Free Bonds of Denial by Lynda Aicher Page A

blame the man for dumping him here.
    His abs contracted when Carter slowly turned around. His hands were tucked in his pockets, his head tilted as he contemplated Rock. The darkness hid the expression in his eyes, but the gentle smile went a ways in allowing Rock to breathe. “You really are new to this, aren’t you?”
    The question seemed out of place, and he wasn’t exactly sure what Carter was referring to, but it didn’t really matter since his answer was the same on all fronts. “Yes.”
    “Are you sure about it?”
    “What?”
    “This. Me. Where we’re going.”
    “God, no.” The honest answer shot from him and he sucked in a deep breath. “I mean…yes. With you. I think.” Shit. He sounded like a confused teenager.
    He did want it. Yet if he thought too hard or long about what they were going to do, the blinding fear came rushing back to attack his will. He didn’t want to think about it. It was just supposed to happen and it had been about to happen until he’d opened his floundering trap.
    Carter cupped a hand around Rock’s arm and moved them into the shadows. The foot traffic had died down, leaving them with some semblance of privacy. He stepped closer until there was just an inch of space between them. Rock was certain that if he took one deep inhale, their chests would touch and he really wanted to feel the man pressed against him again, but he could barely breathe.
    The seriousness on Carter’s face was edged by a slight frown. “What’s your story?”
    Rock shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Just like yours.” He tried to back away, but Carter tightened his hold and followed each step until Rock’s back hit the solid cement wall ofthe parking garage.
    Carter scanned his face, his knowing eyes seeming to catch all of Rock’s secrets. He pressed forward, his lips grazing over the line of Rock’s jaw as he spoke. “Maybe it does.”
    The shudder that raked down Rock’s spine lit up every need held bound and contained within him. The smooth surface of Carter’s leather jacket was cold against his palm. When had he gripped Carter’s arm? If he turned his head, would Carter kiss him?
    He smelled so good—rich and musky. What would he taste like?
    Rock yanked his mind back to what Carter had said. A single question tumbled out. “Why?”
    A long breath of warm air trailed up Rock’s neck and his head tipped back, giving Carter more room.
    “Because this…” Carter nipped at the tender skin, the sharp pinch causing Rock to suck in a much-needed gulp of air, “…what is building between us is not just a fuck.”
    A fuck.
    “Get a room, faggots.” The cutting jibe ripped across the cold air and tore through the hazy fog Rock was drifting in. “Butt-fuckers should be exterminated.”
    “Do you got a gun?” a seconded voice slurred. “We could start now.”
    Rock shoved Carter away. Shit . He scanned the sidewalk, stepping forward, fists drawn and ready. The assholes wouldn’t harm Carter. The blood pounded in his ears as a quiet focus descended.
    Just down the street was the stumbling retreat of three men. Their drunken laughter drifted into the darkness and one of them glanced back, pausing long enough to flip Rock off. Another round of slurred digs followed, and Rock was moving before he thought about it.
    “Hey.”
    The firm hold and tug on his arm stopped him. He spun around, ready to pounce, only to find Carter’s calm face filled with concern and worry.
    Carter held his gaze, not backing down or away as Rock got his temper under control. After a moment, he lifted his hand to smooth his fingers over Rock’s frown, the touch effectively eradicating the tension that had pulled across his forehead.
    “They’re only words,” Carter said, his voice low and soothing. “They can’t hurt us.”
    Rock worked his jaw, the remains of the adrenaline rush humming through him. He sniffed and tried to focus on the feel of those soft fingers stroking over his brow. “Words