Marc Jillson & The Gazebo (Love Inscribed 2)

“Liam,” he answered, gaze hitting mine warningly as I attempted to slide off him.

I resettled on his legs, and he absently rubbed my thigh. “We got delayed.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “We could be there in thirty minutes?”

Oh. The party.

Awkward socializing with Hunter’s friends. The constant reminder I wasn’t good enough for Hunter. My insides sank, but I yanked out a grin and nodded.

“See you soon,” Hunter said, and hung up. He slid the phone away and palmed my thighs. “Doing it again will have to wait.”

“S’good. I need practice in patience.”

I wrangled my boxers on. My chest was sticky. Hunter started rolling and angled his head for me to follow. “Come.”

Hunter wrung hot water out of a washcloth and passed it to me. I cleaned myself, watching Hunter in the mirror meticulously doing the same. The edge of his washcloth lingered at the red spot where I’d sucked his neck.

I wasn’t sure I was meant to see his secret smile, but I did, and it triggered one of my own.

The party with Liam and Quinn.

Not the most fun. Turned out a couple of Hunter’s past crushes were at the frat house, and had decided tonight, of all nights, to return Hunter’s past attentions.

I spent most of the evening finding excuses to escape the flirtations to the balcony.

I zipped up my jacket and leaned against the rail overlooking a grassy park. Movement stirred behind me and I turned. Liam seemed equally eager to flee.

“I’m not ready to be friends with you yet,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Right. I get it.”

“But.”

My body jerked straighter at that qualification. But?

“Thank you for editing and submitting my article about dating for the differently abled last year. You didn’t have to, and it meant a lot to me you did.”

He’d never have submitted it in on time if I hadn’t done it. He’d chosen helping his friends over landing a feature article that meant the world to him. It wasn’t enough to atone, but it’d helped.

He frowned toward the clear night sky. “Why did you do it?”

The ghost of pain from Jack’s punches had me shivering. “I realized I’d been wrong.” My hands tightened on the rail. Here was my opportunity to apologize, properly, without the influence of alcohol. “Liam, how I behaved—”

The balcony doors swung out and Quinn stepped outside, carrying Hunter bridal style. Hunter’s arms were looped around Quinn’s shoulders. I bristled. Sure, the door might not be wide enough for his chair, but I had a phone. Hunter could’ve called me to get him.

Quinn gently deposited Hunter onto a bench before promptly slipping his arms around Liam and kissing his throat.

Hunter spared me a dirty look. “I can’t believe you left me in there to fend for myself.”

My mouth dropped open. “You were soaking up those guys’ attention.”

“For the first five minutes, but then I looked around for you to run away with me, and you’d run away without me.”

“I’m feeling a cue for us to leave,” Quinn said. He playfully dragged Liam toward the door. “Call me when you want to come back in.”

Someone growled.

Apparently, it was me. “I’m gonna need you not to do that. Thanks.”

Quinn glanced to Hunter and pulled Liam inside, nodding.

Hunter raised a humored brow. “You’ve gone all pissy.”

“Wanna fuck it out of me?”

Hunter cast me a chastising look.

“What? I mean it.” I drew out the condoms. “I’ll ride you right there. I don’t care who watches.”

“Marc . . .”

“It’ll be spontaneous. Fun.”

“Don’t think I wouldn’t do it,” Hunter growled. “Hell, I don’t give a shit who watches.”

I prowled toward him. “Come on then, let’s do it.”

“Talk to me. Tell me something real.”

“Something real: this, right here, you fucking me on the balcony. Let’s call it a fantasy.”

Hunter pulled me onto his lap. My back against his chest, his hot breath puddled under my ear. “What happened earlier today?”

“Just stuff. Nothing important.”

Hunter undid my jeans and reached a cool hand into my boxer briefs. He stroked my half-hard cock.

Fuck, Hunter meant it. I groaned and dropped my head back on his wide shoulder.

He kissed my throat and whispered. “What happened?”

My eyes stung, and my chest thumped hard with butterflies and wretched sadness.

The harder I tried to blink it down, the more it fought to the surface. A stupid tear leaked out of my eye, and Hunter kissed it.

“Come on, love, talk to me.”

I didn’t know what to think of that endearment. Didn’t know how to respond. But my chest hopped as words poured out of my mouth. The call with Jason, ruining things with the love of Uncle Ben’s life, Uncle Ben’s near confession . . . .

My erection wilted, and Hunter slid his arms around my waist and held me tight.

“When I first moved in, Jason came to visit. I was, like, sixteen and a real piece of work. I knew why Dad thought I was a disappointment. I basically told the world to fuck off. Everything annoyed me. Including Jason. He’s a ballet dancer and . . . has certain mannerisms. I didn’t like how in-your-face gay he was and I let him know it. Not in words, in attitude. In making it uncomfortable. It worked. I’m to blame for their broken romance.”