought a flurry of nerves. "Well, I can tell you that I'm pretty tight." Anton glanced at him. "Is something wrong?" "I haven't let anybody fuck me in years. Not since my first year at college." "Oh." Anton's hand eased back down toward his knees. "I'm sorry. I thought ... I guess I'm more out of tune with men than I thought." "No, you're not. It's just ... I had a few bad experiences. They scared me away from trying again." "I don't want to do anything that you're not comfortable with. Just tell me what you want. Anything we get to do is good for me." Mason swallowed. "I want to do everything you want to do. I told you that I would be yours for the afternoon, didn't I? As long as you don't mind ... taking it a bit easy on me." "I would never hurt you." The protest was almost too vehement. "Don't ignore your own fears, just because you want to satisfy me. I can get satisfaction without fucking you." 85

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Mason leaned forward again, letting his lips brush against Anton's neck as he spoke. "I think I'd get satisfaction out of letting you fuck me." Anton's shiver was almost imperceptible. Almost. "I won't hurt you," he repeated, more quietly this time. "There's a box of condoms and plenty of lube in the toolkit on the floor. We can take it slow, get you as ready as we need to." For the first time in years, Mason felt a thrill of anticipation at the thought of somebody stretching him, filling him, even pounding into him. Because it wasn't just somebody, it was Anton, and he knew Anton would be careful with him. He had seen far too many examples of Anton's patience to doubt it now. "I like that." Mason skimmed his hand over Anton's erection. "I like it a lot. I also like that it's going to be you ... just you." Anton smiled. They passed the rest of the ride in silence. When he finally came to a stop, it was in front of a halffinished building in the middle of an industrial park. No other cars filled the vast lot, so Anton parked as close to the main entrance as he could get. Mason climbed out, grabbing the toolbox from the floor, and followed Anton past the opening that served as doors for now. The sun cast irregular shadows through the skeletal interior, slicing across the bare concrete. It was probably the least romantic spot Mason could have envisaged, but Anton's assessment about their privacy was right on the money. The sounds of the celebration were a distant music. By the time 86

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Anton entered one of the few rooms with walls, all Mason heard was the thud of his own heart. "Corazón," Anton murmured. The next moment, he wrapped his arms around Mason's back and pulled him into a long kiss. Mason moaned at the contact, opening himself to the kiss. They had been shackled before, trapped in the dark, hot shed, afraid of who was lurking outside. But now those shackles fell from his wrists and ankles, and he lost himself in the caress. The kiss was a little out of control, hard, desperate. He didn't remember dropping the toolkit, but his hands roamed freely over Anton's back, learning its landscape. He felt the powerful bow of his shoulder blades, how they held firm as Anton explored as well. He touched the straight line of his spine, lingering on the individual bones as he wished the shirt wasn't in his way. But while their mouths were hungry, Anton's hands were not. It was more than a little surprising at how almost delicately he skimmed his rough fingertips over Mason's bare arms. When they broke apart for breath, Mason couldn't keep his mouth away from Anton's body. He kissed his jaw and his neck, dragging his shirt up his back. Anton lifted his arms, allowing Mason to pull the material over his head. As soon as his muscled chest was exposed, Mason ran his tongue down the column of Anton's throat, and licked a path to his nipple. "I just ... I want to taste every bit of you," Mason murmured. 87

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"We have hours." He threaded his fingers through Mason's hair, hissing when Mason nibbled at his skin. "We have more than enough time for both of us to taste. Whatever we want." "I know." The pressure of Anton's fingers against his scalp was oddly reassuring. "It feels like I've been dreaming about this for so long." A series of open-mouth kisses brought him up Anton's body to his mouth again. As soon as his lips touched Anton's, he drew Mason into another long, deep kiss. The heat was already stifling behind the partially constructed walls, but laying his hands flat against Anton's muscled back made Mason shiver. Reality surpassed any fantasy he had ever had. He'd never felt this kind of desire for any other person. He strongly suspected that if he did the math, that if he could in some way quantify the desire he'd felt for every person in his life and then added it all up, the need for Anton would still top the list. Through his thin pants, Anton's thick cock throbbed against Mason's stomach. Anton wasn't letting go of his head, holding him firm in order to devour his mouth over and over again. That left Mason no choice but to let his hands explore for the moment, skimming along the waistband to find the fly. He yanked the button free and the zipper open, his fingers seeking out the weight of Anton's shaft. Anton moaned softly as Mason gripped him, and he knew that neither of them would be happy with a mere hand job. Without breaking the kiss, Anton spun to push him against the wall. When Anton broke the kiss, he pulled at Mason's shirt. Mason helped him tug it over his arms, and it fell to the floor. Anton ducked his head, kissing the ridge of Mason's shoulder, 88

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then down to his elbow. Mason gasped, chill after chill rolling down his spine. Every time Anton touched him, he shivered again. Broad hands pinned Mason's shoulders to the wall, but that didn't stop Anton from moving across to Mason's chest. He licked a path around the right nipple, avoiding any direct contact, and when Mason squirmed, trying to force the touch, Anton licked to the other side, doing the same with the left. "I thought we were tasting," he chastised without lifting his head. Mason turned his head, straining to reach Anton's fingers with his mouth. As soon as Mason touched him, Anton traced his lips with the side of his thumb. "I think I meant I wanted to taste you." "And I think I made it clear, I was going to get my share." As if to make his point, he bit into Mason's nipple. Mason moaned, the slight pain sending a jolt to his cock. "Okay. You can have your share. I'll just find a way to keep my mouth occupied." He took Anton's wrist and brought his hand to his lips, wrapping them around Anton's forefinger. He traced the swirls and calluses on his skin with the tip of his tongue, tasting the salt and the warm, heavy air on his skin. He lingered over the top of the finger, licking and sucking the way he would if he had Anton's cock resting against his tongue. Anton groaned. It vibrated through his chest, rolled down his spine, settled in his balls. Mason whimpered when he pulled his hand free, but then his lips were back, his tongue 89

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taking the place of fingers, and they wrapped their arms around each other yet again, as their kisses ignited. Mason held the back of Anton's neck, his fingers kneading the tight muscles at the base of his skull. He wanted more than kisses from Anton, but he wasn't going to be in a hurry to do anything else. All of this had started with a kiss, so it seemed right to linger over Anton's mouth now, to become acquainted with every inch of it, to wind his tongue around Anton's, to feel the vibrations of Anton's moans. But he couldn't linger forever. He tore himself from Anton's mouth and slid down Anton's body, his mouth moving from his neck, to his chest, to his stomach, then the line of his hip. Anton didn't stop him this time as he pushed his pants down and out of his way. He caressed Mason's cheek when Mason gripped the base of his thick cock, and when Mason glanced up, he saw those beautiful black eyes drinking in every movement. Brushing his thumb over Mason's lower lip, Anton slipped it inside for a mere moment, just enough to wet it. He added the moisture to the fluid clinging to the head of his cock, then scooped his hand behind Mason's neck, tangling with the hair to hold him in place. "What would you have done if it had just been us in the pool?" he asked, his voice rough with desire. "This." Mason sighed with satisfaction as soon as he wrapped his lips around the head of Anton's cock. He lapped at the tip, gathering the fluid and drawing a moan from Anton as he tasted his sensitive skin. He lingered there, drawing the 90

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flat of his tongue over the head until he licked away all the traces of Anton's pre-come. A small gasp overhead made him glance up through his lashes. Anton's lips were parted, his eyes closed. Small dots of color had risen in his dark cheeks. That wasn't from the heat. That was from Mason. It encouraged him to hold Anton's length up in order to nibble a path down its underside. The salty skin made his mouth water, made the room spin around him, but he didn't stop when he reached the man's balls. He ran the tip of his tongue around the velvety skin, reveling in the heat that burned through the fragile barrier. Mason pulled Anton's sac into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around Anton's balls, and sucking on them gently. Anton smoothed his fingers over Mason's brow and through his hair, encouraging him with light touches to continue. Mason closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply, noting the texture of his skin and the soft, musky smell of his body. He wanted to do this right, to give Anton as much pleasure as he could, but he hadn't expected how much raw pleasure he would receive from the simple contact. With each swipe of his tongue, Anton breathed a little heavier. By the time Mason pulled back, licking along the throbbing shaft, Anton had tightened his hold, guiding him more determinedly to the dripping tip. Mason wasn't going to argue. He poised it ready at his mouth, looking up for one last assurance. "Is this what you want?" Anton asked softly. 91

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"Yes. God, yes, Anton." He touched his tongue to the gleaming slit, teasing Anton with the contact. "Is this what you want?" "You, corazón. That's what I want." Tugging gently, Anton pulled his head closer, rubbing the smooth crown over Mason's mouth. Mason opened, and then opened a little more when he realized just how big Anton actually was. He was crazy for thinking he could take all of Anton's cock in his ass, not when he hadn't been fucked in eight years. But just thinking about it made his balls tighten, all of his muscles clench in anticipation. It might be crazy, but he wanted it. Because he had little doubt that Anton would make it worth it. Mason's cheeks hollowed as Anton fed him more of his length. He never looked away from Anton's dark eyes, watching the play of hunger and desire in their depths. This was better than what he had imagined in the pool. When he fantasized about doing this, he didn't know the small details— like just what it would feel like to have Anton's head hit the back of his throat with a few inches still left to swallow. He pushed past the gag reflex and slid his mouth down Anton's shaft until his lips were wrapped around the base. The groan that came from Anton's lips made his entire body shudder. He held Mason there, the dark hair tickling the tip of his nose, and flexed his fingers into Mason's scalp. "I ... I can't ... I don't..." His attempts to speak ended in a long, drawn-out sigh that soaked through Mason's skin. When he pulled gently at his hair, Mason took the hint immediately and slid up the shaft. 92

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That was another small detail he hadn't known. That Anton's hand would mold perfectly over his head, like it was made to guide Mason, just like this. And Anton wasn't shy about guiding him. Mason moved at the pace Anton set, lingering where Anton wanted him to linger, building friction when Anton flexed his fingers against Mason's scalp. It wasn't that Mason didn't want to do his own thing—his desires were just evenly matched with Anton's. And he was hungry for Anton's cock. Greedy for it. Anton pulled back, dragging the head across Mason's mouth again. Mason chased him, missing the weight against his tongue. "Not like this." Anton let him go, stepping back and gesturing toward the mattress in the corner. It was the first time Mason had noticed it, and his eyes widened at just how much preparation Anton had really gone to for this. "Lay down. I want to feed it to you." Mason crawled over to the mattress, then settled flat on his back, his feet on the floor. He pushed his hips up and pulled his shorts off, letting them hook around his ankles. Anton stood over him for a moment, nothing but a dark silhouette. Mason wished he could see his face. As if in response to Mason's silent desire, Anton dropped to his knees, straddling Mason's shoulders. Mason opened his mouth automatically, straining for Anton's cock, but he was pinned. "You have the most amazing mouth..." Anton slicked his finger with the pre-come glistening on his cock and painted it over Mason's lips. "I don't think anyone else's even compares." 93

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Mason licked his lips, watering for more. "Let me show you what else it can do." Anton caressed his cheek before sliding his hand beneath Mason's head, the other cupping the other side. He shifted his position, lifting his ass slightly in order to angle his cock downward. It was close enough now for Mason to catch it, dropping his jaw in order for Anton to start stroking into his mouth. He couldn't move his head, but with the hot weight bearing him down into the mattress, he could now coil his arms around Anton's thighs. It helped to encourage Anton to give it all to him, every thick inch that made his lips burn from the stretch. It also let him gaze up at him in adoration, watch the bliss flicker over his handsome face. Anton tilted his head back, his eyes trained on the ceiling. Until his balls brushed against Mason's chin. Then he looked down, meeting Mason's gaze with a strange intensity. It hit Mason right in his stomach, and for a moment, he was distracted from the thick pressure between his lips. He wasn't sure what the expression meant, or if it meant anything at all, but his desire to please Anton doubled. He moaned around Anton's cock, feeling the vibrations echo through his thick shaft. The effect was like shocking Anton. He started to rock his hips, thrusting in and out of Mason's mouth. His hands unsettled, no longer satisfied with holding Mason's head. They brushed over his hair, caressed his hollowed cheek. Knuckles skimmed over his skin, sending an array of goose bumps down Mason's neck. At one point, he gripped the base of his 94

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cock and pulled out, slapping the shaft against his jaw before rubbing the tip over his lips. "If I keep this up, you'll make me come," Anton warned. "And this isn't how I saw coming in you the first time." Mason knew he could happily stay in that position until Anton erupted, but he wanted Anton to have exactly what he wanted. "You'll have to move then, because I don't want to stop tasting you." Anton slid back, his balls dragging along Mason's chest. He missed the weight as soon as it was gone, but when Anton aligned their cocks and reached between their bodies in order to fist them together, the fire arcing through his flesh more than compensated for the loss. "I'd like for you to ride me." Anton stretched out atop him, propping himself up on his knuckles with one hand while the other continued to stroke their shafts. "Once I have you wet and stretched. I think it'll be easier for you that way." Mason imagined being over Anton's body, their mouths clashing as Anton thrust into him. For the first time in years, the thought of getting fucked made his toes and fingers tingle. "How..." Mason licked his lips. "How are you going to get me wet and stretched?" Anton's mouth twitched. A gleam appeared in his eyes. "We're in the wrong position for that." He let go of their cocks and grasped Mason's hip, at the same time hooking his heel behind Mason's leg. In a swift, breathtaking motion, he rolled to the side and onto his back, taking Mason with them. 95

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When their eyes were level again, he was smiling. "Now it's your turn to straddle my mouth." Mason smiled before pressing his lips to Anton's. Each time Anton thrust his tongue into Mason's mouth, his ass clenched. Everything he did, every way he touched Mason, made him want it more. Made him want Anton more. He had the feeling that by the time Anton was ready to fuck him, he would be begging for it. Mason straightened and moved up Anton's body. Anton gripped his hips, settling him over his face. He caught his breath, waiting for the first soft touch of Anton's tongue. But he couldn't brace himself for the reality, and he cried out as Anton drew his tongue from his balls to his clenched ring of muscle. He didn't try to penetrate. Mason wasn't sure what he expected, but it wasn't the almost dainty circles he made around his hole, each one somehow finding new flesh to make quiver. His strong hands spread Mason wide, his thumbs grazing near the opening. He didn't press for more, though. Not yet. If it had been Miguel in the same position, Mason knew he would have attacked with tongue and teeth and fingers and anything else he could get near Mason's ass. Anton was content to take it as slow as he had promised. That only made it all that much better. Every once in a while, Anton nudged his nose against Mason's balls, jostling them just enough to make his cock jump. "Do you ever do this when you sixty-nine?" he asked between soft, wet caresses. "I always loved it like that. Maybe later, we can taste each other that way." 96

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"Oh. God." Mason's back arched, his hand going to his cock. He stroked himself in time with Anton's tongue. It didn't help. It just made him throb more. "There's so much ... so much I want to do with you." "We have all day, corazón." Though Anton continued his thorough attentions, the sudden realization that this was going to be over when the sun went down made Mason's hand falter. He let go of his cock, stretching to skim his fingertips over Anton's brow. The tender touch diverted his attention, and Anton paused, looking up until their eyes met. Mason didn't speak. His throat was too tight for the words to come out. But Anton's face softened, and he turned his head to press a kiss to Mason's inner thigh. "I know. It doesn't seem like enough." It wasn't enough. And every single time he saw Anton after that day, he would be driven to distraction by need and frustration. Which meant there was only real solution. After they went back to San Antonio, he simply couldn't see Anton again. The realization pinched his heart, but Mason didn't see a way around it. "Please ... Anton. I'm ... I'm ready for more." Though Anton never looked away, he reached out to the side and found the discarded toolkit, handling it expertly to extract the lube. The sound of it being opened sent a shiver along Mason's skin, but he couldn't break the spell that was winding around them. "If we had more time, what would you want?" His slick fingers touched at Mason's ass, finding the same path his 97

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tongue just had before two pushed gently inside. "If we're pretending, what more do we wish for?" Mason couldn't answer right away. He had expected pain, but the most he felt was discomfort, and it only lasted for a few seconds. The pleasure was far more intense than anything Mason had imagined. As Anton began to move his hand, Mason found his voice again. "More time? I'd want to blow you until you came in my mouth. I'd want to feel your amazing mouth wrapped around my cock." He swallowed. "I'd want to hold you until you fell asleep. I'd want to cook you my grandma's special biscuits and gravy for breakfast. I'd want to go swimming with you." "Would you show me what to do on your computer?" Anton began mouthing Mason's balls again, sucking for several seconds at the same throbbing tempo of his two fingers. Or was it three? Mason couldn't tell. The full feeling was nothing like he had experienced the last time he'd been fucked. "I imagine us sitting at your desk, your arm around the back of my chair as you put your hand over mine on the mouse. And I would brag to everyone who'd listen about how brilliant my boyfriend was." "I'd be a bad teacher." Mason closed his eyes. "I'd be too distracted by how gorgeous my pupil is. But I'd show you as much as I could." Anton hummed around his balls, and the vibrations made his cock twitch. His whole body twitched. Anton never varied from the slow rhythm, letting Mason adjust and readjust. "I'd want you to show me how to make something. I want to build something." 98

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With his free hand, Anton caught Mason's wrist. He let go of the sac and instead kissed each of his fingers. "Something small. I like your hands like this. I wouldn't want to see them ruined like mine." "I love your hands." Anton thrust into him again, and Mason's mouth fell open. "God, I really love your hands. They're ... they're honest. And careful. I want to see everything you can do with them." "I can do this, too." He twisted his wrist, curving his fingers until he found Mason's prostate. He didn't apply any pressure, only scraped across its surface, but it was enough to electrify all of his nerve endings. Mason clenched his ass, trapping the contact, and his hand shot out to grasp Anton's shoulder. "Tell me you're almost ready." The pleading in Anton's voice shocked him. "I need to be inside you." "I'm ready. I'm so ready for you." Mason barely finished speaking before Anton was pulling away from him. Mason was more than ready. He trembled with anticipation. Anton reached for the box of condoms, and plucked out a foil packet as Mason slid down his body. Despite his previous experiences, he felt like he had never been in this position before. Like Anton could simply replace all those memories that he had harbored for years, nullifying them. Anton tore the condom open, then unrolled it down his length. He had never seen that look on Anton's face. For the first time, it seemed like he was right on the edge of losing his self-control. 99

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Anton trapped the base of his cock between his thumb and forefinger, pushing it straight as he tugged Mason to rest atop him. Chest to chest now, their eyes met as Anton nestled his shaft between his cheeks. He wouldn't press inside, not without Mason's guidance, but the ache in his black eyes reflected the need in both of them. "If we were pretending," Anton murmured, "I would never deny you or what you are to me. Never." Mason looked down, unable to tolerate the passion in Anton's eyes. Afraid of what Anton would see in his own gaze. Mason wanted to beg him to stop pretending, to let them both have what they desperately needed. He wanted to promise Anton that he would do anything for him, anything he asked. The only way he could keep his mouth shut was to rock backward. He felt the blunt end of Anton's cock pressed against his slick opening. With a deep breath, he pushed down, allowing Anton's length to slide into his body. He didn't want to take it in inches. He didn't stop moving until Anton was sheathed in his body. "Oh, yes..." Anton gripped his hips, tremors wracking through his body. He lifted his head and sought out Mason's mouth. His lips trembled as well. Mason sank into the heated kiss, grateful, electrified, ready for more, but he settled for drowning in the swelter of Anton's tongue and teeth. They clung to each other for over a minute before Anton finally began to move, but even then, his strokes were shallow, like the last thing he wanted was to ever leave Mason's body. 100

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"Anton..." He rested his forehead on Anton's, struggling to catch his breath, but he knew it was a fruitless attempt. He wouldn't be able to breathe normally until long after they were finished. Maybe not until he was back in San Antonio. "This is what I want. If we were pretending." They moved so well. They moved until Mason wasn't entirely sure where his body ended and Anton's began. "To always be this close to you." "I think..." His hands tightened, and he drove into Mason's passage a little bit harder, a little bit deeper. "If we were pretending..." Their breath mingled, hot and sweet, and he tilted his head in order to graze another kiss over Mason's mouth. "We would be more than this close. I think I've known that from the very beginning, corazón." Mason couldn't take any more hints and allusions to what they could have had under different circumstances. He pressed his mouth to Anton's, and began to increase the speed of his tempo. Their tongues tangled, and sweat slicked his arms and chest. He shouted into Anton's mouth, finding new angles, new speeds, new sources of pleasure. And that pleasure was only occasionally dampened by thoughts of what he couldn't have. He just wanted to focus on what he did have in that moment. And in that moment, he had all of Anton's attention, all of his energy, all of his passion. As Anton drilled harder into his body, grunts and whimpers and small whispers of forbidden words punctuated each slap of their skin. Mason tried to block them out. It was overwhelming enough being like this, stretched and burned and hungry for every thick inch. But every once in awhile, 101

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something slipped through. The sounds fell on his skin like droplets of hellfire, damning him even further than he already had been. Anton seemed oblivious to the effect. He was too lost in the hot kisses and the hotter drives of their bodies. He clutched at damp skin and dug his fingers into muscles that begged to burn. When Mason clenched around his cock, Anton scratched his rough fingers up his side to find a sensitive nipple and pinch. Both of them jerked at that one. The second time Anton pinched him, Mason made a high, keening sound in the back of his throat. Anton was hard and gentle at the same time, finding just the right spots and moments to be rough. When Mason couldn't take the onslaught against his senses anymore, he reached between their bodies to grip his dripping cock. His balls were tight, and the first touch of his hand made them tighter. But he reached new heights when Anton gently pushed his hand away, replacing Mason's grip with his rough, strong fingers. "Oh ... God ... Anton ... please..." His pleas were lost in a fresh torrent of kisses as Anton stripped his cock. He shouted. Or tried to shout. He screwed his eyes shut and colors exploded in the darkness as his cock jerked in Anton's hand, sending hot splashes of come against their stomachs. He was barely aware of the fervent snap of Anton's hips, or the way his fingers tightened painfully into Mason's body, or the sharp sting of his balls smacking against sweaty skin. What got through to him was the ragged cry from Anton's throat, a single word that could have been his name. He felt 102

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the last powered stroke into his ass, the throbbing of the thick cock even through the rubber as Anton blasted deep inside him. He embraced the clutch of strong arms as Anton finally let go of his shaft to haul him back down and drown him in kisses. Both of them still panted for breath when their mouths parted. Anton was the one to cup the back of Mason's head and keep their brows touching. "I don't want to stop pretending," he said. "I want to walk out of here and have you as my heart, Mason. Because you already have mine." Mason was locked in place, like Anton had unknowingly turned a key to secure his joints in place. Of all the things Mason thought he could hear, it wasn't that. Never that. He wanted to ask if Anton was certain, but Anton would not have said it if he hadn't meant it. But he wanted to marry Pedra. He wanted to have children. They lived in different countries. Everything between them was wrong. It started wrong. "We don't have to stop pretending. I love you." Anton forced Mason to meet his eyes. "But what about Miguel?" "I don't love Miguel. I always thought if I stayed with him long enough, I would. He's the type of guy I should love." "And I am not." Mason smiled a little. "You're the type I never expected to love. You blindsided me." Anton brushed his thumb over Mason's swollen lower lip. "As you did, me. I thought indulging the fantasy today would 103

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be enough for me to try and make sense everything, but I think it's only made it worse." "But, Anton, I'm not ... am I really what you want?" "Because of Pedra?" When Anton shook his head, sadness replaced some of the fire burning behind his eyes. "She's never completely accepted who I am, though that's my fault as much as it is hers. But I think that if your positions were reversed, you wouldn't be quite as ... closed-minded as she has been." Mason felt a little sick at the next question that sprang to mind, but he would rather ask it at that moment instead of letting it haunt their lives. "And what about ... what about a family?" His chest tightened when Anton rolled them to their sides. It meant he lost the join of their bodies, a loss that startled him with its intensity. But then Anton stroked his hip and hooked a leg around Mason's, and it wasn't quite so bad anymore. "What are your feelings about children?" he asked. "We've never really had the chance to talk about it." "Does it matter? It's probably not legal for gay couples to adopt in Mexico, and if you moved to Texas, it'll be a long time before you're naturalized." "But it's not just about that. It's about what's important to us." He paused, clearly weighing his words, though his hand never stopped caressing Mason's skin. "I don't need children of my own, but I've always wanted to ... give something back, if that makes sense. I spent too many years alone." 104

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"I understand." A heaviness settled in his chest. He wanted to lie, say the right things, and let everything work itself later. "But I've never thought about having kids. Ever. I can't just ... decide right now." "I'm not asking you to." With a sigh, Anton rested his head on his arm, prompting Mason to do the same. "There's so much working against us, isn't there? Where we live, what we do for a living. Maybe it's better if we just pretend after all." Mason deflated. It felt like he had waited his whole life to fall in love with the wrong person. His lips were numb. "Do you really think that's better?" "I don't know," Anton confessed. "I think I would rather hold on to the memories we make here, than have them tainted. And if we try to work through everything that's kept us apart to this point, I think it will be." Mason sat up. "Or we could work through everything and succeed. Then we wouldn't have to live on memories." "We don't even know how we are in the real world, corazón." But Anton didn't sit up, too. He remained stretched out on his side, watching Mason through heavy lids. "This, this desire between us ... it's blinding you to the truths. We live in different countries. We work in different circles. We want different things from life. And then there's Pedra." Mason knew plenty of people who moved to Mexico for various reasons. That wasn't even an issue for him. He was fluent in Spanish, educated, and not afraid of hard work. He figured he'd get a job wherever he needed to. But he didn't voice those protests—they didn't matter in the face of the larger issue. 105

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"Because you love her." "Is it so hard to believe that I adore her? She's done more for me than anybody I've ever known. I don't want to hurt her." "And I'm sure with a few more years, she can fix you for real. Then you'll both be very happy together." Anton's swift frown didn't surprise Mason. He'd never made his disgust for Pedra's behavior exactly secret. "You don't know what it was like for me after I left Guadalajara. Nobody believed me. Nobody. I know you don't like her, but you've never seen her at her best. You've only seen her around her father and her brother, and none of them do each other any favors." "Well, I believe you. And I love you for who you are." Mason kept his voice even, though he was beginning to fear for his dignity. Begging, perhaps even tearful begging, probably wasn't going to be far behind. "And I think I should probably go home now." "Now?" Anton finally sat up. Carefully, he rested his hand on Mason's knee. "What about the rest of our afternoon?" Mason moved away and pushed himself to his feet. He knew this was the biggest mistake of his life, but he wasn't sure if the mistake rested in meeting with Anton in the first place, or ending their afternoon there. "I can't stay here and play make believe anymore. I'm not pretending to love you. I want to go home." Back to Texas. He would rent a car if he had to that afternoon. He could be in his own bed by that night. 106

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Anton tracked his movements as he gathered his clothes. He felt his heavy gaze when he yanked up his shorts, and he felt it again when he pulled his shirt on over his head. "I didn't mean to hurt you," Anton said softly. "But I can't hurt her, either." "I've told you before, Anton, that you deserve to be happy. If she makes you happy, or will make you happy, then who I am to argue, right?" And one day, when the rejection didn't make him feel broken, he'd truly mean that. [Back to Table of Contents]

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CHAPTER 8 When Mason was fourteen, he made the mistake of admitting that he liked boys more than girls. His parents immediately sent him to a summer camp designed to cure homosexuals and bring them back to God. Mason had had more sex that summer than any other summer of his young life. During the day, they would be forced into a variety of "treatments," each one designed to inculcate a sense of deep shame and an understanding of just how perverted they were in the eyes of God. At night, after all the lights had gone out in the cabins, things would get a little out of hand. After that, he always wondered if that was the reason sex always felt better when it was more than a little forbidden. Now, he mostly just wondered if he should have let them browbeat him into heterosexuality. He would have been dating a nice girl, or maybe even married. He probably would have married young, to keep him on the straight and narrow. He never would have met Miguel, and he never would have met Miguel's sister or her fiancé. Other nights, his regrets shifted. He regretted he didn't love Miguel. Miguel was a great guy. Miguel was a thoughtful, successful, nice guy. Miguel deserved to be loved. What the fuck was wrong with him that he couldn't love Miguel? What the fuck was wrong with him that Anton couldn't even try to overcome the obstacles? He wasn't worth trying for? But he couldn't give Anton what he wanted. He'd give Anton everything he had, and that wasn't what Anton wanted 108

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or needed. And maybe Anton thought he owed Pedra something? Mason didn't know. He felt like he didn't know anything. Mason hoped if he returned home, he'd get over Anton. But that wasn't how it worked. He gave Miguel enough money to cover his part of the rent for two months and then crashed on a friend's couch. He should have been focused on finding a new place to live, but Cris didn't seem to mind Mason sleeping on her couch, so he didn't bother. He just didn't care that much. He wanted to get over Anton. Pining after a married man for the rest of his life didn't seem wise. Why had Anton called him corazón? Why had he said he wanted to stop pretending? Why had he said that Mason had his heart? Why say any of those things, just to turn around and add that he adores Pedra? Mason could have done without that much pain. Anton never needed to say he wanted anything from Mason. It would have hurt less if he had just dismissed Mason as a good lay. He could live with that. Cris told him he couldn't fall in love with somebody after three days. That was probably true. But apparently eighteen months wasn't enough time either. And the person he was missing every night was Anton, not Miguel. Mason still went to work every day. He even put in extra hours. The chances of running into Miguel were pretty slim, and he needed to do something with his free time besides mope. And if his heart wasn't in it, who would notice? His coworkers were just happy that they had a go-to guy to cover all their shifts, no questions asked. The additional work meant 109

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his e-mail inbox was flooded every day with questions, problems, concerns, complaints, and general ass-hattery. He worked his way through them mechanically, half of his mind elsewhere—on Anton. Which was why he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him when he actually got an e-mail from Anton Rocha. Dear Mason, I hope this e-mail finds you well. Actually, I hope it finds you at all. I'm still learning how to use this, and part of me is afraid that my message will end up being read by someone's grandmother in Brooklyn. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to contact you. I meant to do it sooner, but my letters to you in San Antonio came back, "not at this address." Have you moved? I have to wrap this up. It's taken me half an hour just to type this. I'm never going to learn where all the letters are on this keyboard. I'm taking a class here in Mexico City, so hopefully I won't fail just because I keep confusing my D and my K. Truly, Anton Mason re-read the e-mail several times, trying to figure out what it meant. For a moment, his hopes were raised. Pedra never wanted to live in Mexico City, after all. But maybe Anton put his foot down and insisted on a change. After considering his words for several minutes, he settled on what he thought was an appropriate reply. Hey Anton, 110

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Yes, the e-mail found me. You're going to get the hang of this computer thing in no time. Pretty soon you won't know how you survived so long without e-mail. I moved into a friend's place. I didn't think it was fair to ask Miguel to leave the apartment. It's just supposed to be temporary, so I haven't bothered giving a forwarding address to the post office yet. I guess I probably should. When did you move to M.C.? Mason Though he knew it was silly to wait, he was a little disappointed when there wasn't a response by the end of the workday. But when he came in the next morning, the third message from the top was from Anton. Dear Mason, You have no idea how relieved I am to know I found you. Part of the reason I took this class was so that I would have an alternate way to talk to you. Of course, the other part is your encouragement that I could do it at all. I haven't thanked you yet for that. You need to send me your address so that I can do it right. I've been here for almost a month now. I had to give two weeks notice to my job in Puebla, or I would have been here sooner. It was hard sticking it out, especially since Señor Cantu was so angry about Pedra and me calling off the engagement. But my church was good about helping me relocate, and it feels like I'm finally starting to settle in. So you and Miguel are still apart? I didn't want to give Pedra false hope by calling her to find out. I knew you had 111

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moved out, but I wasn't sure if you'd stay broken up. A lot can happen in two months. I can't e-mail much during the day with my new job. I'm stuck waiting until evenings when I can go to the Internet café around the corner from my apartment. But I'd like very much to keep in touch with you, so if you write back, I promise to answer tonight. Anton Mason could clearly hear Anton's voice in his e-mail. He wrote with the same precision he used when speaking, as though he couldn't bear the thought of choosing the wrong word. His fingers began to tremble when he read that Anton had broken his engagement. He immediately considered booking a flight to Mexico City and pretending that the last two months had never, ever happened. But the last time he had assumed anything, he had been burned badly. And he couldn't quite forget that lesson, no matter how much he wanted to. Anton, Yes, Miguel and I are over. You're right. A lot can change in two months, but there are two things that haven't changed. I don't love Miguel, and he deserves better than that. And I still love you. Why did you call off the engagement? I thought she could give you what you wanted? When I get my own place, you'll be the first to know the address. Which will probably be soon. I think Cris is getting tired of me. Mason 112

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He deliberately stayed late that night. He justified it as work, but the truth was, he needed to know if Anton meant what he had promised. At seven-forty, a new e-mail arrived. Dear Mason, When you left on Cinco de Mayo, I knew things between us were not clear. I didn't know how else to explain them, though. You were hurt, and I was overwhelmed, and, yes, I was scared. So much could go wrong. I could hurt you, and I couldn't stand that thought. What I want is more than the children Pedra might be able to give me. I knew that then, but I knew I couldn't just walk away from her without giving her some kind of explanation. I couldn't do that to anyone I cared about, whether they are man or woman. I wanted the chance to make things better with you, too, but you were already gone. But you showed me that I couldn't confuse gratitude with devotion, and Pedra deserves a man who will love her for everything she has to offer. So I am starting over. A new life. Which is why I wrote you. Not just because I wouldn't have it if you hadn't shown me what I was missing. But because I wondered if it might be possible to have us start over as well. Your e-mail gives me hope we can. Yours, Anton Mason swallowed. Then swallowed again. No matter how much his throat worked, he couldn't force the emotion down. 113

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His fingers flew across the keyboard, and he hoped Anton was waiting for his response. Dear Anton, I wish you had told me some of this before. I left Mexico believing you would marry her and forget about me. This has been the worst two months of my life. I think about you all day. I dream about you every night. At my lowest points, I tortured myself by imagining your wedding. Tell me how you want to start over. Tell me what you want me to do. Love, Mason Every minute that passed had Mason imagining Anton hunched over the keyboard, his callused fingers hesitant as he pecked out his new message. By the time his computer beeped at him, his skin was hot and tight, his heart racing. Corazón, I am so sorry it has been so bad for you. I almost believed that you would forget about me, or hate me, or anything else but what you actually went through. If I could do it all over again ... but I can't. I can only promise to make it up to you. I would like very much to take you out on a real date. Somehow. I have my weekends free. Is it possible for you to come to Mexico City? Yours, Anton Mason didn't have to think twice about his response. Anton, 114

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I'll fly down this weekend. Friday night, if I can get a reservation on such short notice. Love, Mason [Back to Table of Contents]

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CHAPTER 9 Mason's nerves wouldn't let him sleep. He didn't eat much either. Cris was horrified, convinced Mason was getting worse, and he didn't bother to tell her the truth. He didn't want to tell anybody about his e-mails with Anton, or their plans, for fear of jinxing himself. He wasn't worried about his reaction seeing Anton again. He didn't think his feelings had faded. But it was so easy to worry about Anton's reaction to him. What if Anton spent an evening with him and realized all he felt for Mason was lust and maybe infatuation? Mason didn't covet a second rejection. When the doubts became too much to tolerate, he reminded himself that Anton had sought him out. Had gone to the trouble to learn how to use the computer, to find his email, to pay for time at an Internet café, and to invite him to Mexico for a date. He wouldn't summon Mason to him just to change his mind. They both had had two months to consider everything that happened between them—and everything that didn't. Reasonable. Infinitely logical. It didn't help him sleep at night. But it did get him on the plane. And once he landed in Mexico City, it got him to his hotel room, where he showered and changed. A flurry of butterflies had settled in his midsection, and Mason thought it would be a miracle if he managed to eat anything on their date. Anton had given him the location, address, and time of their date. He managed to get himself to the restaurant without puking. He honestly 116

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couldn't remember the last time he had been this out of sorts over anybody. He showed up fifteen minutes early, and lingered outside the front door. Partially to confirm that he had dressed appropriately. Partially to give himself time to gather his courage. Partially so he wouldn't look completely desperate. He was dressed appropriately, he did have the courage, and he was completely desperate. Thus fortified, he entered the busy restaurant, his gaze immediately seeking Anton. The spicy scents made his stomach rumble, but Mason was oblivious to it as he saw Anton rise from a seat near the hostess. This wasn't a man he recognized. The Anton he knew dressed in T-shirts and jeans, except when he stripped out of his shirt to work. The man standing nervously in front of him wore crisp black slacks and a soft pale yellow shirt, the collar open to display the small cross he always wore around his neck. A shy smile curved his mouth. He could have been anyone. Except the fear haunting his black eyes proved he was just as anxious as Mason about this entire night. When Mason didn't move from his spot, Anton stepped forward. His hand touched Mason's shoulder. In the next breath, he had his arm around Mason's back, his mouth at Mason's ear. "Thank you for coming," he murmured. As soon as Anton touched him, Mason knew he'd go anywhere Anton asked. Mexico City was nothing. He'd travel to the middle of Siberia, if Anton requested it. He returned the embrace, taking just a moment to reacquaint himself with the feel of Anton's body. 117

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"Thank you for inviting me." Anton pulled away, leading him back to the hostess. "Our table is ready." He smiled at the voluptuous older woman. "Conchata is tired of watching me fidget." Conchata led them to a corner table with a small candle flickering in the center. Mason focused on Anton to the exclusion of all else, marveling that he was even there. Once they were seated, he realized that he was hopelessly tonguetied. If he wanted to make a positive impression on Anton, he needed to pull it together. "Have you ... have you eaten here before?" The question wouldn't win any prizes, but Mason just wanted to prove he could still talk. "Would you recommend anything?" "Just once, but it was for lunch." He gestured toward the kitchen. "The head chef has a brother on my crew. Diego brought us down to show him off." His smile was more than a little embarrassed. "So, no, I have no idea what else is good. Except everything. I just wanted it to be someplace nice for you." Mason smiled, the butterflies finally beginning to dissipate. "Thank you. Everything seems very nice. But you know ... I would have been happy anywhere you invited me." "You say that now." Anton opened his menu and scanned over the entrees. When he spoke again, there was a definite twinkle in his eye. "You haven't seen where I've been grabbing my lunches." Mason couldn't concentrate on the menu. He set it aside, resolving to order whatever Anton did. "Has it been ... hard here? Starting over?" 118

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Those thick lashes that had tormented his dreams remained lowered. "Yes," Anton said softly. "I had forgotten what it's like to be so ... lonely." "I know what you mean," Mason admitted. "Though, I guess it wasn't quite the same for me. I have Cris, after all. You didn't find anybody new to keep you company?" Anton lifted a shoulder. "That wasn't why I left. Until my class started last week, I worked extra shifts to fill the hours. I found a good church, though. That's helped. As much as it can." He finally closed the menu and set it aside. Glancing around, he took a deep breath and stretched his hand, letting it come to rest on Mason's. "I've missed you." Mason stared at the point of contact between the two of them. He couldn't look away from the darker tone of Anton's skin against his. He willed Anton not to pull away from him. He knew what that simple touch meant to Anton. What it meant to him. More of the butterflies disappeared. "I've missed you, too. I wish ... I wish I had left a forwarding address so I could have received your letter. I thought I'd never get the chance to even talk to you again." "We have all night to talk." When the waitress approached, he squeezed Mason's hand one more time before letting go. "After we eat." Mason didn't hear Anton order, except to say he'd have the same when the waitress turned to him. He could only stare at the other man's fluid movements, how graceful he seemed even in a milieu like this. Mason could only remember one other time Anton had looked this at ease. He was nervous about the date, yes, but the ease came from something else. 119

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It was a sense of self-awareness. This was the man he had always known Anton to be. "Where are you staying?" Anton asked after the waitress had left. Mason named the hotel, and smiled self-consciously. "I hope you won't ask if it's a nice room. I don't really remember anything about it. I was too wrapped up in worrying about tonight." "When do you have to go back to San Antonio?" "Late Sunday night. I'll be dead on my feet at work on Monday, but it's not like I operate heavy machinery." "So two days then." His soft voice shot straight through Mason. "It felt like it took forever for tonight to happen, and now it feels like the whole weekend is going to be over before it really gets started." Mason almost volunteered to move—to convert all his money to pesos and live out of the suitcase he'd brought with him. But he thought maybe they should get through the date before he actually went that far. "We'll just have to make every second count while I'm here. And, hopefully, you won't get tired of me before I go." "Have you been to Mexico City before?" Though Anton didn't utter the words, Mason heard the second half of the question as clearly as if he had. Did Miguel bring you here? But Anton's smile remained unwavering, and his hand came across the table once again to caress the back of Mason's. "I haven't made specific plans beyond tonight, so if there's something you'd like to do, just tell me." 120

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"I haven't visited Mexico City in years. I lived here for a few quarters in college because I was studying Spanish. It'd be fun to explore the city again." "That explains why your Spanish is so good." "Yeah. I only took the first class because I thought the instructor was hot. Then I realized I really liked the language and the culture. So I just kept taking classes until I almost had enough credits for a double-major." Anton slipped his thumb beneath Mason's hand. The first touch across his palm was tender, gentle, but the soothing contact did more than help Mason relax. It reminded him just how much he genuinely liked being in Anton's company, regardless of their obvious attraction. As tempting as it was to crawl across the table and smother Anton in kisses, dinner would be just as rewarding in the end. "So if I wanted to improve my English, does that mean I should just look for a hot teacher?" Anton teased. "If my experience is anything to go by, it'll help your concentration. The downside, of course, is that your hot teacher will be too busy speaking to do other things with his mouth." "My boyfriend would probably prefer him to be too busy, too." The corner of Mason's mouth lifted. "Hey. Do you have a boyfriend I don't know about?" "I guess that depends on whether or not I blow this weekend." Mason didn't know if he looked more thrilled or relieved, but he was sure his face reflected the warmth flooding 121

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through him. "I think you would have to do something really crazy to blow this weekend. Besides the computer class, what else are you taking? None of those instructors are hot, are they?" Their conversation lapsed into discussion about the night school program Anton had enrolled in and the efforts he was making to keep up with his two classes. It surprised Mason for a moment when he heard the other course was an art history class, but the more he listened to Anton, the more it made sense. He saw beauty as well as function in the things he built. Learning about other forms would only enhance what he ended up creating. Appetizers came and went. Anton only let go of Mason's hand when their main courses arrived, but he replaced the simple contact with a nudge of his foot instead. Every once in a while, he glanced up at him through his lashes, and a fresh charge surged through Mason, a blend of desire and satisfaction and anticipation that he never experienced outside of Anton's company. It made the meal fly by. When the waitress set their desserts down in front of them, he was shocked to realize just how much of the night was already gone. "If you'd like, there's a club near my place that I thought we'd go to after dinner." Anton slipped his spoon into his flan and smiled. "Dancing might help us work off some of this food." Mason grinned. "You dance?" "You don't need to act so surprised." 122

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The image of what Anton must look like on the dance floor left Mason light-headed. "Why shouldn't I be a little surprised?" The glint in his eyes was straight from the devil himself. "Because that means you think I might not know my rhythm well enough to do it. And I thought I'd proven that on Cinco de Mayo." "I seem to recall being impressed with your sense of rhythm before. I guess you'll just have to remind me what you're capable of." Thoughtfully, Anton licked the flan off the back of his spoon. "On the dance floor? Or someplace else?" Watching Anton's tongue work over the spoon, Mason couldn't help but wonder when he would get the chance to kiss him again. "Both." "But we don't even know how nice your hotel room is." "True. How nice is your place?" "It'll be nicer if you're in it." "We don't have to dance at the club, you know." Anton took another bite of his flan. "We don't. But then I wouldn't have the chance to show you off, now would I?" Mason hid his pleasure by focusing on his dessert. "Oh, I'm not a good dancer at all. Everybody will wonder what you're doing with that clumsy gringo." "Doubtful. But if you're worried about your dancing, don't be. I'll teach you a few moves." He flashed a smile. "We can call it an exchange for when I'm e-mailing you, desperate for help in my computer course." 123

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"I have a feeling you can teach me a lot of things. You're still going to teach me how to build something, right?" Anton nodded. "Though that might have to wait a bit. I don't have a workspace with my apartment, and you ... don't have an apartment at all." "No, and I guess the hotel guests wouldn't be thrilled to hear sawing and hammering all day. I guess I'll settle for a few dance moves ... for now." When Anton pushed back his plate, Mason was surprised to see all of his dessert was gone. "It might not have to be for long. The new church I'm going to has a lot of space. I've been considering making a trade with them. Offering to do the handyman work around the church in exchange for someplace to do some of my own. What do you think?" "That sounds like a win-win situation to me." Mason wasn't finished with his flan, but he wasn't interested in the sweet dessert any longer. "Your new church ... are you out there?" "Yes. I thought..." As he contemplated his words, he reached across the table and scooped some of Mason's flan onto his spoon. "I thought it would be easier if I was brave about it from the start," he finished. "So I looked for churches that were more open instead of trying to find a Catholic one. They've been very friendly so far." "Good. That's good." Mason had very little use for organized religion of any sort, but he understood why it was important to Anton. If nothing else, the built-in community clearly meant a great deal to him. "It seems like you've got everything in order here." 124

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"No." Anton's foot ran along the side of Mason's. "But I'm working on it." Mason thought Anton didn't have much work left to do. "Come on. I'm eager to start working off this food." Anton insisted on paying, and then escorted Mason out of the restaurant to hail a cab. He seemed perfectly comfortable giving out the address to the club, and Mason was more than a little impressed. This was the same Anton he had known in Puebla, and yet, he was different. The difference had to be his confidence level. Anton had found a place where he could be comfortable in his own skin. Mason had already thought Anton to be a pretty amazing person, but now he had even more reason to admire him. The club was full, but it wasn't quite the scene Mason was used to in San Antonio. There was a good amount of variety, in terms of age and backgrounds. It was crowded, but not bursting to the seams with people. Mason didn't recognize the music playing, but as the song changed, he realized the DJ was catering toward the eclectic clientele. The décor was stylish, but inviting, and it was obvious that some of the people were as blue-collar as Anton. Mason could understand why Anton might feel comfortable there. His pulse leapt when Anton entwined their fingers together in order to lead them to one corner of the bar. After he'd ordered two beers, he perched on a stool and looked out over the half-full dance floor, never letting go of Mason's hand. "I have a confession to make," he said. "I've never actually danced at this particular club. I just come in and watch." 125

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Mason almost teased Anton about how much he liked to watch, but decided to go the more serious route. "Why haven't you danced here?" Anton shrugged. "I wasn't interested in the guys who asked me." Mason glanced around the room, and he didn't miss the way a few of the patrons already eyed Anton. "Really? It seems like you could have your choice in here." "Doesn't matter." He lifted their clasped hands and brushed his mouth across the back of Mason's. "None of them were you, corazón." The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. For the moment, he was fascinated with Anton's mouth—the texture of his lips, the small smile that never left his face, the way the word rolled off his tongue. The music shifted again, into something with a slower, driving beat. "In that case, can I have this dance now?" Without a word, Anton slid from his stool. He pulled Mason out onto the floor, not even glancing around at the other couples that were finding spots as he closed the distance between them. His arm immediately went around Mason's waist, his palm splaying in the small of his back. It brought their bodies into direct contact, enough for Mason to feel every hard muscle deceptively hidden by the new clothes. Anton pressed his mouth to the soft spot below Mason's ear. "Two months is too long," he murmured. Mason sighed and tilted his head. He was certain he'd never fit this well with anybody else. "Much too long. I don't want to wait another two months before I see you again." 126

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The throbbing music melded them together, making it effortless to follow the slow rolls of Anton's hips. They moved in synch, small circuits that covered only a few feet of space. It could have been their hundredth dance, for as easy as it came to them. Though the club was warm, the chills running down Mason's spine had nothing to do with the air conditioning and everything to do with the thickening hardness pressing into his stomach. Anton kept massaging the muscles at the top of his ass—long, deep strokes that hinted at even more. His mouth kept moving, too, though it never strayed far from Mason's neck. He seemed content to taste and savor that same patch of skin all night. Mason wasn't sure, but he thought the song might have changed. It didn't matter ... the song, the beat, the rhythm. All that mattered was the way his body awakened as they moved. All five of his senses were completely attuned to Anton. Even his tongue and lips tingled with the taste of Anton's skin when he tilted his head to kiss his jaw. He resisted putting an inch between them. He didn't know what was going to happen once they left the club, or what would happen once he returned to San Antonio. Mason spoke close to Anton's ear, so softly it might have been buried by the music. "Quiero estar contigo para siempre." Anton didn't stop his slow gyrations, but Mason felt the tremor in his hand. It slid up Mason's back to settle between his shoulder blades, and even there, the vibrations pulsed through his shirt. 127

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"Always needs to have a start, just like anything else." The whispered words tickled over his ear. "Come home with me tonight." Mason nodded, and his heart leapt into double-time. "I was really hoping you'd ask. I want to have you all to myself." "Oh, corazón..." The music stopped as Anton pulled back. The lights inside the club were muted; that left only one explanation for the bright shine in his eyes. The very best kind. Though his lashes ducked to Mason's mouth, Anton peeled even farther away as a new, more driving beat resonated through the room. He kept their hands tight as he led Mason back to the bar. Tossing some money onto the counter, he took their beers, holding them by the longnecks. He didn't speak again until they stood outside in the sweltering summer night. "My apartment is just a couple blocks," he said, holding out Mason's beer. "You don't mind walking, do you?" Mason took the bottle and shook his head. "Not at all." The July heat pressed on his neck and back, but it didn't bother Mason. Life poured out of every building and lingered on every corner, and the city pulsed around them. Mason had loved Mexico City when he lived here before, and he thought it wouldn't take much to make him love it again. "Did you ... did you ever wonder if what happened between us was just a fling?" Anton sipped slowly from his beer. Mason wondered if he was even aware of the way his thumb kept caressing Mason's hand. 128

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"Yes," Anton finally admitted. "I hoped it wasn't, but ... you left. And you were so angry with me. Sometimes, it feels like all I've done since you came for Cinco de Mayo is think. It was probably inevitable I think that might be a possibility." "But you know why I left, don't you?" "Because you thought I was staying with Pedra." "Did you ever intend to stay with Pedra?" "Not after we left the fiesta. The more time I spent with you, the more I saw how much I was pretending in my real life." "Oh." Mason almost felt sick over the time they lost. "I almost ruined everything, didn't I?" Anton squeezed his hand. "Don't say things like that. Nothing is ruined. We're together now, aren't we?" "Yeah, but we wouldn't be if you hadn't found me. I thought I was doing the right thing by not trying to contact you. God, Anton, I'm sorry." "Stop, stop, it was the right thing. It's better this way. I needed to be on my own two feet again. As soon as I was, I found you." He nudged at Mason's arm, trying to lighten the mood. "You wouldn't have wanted me around when I was still trying to work things through, would you? You would've pulled all your hair out in frustration. I know it." For maybe the hundredth time that night, a wave of love and affection swept through Mason. It was a surprise each time he felt it—but only because nobody else had ever inspired that sort of reaction. "You have a point about the frustration. And I don't think I'd look nearly so pretty if I were bald." 129

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Anton glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as he pulled him into the courtyard of a two-story apartment complex. "It's probably a good thing I want you for more than the pretty, then." "What more?" There was a definite spring in Anton's step as he led the way around a covered walk. When they came to a stop in front a dark door, he finally let go of Mason's hand in order to fish around in his pocket for his keys. "Well, somebody has to help me pass this computer class, don't they?" "You want me around for my mind? I guess I better not be too helpful, so you'll keep me around." Anton pushed the door open, and a soft blast of cooler air wafted out from the darkened apartment. "There's another way to get to stick around." At the quizzical lift of Mason's brow, he smiled and stepped inside. "Don't go." Mason returned his smile and followed him into the apartment. The door clicked shut behind them, but Mason didn't give Anton time to turn on the light switch. As soon as they were alone in the dark, he reached for Anton. One hand went to Anton's hip, and the other to the back of his neck. "I won't go. If you kiss me." He could barely see the outline of Anton's head in the darkness, but he didn't need to. He felt the gentle skim of his hand at his waist, the fan of sweet breath across his cheek. The first touch of Anton's lips to his was almost not a touch at all. Feathery softness. Warmth. The familiar curve of a familiar mouth. He might have felt a little disappointed if it 130

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wasn't for the moan that immediately followed. Because the moan wasn't his. "I've dreamed about this." Anton whispered the confession as if he were afraid that saying it any louder would dispel the heat winding around both of them. "This isn't pretending, right?" Mason tightened his hold and replied in a matching tone. "We're not pretending. I'm going to make sure you know how real this is." He pressed his mouth to Anton's, tracing the seam of his lips until they parted. As soon as Anton let him deepen the kiss, Mason didn't bother to hold himself back. He fed the kiss with every apology he still thought he should make, everything he didn't say over dinner, every daydream and sleepless night. But more than that, he just wanted to kiss Anton and know they were doing nothing wrong. Anton slid his arm around Mason's waist, much like he had when they were dancing. There was no music now, no driving beat to circle them around a dance floor, but the room still managed to throb against his flesh. It could have been anything—the passion of Anton's kiss, the ache of his own need, the rush of blood inside his veins. He didn't need to define it. All that mattered was where he was, who he was with. And that Anton wanted him to stay. His lungs burned when they parted. When Anton rested his forehead to Mason's, it was slick with sweat, in spite of the cooler temperatures in the apartment.

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"I want to show you what I was going to send you," Anton said. He took a step back, reaching for Mason's hand. "And lucky for me, it's in the bedroom." "I think that's lucky for both of us." Mason closed his fingers around Anton's, trusting the other man to lead him in the dark. Curiosity consumed him. He would be happy with anything Anton deemed a suitable gift, but he very much hoped it was something Anton had made himself. The apartment was small, and he felt another slight temperature change when they reached the bedroom. Anton flipped on the overhead lamp, and his vision blurred, his eyes shocked by the light. Gradually, everything swam back to focus, and Mason's gaze jumped around the room, finally landing on the only thing that could be his gift. "Is it ... is that for me?" It hadn't been done the last time he'd seen it, but now, the dark headboard was polished and proud. The sunburst cutouts beckoned him closer, and Anton relinquished his fingers to allow Mason the luxury of touching the smooth wood. "You were the only one who ever appreciated it," Anton said softly. "It seems only fit that it belong to you." "That must be some sort of mistake," Mason murmured. It leaned beneath a vent, so it was cool to the touch, but Mason felt the heat from the shed, the heat of Anton's hands on his body. "Surely somebody else recognized how amazing this is." 132

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"Pedra said all the fretwork would mean she was constantly dusting it." He paused. "I never had the heart to show it to anyone after that." "Dusting it?" Mason's jaw almost dropped. It was true the fretwork might require more time for proper care, but what difference did that make? The design was so precise, the shapes all cut to exact specifications, the pattern so complicated it almost looked simple, and Pedra was worried about dusting it. "Just so we're clear ... you're really, really giving this to me?" "Yes. Unless you'd like something else? Or if it's the wrong size. I made it for a queen-size bed—" "No! No, I do not want anything else." Mason moved away from the headboard to stand in front of Anton. "That's the second best thing you've ever given me." The relief in Anton's eyes was palpable. With a small smile, he grasped Mason's hip and pulled him close again. "Only second best? I'm going to have to work harder, I think." "Just so you know what you're working for, the invitation to Mexico City is at the top of the list." Anton had been leaning forward to kiss him, but Mason's words drove him back again. Black eyes searched his, and he waited impatiently for whatever Anton was looking for. "You would do that? You'd move here if I asked you to?" "Yeah. I would. I've lived here before. I like it a lot. And also, you're here." "What about your job?" "It's just a job. It's not my life. I don't even like it that much. I can find another one here." 133

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Delight slowly spread over Anton's face. "You probably should have held off on telling me this until after you were back in San Antonio." Taking Mason's hand, he backed up to the edge of his bed. "Now I don't know how I am going to let you leave." "So does that mean you're officially asking me?" Mason said, his mouth hovering just above Anton's. "Yeah, I am. The only future I want is the one with you in it, corazón." "Oh, good." The second kiss was far softer than the first one they shared at the door, but it was no less intense. This kiss was fueled by Mason's relief. He thought about all those nights he'd spent, curled up on the couch, wondering how he would feel or react if this impossible moment ever happened to him. Ultimately, it was nothing like he had imagined—it was better by orders of magnitude. Anton reached up and cupped Mason's face, his thumbs tickling the corners of his mouth. They continued to tickle after Anton broke away, but only in the space of the seconds it took to pull Mason back with him onto the bed. Together, they landed on the mattress in a tangle of arms and legs. Anton promptly wrapped his arms around him and rolled them onto their sides. "Nobody has ever made me feel as special as you do," he said in wonder. He traced Mason's jaw with fingertips that would always send a shiver down his spine. "I don't know why you do, but I thank God for it, every second I'm with you." 134

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"Maybe I make you feel special because I recognize how amazing you are." Mason ghosted his mouth across Anton's, inhaling to catch the scent of his skin and cologne. "Did I ever tell you that this has never happened to me before?" "What hasn't?" "Falling in love." "No, you didn't." Anton touched along his waist, slipping his fingers inside the band. His nail caught on the wet tip of Mason's cock. "It might not have been the happiest of months for us, but I think maybe all of it happened for a reason. I don't know how else I would have found you otherwise." Anton's finger brushed against his cock again and Mason shuddered. "Maybe it did happen for a reason. Maybe it happened so I'd appreciate what I almost lost." His fingers went to Anton's shirt, and he began working on the buttons. He kissed the triangle of skin he exposed, his mouth following his hand down Anton's chest. "What can I do to show you how much I appreciate it?" "Let me love you." Pressing his knee between Mason's legs, Anton gently pushed him to his back. He propped himself up on his knuckles, remaining motionless as Mason pulled his shirt free from the waistband. The sides hung open around them, curtaining them in, but it also gave Mason the perfect view of his incredible chest. Bending his head, Anton kissed him, slowly, sweetly, his tongue seeking out the taste of Mason's. Mason molded his hands over the sculptured muscles, soaking in the heat as he explored every inch. His cock throbbed. Anton's was just as 135

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hard where it nudged against him. But neither made a move to strip away the rest of their clothing just yet. It was enough in that moment to revel in the simple caresses. "Can I fuck you like this?" Anton asked. "It's not as comfortable for you, but I need to see you." Mason dragged his hands down Anton's body. He loved the way Anton responded to the pressure, the way his muscles jumped and twitched, the way he sighed. He shivered at the thought of the hours and hours he would spend worshipping Anton's body. He teased Anton's mouth for a moment before answering. "If you promise it'll be as good as the first time, you can fuck me any way you like." "It'll be better." He nibbled a path down Mason's neck, finding the soft spot at the base of his throat and sucking for a moment before adding, "Because this time, it'll be real." Mason gasped and tilted his head back. His ass clenched at the thought of Anton stretching and preparing him for his cock. "It felt real to me before." Anton lifted his head. His eyes shone, but Mason only caught it for a moment before he was kissing him again, his lips soft and searching. He skimmed a hand down Mason's front, undoing the buttons along the way, until their bare chests touched, hot skin to hot skin. He didn't stop kissing, even when his fingers came up to trace over one of Mason's nipples, pinching it when it peaked. Mason smoothed his hands down Anton's ribs and between their bodies, seeking out his waistband. Mason managed to unbuckle Anton's belt and work his fly open without breaking 136

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the kiss, but Anton gasped for breath as soon as Mason gripped his cock. It was hot and smooth, the tip already slick with pre-come. "Do that too much, and I'll come before I get inside you," he rasped. He pulled back, sitting on his heels as he slipped out of his shirt. Mason watched the muscles ripple in his chest when Anton leaned to the side to open the nightstand drawer. He came back with a condom and the lube. Mason unbuttoned his pants, pushed them off his hips, and worked them down his legs. His cock rested against his stomach, hard and throbbing, and it twitched as he watched Anton pour the lube over his fingers. He waited for the familiar recoil at the thought of letting anybody fuck him, but if he felt it, it was completely overshadowed by his arousal. Anton smoothed his dry hand over the length of Mason's shaft, pressing it more firmly against his abdomen. With the other, he traced down the crack of his ass, sliding over the hole before reversing direction to come back. "Since you never preferred being fucked..." Anton's low voice was mirrored in his soft touch, his finger circling around Mason's opening in maddening repetition. "Does that mean you took control instead?" "Sometimes. I'd always fuck anybody who asked me to. But usually..." Mason was forced to stop and catch his breath when Anton added a bit more pressure to his touch. "I could find other ways to satisfy." Curling his fingers around Mason's cock, Anton began to stroke him in long, languorous pulls. "So ... if I asked?" 137

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Mason licked his lips with his suddenly dry tongue. It was far too easy to imagine Anton's slick, muscled body rising above him, or tensing beneath him as his ass clenched around Mason's cock. "If you asked, you'd only have to ask once." With a shy, pleased smile, Anton lowered his gaze, watching his fingers work at Mason's pucker. "I've been wondering about it with you," he admitted. Carefully, he pushed his index finger past the tight ring of muscle, pausing when Mason gasped. "Don't be surprised if I'm begging you for it before morning." Mason took a few deep breaths to help him adjust to the pressure of Anton's finger. As soon as he relaxed, Anton began to pump his wrist slowly. The steady, easy friction was just a tiny hint at the sort of pleasure that would erupt through his body. "Have you ... ever let anybody fuck you?" Anton shook his head. "Carlos wasn't interested, and the men before him..." He kept his eyes downcast as he added a second finger, twisting them into Mason's clenching passage. "I always thought I attracted a type." Mason put both feet against the mattress and tentatively rocked forward, pushing against Anton's fingers. "The type that wants you to bend them over a chair and fuck them until they can't walk?" Anton snorted. "Something like that." "I get that. It's probably because..." Anton twisted his wrist again, and Mason let his breath out in a slow hiss. "They saw you dance." 138

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"You never saw me dance until tonight." When he lifted his eyes again, there was an amused twinkle in them. "I guess that means you don't want me for the fucking." "No..." Mason lifted his head, watching as Anton's strong hand moved up and down his shaft. "The fucking is just a really spectacular bonus." His skin scorched when Anton added a third finger, twisting the locked fingers in and out of his ass at the same rhythm he pumped his cock. With each stroke, Anton breathed a little heavier, and more than once, he licked his lips. The room felt warmer, too. Mason felt every bead of sweat dripping down his balls. "Are you ready?" Mason only needed to nod. Anton's hand disappeared from Mason's body before he stood up long enough to push his pants to the floor. Mason's pulse fluttered as he watched Anton kneel in front of him, ripping the condom open and unrolling it down his shaft. Mason hooked his legs over Anton's hips, angling himself toward Anton's cock. As soon as the tip nudged against his hole, Anton dropped forward, bracing himself on his knuckles, and sought out Mason's mouth. Fire radiated through his body as Anton pressed slowly inside. Mason gasped into the kiss, but when Anton hesitated, clearly concerned about pain, Mason tightened his hold around his hips and tugged. The unexpected jerk buried a few more thick inches inside his quivering passage, this time drawing groans from both men. 139

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"I don't want to hurt you," Anton managed between kisses. "But as tight as you are, I can't help but want to pound into you." "Just give me a few minutes," Mason breathed. "As good as you feel, I might be begging for that soon." Anton groaned at his confession and slammed their mouths back together. Though he didn't push any harder or faster, his ravenous tongue more than made up for it, twisting with Mason's, searching out each and every corner, stealing each and every breath he had to spare and even some he couldn't. The muscles in the arm next to Mason's ear quivered, and he slid his other hand beneath Mason's ass, lifting him slightly as he pressed even deeper. Despite Anton's stated desire to pound into him, he managed to keep a tight rein on himself. He vibrated with restraint, each thrust into Mason's body long and slow. Mason had one hand on Anton's ass, the other on his shoulder, and his grip tightened with each stroke. Anton didn't give him the chance to speak—he barely gave him the chance to breathe— but Mason didn't need to use words to get what he wanted. He pushed against Anton's body, using his hand to prompt Anton into a harder rhythm. A long shudder wracked through Anton's flesh. He tore away from Mason's mouth to burn a trail over his jaw, and gradually added more force to his drives, until their skin slapped together hard enough to sting. It added to the pleasure already exploding within Mason, pleasure that exceeded their last encounter by a thousandfold, pleasure he hadn't thought within his grasp just a few short days earlier. 140

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There was a moment where guilt tried to rear its ugly head, but he tamped it down in favor of concentrating on Anton's glorious body poised above his. A glorious body Mason couldn't get enough of. He kept his hand on Anton's ass, using the other to explore Anton's slick flesh. His fingers glided down Anton's ribs and up his spine, then to his jaw to cup the side of his face. Mason halfexpected the kiss to be as demanding as Anton's body, but the caress was almost gentle compared to the hard rhythm they were building between them. "Corazón," Anton murmured. "Love you so much." "Te quiero," Mason said against his mouth. "Always, Anton." The sound he made was halfway between a sigh and a moan, but it was quickly drowned by Mason's groans. Somehow, Anton had shifted his angle, and now his cock slammed across his prostate on every bruising stroke. Anton slipped his free hand between their bodies, but wrapping it around Mason's shaft was all it took for everything in him to detonate. He crushed their mouths back together, shaking almost violently as his orgasm ripped through him. His come coated their stomachs, slicking the slides of their bodies as Anton pistoned for a few more strokes before stiffening. Mason tightened his legs around Anton's hips, holding him close as his cock jerked inside Mason's ass. His arms clutched at him as well. It was impossible to get as close as he wanted to, but this would have to do. He simply wouldn't let go until he absolutely had to. 141

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Anton slowed the kiss as their orgasms ebbed, soothing over Mason's savaged lips with long, languorous swipes. "I meant it," he said. "It wasn't just the moment. I do love you." "I know." Mason didn't loosen his hold, unwilling to let even an inch separate them. "I just hope ... I don't give you reason to change your mind." Anton kissed him again, soft and tender. "You won't. You can't." Mason smiled at the assurance. "I won't argue with you about it." He nuzzled Anton's neck, licking his damp skin. "We don't have to leave the apartment this weekend, do we?" "Not if you don't want to." His breath warmed Mason as surely as his tone did. "Though it'll be hard to say good-bye on Sunday." "It won't be for very long, though. Maybe a month." Anton chuckled. "Is this the same man who thought two months apart was hell?" "It was hell, but only because I thought two months was just the beginning of our separation." Pulling back, Anton gazed down at him, his black eyes molten and shining. "As long as you come back. That's all I care about." "I'll come back," Mason promised softly. He ghosted his fingers over Anton's brow. "Because you're my corazón, too." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Jamie Craig Jamie Craig is the collaborative efforts of Pepper Espinoza and Vivien Dean. Both successful authors on their own, they began working together in early 2006. Pepper lives with her husband and cats in Utah, where she attends graduate school, and Vivien resides in northern California with her husband and two children. **** Don't miss the next Calendar Boys— June: Commencement Available at Amber-Allure.com! Mason Ritter does not want to go to Puebla, Mexico, with his long-time boyfriend, Miguel. He claims he does not want to deal with the hassle of traveling from San Antonio to Puebla. He doesn't like the way Miguel pretends Mason is just his good friend when they're around Miguel's father. He doesn't want to take the time off work. But in reality, Mason has only one reason to avoid the Cinco de Mayo fiesta in Puebla—Anton Rocha. Anton Rocha is engaged to Miguel's sister, Pedra. Anton Rocha is off-limits. Anton Rocha is also the most desirable, intoxicating man Mason has ever met. And Mason is in serious danger of losing his heart before the end of the fiesta. 143

Calendar Boys--May: Corazon by Jamie Craig

**** Don't miss Vampyre Falls: Animal Heat, by Adrianna Dane, available at AmberHeat.com! Hot. Hard. Handsome. And dangerously ravenous—for Rainna Spaulding. Rainna knows there's something different about Treynor Black and if she could just keep her hands off him for five seconds she might find out what it is. But five seconds in his company and she's overwhelmed by the most intensely lustful, searing heat she could imagine, and common sense is not on the menu. So what if he likes his meat rare and his rendezvous at midnight during a full moon? She could handle it. He had secrets, well so did she. And then she meets his brothers, Carson and Donovan. Talk about turning up the heat to scorching! Who were these brothers? Or maybe she should ask what were they? **** Don't miss Surrender's Edge, by Pepper Espinoza, available at Amber-Allure.com!

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Calendar Boys--May: Corazon by Jamie Craig

Geoffrey Kirk has been in love with his best friend, Nash, since almost the moment they met. Convinced that Nash would never return his feelings, he forced himself to move on, and fell for his assistant, Sunny. Despite his strong feelings, he never acted on them, and when he discovered Sunny and Nash together, he thought he lost his chance for happiness forever. Until Sunny and Nash make it clear that he hasn't lost anything ... and he still has a great deal to gain... [Back to Table of Contents]

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Calendar Boys--May: Corazon by Jamie Craig

Amber Quill's Rewards Program For every ten books bought, receive one free! Visit all three of Amber Quill's web sites for our very latest releases!! **** AMBER HEAT EROTICA Gimme Fever!! Steamy, sensual genre fiction... www.AmberHeat.com **** AMBER ALLURE Where love is blind to gender... www.Amber-Allure.com **** 146

Calendar Boys--May: Corazon by Jamie Craig

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