It's Complicated: A Reservations Story

“In this offer, do you have to keep your hands to yourself?” Beckett finally asked, bringing an instant playful joy to Julian’s heart.

“Of course not. Regardless of having the authorities called on you tonight then watching you easily break into the locked swimming pool…” He spread his arms out wide to encompass the entire pool area. “I’m the rule breaker. The reckless one. Not you. I play with fire, you don’t.”

Beckett burst out with a loud laugh. Within seconds several window lights around the common area flipped on. They’d been caught. Julian took off in a sprint toward the gate. The latch that Beckett had managed to spring free had fallen back in place, locking them in from the inside.

Beckett passed Julian in a dead run, hopping the gate in one skilled move, causing Julian to stop in his tracks and just stare at the man. “I can’t do that.”

“Sure, you can. Hand me the bottle, and I’ll catch you on this side.” Beckett’s hands went out as if Julian were ready to jump.

Right. Like he was Sporty Spice…

The manager’s front door opened. She stepped out, doing her best Damien from The Omen impression, full of frightening promises of reprimand and homeowner association citations. Julian all but threw the bottle and cups at Beckett, quickly doing a weird half climb jumping thing. He knew what he had to look like; athletics had never been his thing.

“Julian Cullen, is that you?” the manager called out.

He answered with the first thing that came to mind. “No. It’s his next-door neighbor on the east side. The one who loves carbs.” Damn, he wished he remembered the nosey woman’s name.

As promised, Beckett caught Julian even with the bottle and glasses in his hands. Julian’s bright smile and heaving chest slammed into Beckett, who absorbed all his body weight. Julian’s inner laughter bubbled in his throat. Beckett barely had him on his feet before he grabbed Julian’s hand, taking off in a dead run toward his condo.

Beckett stood in front of the mirror in the guest bathroom, staring at his reflection. He always traveled with a pair of pajama pants and a T-shirt for just-in-case situations, but he’d never had to use them before. He usually wore underwear to sleep in. Tonight though, he felt fully clothed. His gaze lowered to his annoyingly rigid hard-on. His fucking cock was relentless. Beckett stuck his hand in the waistband, trying to do anything to hide the obvious.

He sighed in failure. Julian had to be used to his arousal by now, and he reached for his toothbrush, quickly brushing his teeth before running a hairbrush over his short strands. The style he wore made for the perfect morning bedhead. Nothing to be done about that either.

All these worries were superficial to the anxiety he had about sleeping with Julian. He kept telling Julian that he gave him too much credit for being a decent guy. Of course, he would never force Julian into anything, but the wet dreams he’d quite possibly have while lying next to the man of his dreams… Fuck.

“Stop thinking about it,” Beckett hissed to his reflection quietly.

Maybe he should quickly rub one-off.

He shrugged and reached for the knot in his drawstring. It didn’t seem like a bad idea.

“I feel as if I should wait for you to go to bed, but you’re taking a really long time in there…” Julian’s teasing tone was yelled from a distance but still made him jump, drawing Beckett’s eyes to the closed bathroom door. Why did he feel like a horny teen that just got caught jacking off? He took a deep breath, trying to control his libido.

Julian had to be in bed already. He should just go out there.

He’d stalled long enough and left the knot alone, lifting his finger to point at himself in the mirror. The stern look he gave said everything that needed to be said: Control all your urges. No wet dreams. Watch the hair and breath. He should probably sleep on his back to keep his hair from standing on end.

Decision made and confirmed with a nod. He quickly packed his belongings together and tucked them away.

When Beckett opened the door, the only light came from a small lamp on the nightstand on Julian’s side of the bed. Julian rested against the headboard. Woofer snored quietly from his nearby bed.

Julian hadn’t lied when he spoke about the actual size of his mattress. The mattress was huge. Julian took the right side, so Beckett went to the left.

“I didn’t expect you to be a pajama pants guy,” Julian said, eyeing him up and down like he was a grade A piece of meat. “You should always wear your shirts that tight. You’re built.”

Beckett smiled at Julian, intentionally ignoring the last comment. “I don’t normally sleep in clothes,” Beckett said, stopping at the edge of the mattress. “You sure you’re good with this?”