Double Play (Hit and Run Book 3), page 9
Hervé’s breath was heaving in his chest, and he couldn’t bring himself to let go, but Orion’s grip on him said that he didn’t really want to put space between them. Slowing down didn’t mean it was ending.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed like that,” he admitted right into Orion’s chest.
He felt the rumble of his would-be lover’s laugh, and then thick fingers brushed through his tangles of hair. “I want to do a lot more than kiss you, but I’m not that kind of guy. I need to…”
“Be wined and dined?” Hervé asked, pulling back to look up at him.
Orion’s cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were bright, and he dragged his bottom lip between his teeth before he answered. “I think we’ve done that. But I wouldn’t mind buying a few useless trinkets and holding your hand while we walk. If you’re up for it.”
Hervé had wanted to curl up and sleep, and now he wanted to run a marathon if doing that meant he could keep Orion for the night. “I think I can handle that.”
Orion grinned, then bent down and stole a last kiss before he pulled away. “I’m going to go tell the front desk we’re checking out. Unless…”
Hervé shook his head. “I don’t have my medication. I…it’s not that I want to go, but—”
Orion reached out and traced a finger over Hervé’s lower lip. “What we just had is enough. I’ll be right back. Finish your food.”
Hervé would have given some snappy, sarcastic comeback if he could have, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and silence followed on Orion’s heels as he left. When the door shut, Hervé backed into the chair, then stared at the rest of his plate.
A beat passed, then another, and then he stuck his fork into a tender piece of steak and realized that following someone’s orders had never felt so damn good.
Hervé was standing off to the side of the building as Orion rummaged through a bunch of cheap figurines when he realized he’d never done anything like this before. He’d never just strolled through the streets and shopped for things he didn’t need. He’d never taken the time to soak in his partner’s joy at such a simple, small act.
He’d never lingered in someone’s laughter or indulged in bad jokes. He’d been so consumed with making sure that his façade never slipped—that anyone who might have recognized him wouldn’t catch him off guard. He was always prim and proper and perfect, and he didn’t care what it did to the people around him.
Flipping the off switch hadn’t been a conscious decision, so much so he hadn’t realized he’d done it until Orion started making faces at a gargoyle statue and Hervé snorted with his laugh. It was loud—like some sort of goose honk—and Orion looked at him like he’d just said Christmas had come early.
“Did you just…”
“No.”
“But you did,” Orion crowed. He grabbed Hervé by his belt loops and backed him up against a brick wall. “You did.”
Hervé swallowed thickly. “Careful. They will arrest you for being indecent.”
“Wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve been sent to jail for,” Orion murmured, but he backed up and tucked his fingers between Hervé’s, pulling him along.
Hervé blinked, then yanked on his arm. “That sounds like a story.”
Orion groaned, but he was clearly fighting back a laugh as they started toward the edge of the island where Orion had parked. Hervé knew the date was almost over, but the fact that Orion was still holding him—and the fact that nothing had to break just because they got back to the village—kept him from a rising panic.
“I was sixteen,” he said. “I wasn’t really a rebellious kid or anything. I really wanted to play for the MLB, and my dad spent a lot of time reminding me that guys who fuck up when they’re younger never go that far.”
“Is that true?” Hervé asked, stepping closer as the crowd started to thin. The sun was still up, though it was low on the horizon now, and the chill on the breeze was getting colder.
Orion shrugged. “Nah. I mean, look at James. The guy has a literal rap sheet. Honestly, considering what some of the assholes in professional sports get away with, they should probably be more careful about what we do after we get drafted. But I was too afraid to lose my shot, so most of the time, I was a damn saint. I wasn’t a prodigy like Pietro and Gabriel, you know? Like, I didn’t have scouts at my Little League games.”
Hervé felt a pang because he didn’t know that about Pietro. He knew vaguely about his brother—and his career and the injury that ended it. He knew Pietro was good, but he’d never paid enough attention to what made him that way.
“Anyway, the pressure was getting to me, and I started hanging out with some kids that, uh…let’s just say they cared about school a lot less than I did.”
Hervé let out a small laugh. “Rebels?”
“Punks. Like honest-to-God punks. Big boots and spiked collars and Mohawks and shit.” He grinned when Hervé looked incredulous. “I didn’t go too crazy. I dyed my hair blue for a little bit, and my mom was so embarrassed she told everyone in my family that I did it for a school play.”
Hervé huffed a soft laugh. “My mother would have literally beat me.”
Orion swallowed thickly and looked like he wanted to say something but changed his mind. “There was this school in my town where all the artsy kids went to. They had, like, music and theater and sculpting and stuff. I think they had traditional classes too, but everyone called those kids freaks.”
Hervé’s brow dipped. “I was one of those freaks. I went to a performing art school. I didn’t go to college or university or anything.”
Orion squeezed his hand. “Believe me, I’m not judging. The kids there seemed so happy. There wasn’t all this…this pressure, you know, to be amazing. You just showed up and did what made you feel good. I asked my parents if they’d take a look at it, and they said they would if I got expelled and it was my only option.”
“Expelled?” Hervé asked with a frown, not sure he was understanding right. They slowed their pace, and both of them turned to face the sea.
“Kicked out.” Orion huffed a laugh and let Hervé’s hand go, spearing his fingers through his hair. “One of my friends told me to cuss out the teachers and stop worrying about getting detentions. So I did. I spent a week mouthing off, and I even laughed in my coach’s face when he benched me.”
Hervé crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head to the side. “Did it feel good?”
“Saying fuck the man?” Orion asked with a grin, then shook his head. “It felt terrible. I’m a tragic rule-follower.”
“I would never imagine,” Hervé teased.
Orion grinned, nudging him with his elbow. “Anyway, I got a little too heated when the principal dragged me into a meeting, and he told me to leave, so I stormed off campus. He had me arrested for skipping class.”
“Arrested?” Hervé asked, his brows flying up. “They arrest you for that in the States?”
Orion shrugged. “I think he was just trying to teach me a lesson. And it worked. My parents made my ass sit in juvie for seven hours before they picked me up, and the next week, my hair was back to normal, and I never spoke to those friends again.”
Hervé wasn’t sure if that was a tragic story or not. “Did you ever resent them for taking your choice away?”
Orion stepped closer, then wrapped his arm around Hervé and pulled him close. “Yes and no. Sometimes I wonder if I’d love baseball as much as I do without my dad’s obsession. Like, who would I be, you know? Some corporate cog? Or maybe military?”
Hervé turned slightly and ran the tips of his fingers up Orion’s arm. “I think I like the uniform you wear now. Not that I’ve seen you in it much.”
Orion’s grin was almost predatory, and he glanced around them before grabbing Hervé by the chin and kissing him—deep and filthy. “You can see me in uniform anytime, sweetheart. All you have to do is ask.”
“Putain,” Hervé breathed out, his knees wobbling.
Orion grinned and eased back. “Come on. Let’s get to the car so I don’t have to carry you again.”
Where Hervé might have felt a hard rush of humiliation, something about the way Orion said it just made him laugh, and he smacked his shoulder as they got to the car. The breeze was slight and almost cold, and Hervé took a deep, cleansing breath before he opened the door and climbed inside.
It was odd, but he couldn’t ignore the way it made him feel like he was exactly where he belonged.
10
Hervé knew he wasn’t going to be able to stay awake during the drive, and he gave Orion a quick warning before he nodded off. He’d been like that since he was a kid, and it wasn’t the first time he’d wondered whether or not that was one of the early signs.
The only difference now was the strange, overly realistic dreams he had. He was no longer in the car. No, he was floating in the ocean, and his hands were stretched out, and Orion’s fingers were brushing his own. Warmth cascaded through his skin, and he felt himself get hard.
He ran his hand over his erection and groaned as Orion floated closer and pressed his lips against Hervé’s ear. “More. Harder.”
Hervé was helpless to do anything but obey.
“You like that, don’t you, sweetheart? You like it. Hervé…Hervé. Stop. Hey.”
His eyes flew open, and mortification raced through his entire body in hot waves when he realized that he was leaning back in Orion’s car with his hand over his crotch. He was only half-hard, but there was a groan lodged in the back of his throat, and there was no way to deny what had happened.
He looked around, feeling frantic, and his heart sank when he saw they were at Orion’s cottage instead of his own.
“Take me home,” he snapped.
Orion shook his head. “Just a second. Let’s—”
“Take me home!” Hervé’s voice rose into a shout just before his cataplexy took over like a rushing wave. He fought it as hard as he could, but there was nothing he could do. His chin hit his chest with a painful tug, but it only lasted for a second.
Orion’s warm hand cupped around his jaw and lifted his head, giving him a gentle shake. “Come on, sweetheart. Come back to me.”
He wondered if he was hallucinating again, but the grip on him was far too real.
“I know you’re upset, but I don’t want you to leave, okay? I want to cook you dinner and watch the stars with you. And we can do it at your place or mine, I don’t care. But please don’t push me away.” Orion’s thumbs rubbed along his cheeks as Hervé slowly regained control over his body. “Please don’t be embarrassed.”
His lips parted first, then his fingers twitched, then his eyelids fluttered. When he was able to see again, his gaze locked on Orion’s soft ocean blues, and he couldn’t tear himself away. “Tu piges pas.”
“I don’t understand.”
Hervé laughed and nodded. “Yes, exactly. You don’t understand.” He gently pulled away and took a breath. “I have no control. The dreams feel real, like I’m right there. Sometimes they’re terrifying. Sometimes they’re everyone I’ve ever known telling me they’re leaving me and that I’m going to spend the rest of my life alone. And sometimes it’s people forgiving me—and then I wake up and realize I’m in my bed and none of it actually happened. All of them—all of them,” he stressed, feeling his heart ache, “are devastating.”
And they were penance.
“And today? When you were whispering my name and touching yourself?” Orion asked.
Hervé swallowed thickly. “Torture.”
Orion leaned back, but there was heat in his eyes that Hervé couldn’t ignore, and he couldn’t pretend like he didn’t understand because he was no naïve fool. He was no blushing virgin. “It doesn’t have to be.”
Hervé dug deep for the rejection he needed to give. He had to stop this once and for all because in spite of thinking that maybe he could have this for a little while, it would kill him to lose it. “It’s not a good idea.”
“No. It’s an amazing idea,” Orion countered.
Hervé huffed and sat up straight. “Is this what you always do? Push and push until you have your way?”
“No,” Orion said, his voice going soft again. “I know how to take no for an answer. I just want to know that you believe me first.”
“About what?” Hervé asked. Misery was rising in his chest because the longer they sat there, the harder it was getting to turn away.
Orion sighed. “That I want you. That you deserve to have this—have me. Us.”
Hervé started to shake his head, but Orion caught his chin again.
“I understand that you hurt people. I understand that you hurt yourself, too, and that you’re afraid if you give in to any sort of indulgence ever again, you’ll make the same mistake. And hell, maybe you haven’t even admitted that to yourself yet, but I can see it in your face.”
Hervé tried not to wince, but the way Orion’s fingers gentled against him, he knew he’d failed. Orion was ripping words straight from his soul—from all those dark places Hervé was still too afraid to look. He didn’t want to see what was reflected back at him because he didn’t want to know if there really was nothing left but a monstrous bastard who had not only maimed others but had taken those same claws to himself.
It was too painful to think about.
“I’m not asking for the world. I’m just asking to get to know this man you’re becoming. And from what I’ve already seen,” Orion said, his voice dropping as he let his hands fall to Hervé’s shoulders, “I like him. I want him. And I think he wants me too.”
“He does,” Hervé whispered.
In truth, he hadn’t been touched—hadn’t let anyone touch him—since he left Colorado after finding Thierry. The last night he set eyes on Thierry, he’d seen the pain he’d caused. His inability to admit he was the one at fault had reared up and made him mean and cruel—and the drugs in his system only exacerbated it.
But he’d gone back to his room after that, totally alone, and stared at himself in the mirror. He saw nothing he recognized. No one he wanted to know. Just a mass of shapes in the figure of a human who was losing his soul.
He didn’t know how to deserve what Orion was offering.
But he didn’t know how to say no, either.
“My house,” he finally whispered, and Orion nodded.
Instead of pulling away, he leaned in and raised his thumb until it was touching the edge of his jaw. “Kiss me.”
Hervé started to shake his head because he wasn’t sure he was ready for that, but something in his body took over. It was the touch-starved, affection-deprived, shattered pieces of the man he should have been that were clawing to the surface, trying to cling to the one good person he’d ever let close to him.
Licking his lips, he turned his head to the side, and then Orion’s mouth met his own. It was chaste for what he was used to. A wet press of warm skin, a hint of tongue, a rush of breath.
And then it was gone. Their noses brushed together as Orion pulled back, and Hervé breathed in his scent of forest and ocean and soap. He sat back with a dull thud against the seat of the car and said nothing as Orion started the engine again, then backed out of the driveway and into the street.
His heart was beating a slow, staccato rhythm of carefully measured fear and anxiety, but it wasn’t enough to change his mind. In the end, when push came to shove, he was a selfish man, and he wanted this.
Orion stole a few glances at him as he made his way to Hervé’s cottage, and Hervé hoarded those moments to keep for himself when things inevitably fell apart. Even Pietro—who had loved Hervé as best as he was able in those circumstances—had never looked at Hervé that way.
Pietro had stared at him like he wanted to fix him, like he wanted to dig deep in his chest and find the little cogs and screws that had come loose and put him back together. Pietro had seen him as a broken man with very little hope of being anything else.
But Orion looked at him like he was worthy of these small, careful moments without having to twist himself into the shape someone else thought he should take.
And fuck, he didn’t know what to do with that.
The car hit a small bump as Orion took the turn into the cottage driveway, and Hervé gripped the handle as it rolled to a stop. His front door looked odd—almost surreal. Like stepping through it would lead them to some alternate universe where he was a man who hadn’t done all those terrible things and hurt good people.
“Do you consider yourself one of those good people?”
Hervé blinked. He hadn’t realized he had said all of that aloud, and he took in a shaking breath. “No.”
“Hmm.”
Hervé was expecting Orion to argue with him. His therapist sure as hell would have. But Orion wasn’t his therapist, and thank God for that. “Do you believe everyone deserves forgiveness?”
Orion laughed as he put the car in park and turned it off. The last rays of the sun were coming through the window, but it was spring, so dusk would last for a little while. “No. I definitely don’t believe that everyone deserves forgiveness. There are some really bad people out there.”
Hervé realized what a self-centered prick he was being again because it was absurd that he’d compare his selfish behavior to true human monsters. But he was still in that cycle of seeking validation because he didn’t know where he was going to settle on the scale of worthy once all was said and done.
“I believe that average people like you and me,” Orion said slowly, turning to look at him, “deserve forgiveness. They might not get it, but those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”
Hervé had to dig deep in his well of English to make all those words make sense, but he got the gist of it. They were heavy, and he was tired, so instead of answering, he opened his car door and stepped out. He heard Orion follow suit, and he didn’t pause on his way up to unlock the cottage and step inside.
