Desperate Enemies 3 Adam Carpenter (books like beach read .TXT) 📖

how skinny Marc was looking lately, not that he was anywhere near being fat prior to his new obsession with jogging a couple times a day. He supposed it was Marc's way of avoiding him. He poured coffee, made his way out onto the porch, where the cool morning air attacked his bare skin. He was about to retreat inside for a robe when he saw his neighbor, Paolo, making his way up the pathway.

“You putting on a show for us all?” Paolo asked.

“Uh, yeah, I suppose,” Rich said, “let me go put on some clothes.”

“Don't dress up on my account,” Paolo said, “remember, I've seen even more.”

“Well, someone's feeling frisky again.”

“I miss Aaron, I always will. But my heart is still beating.”

“Don't you mean throbbing?”

“Bitch.”

They laughed together, the playful sound nice on this fresh day. Rich offered up a cup of coffee, Paolo accepted quickly enough to make Rich believe his neighbor had come over with an agenda. Settled at the kitchen table, Rich scratched absently at his stubble while Paolo took a sip of his hot drink.

“What's on your mind?” Rich asked.

“What makes you think. . . shit, why bother. You're good at reading people.”

“Your eyes, they may be a beautiful brown, but somehow I can see through them.”

“It's last night, all that stuff that came out. Who knew Eldon Court had such a history?”

“Still doesn't solve our problem.”

“That's what I wanted to talk about.”

“How so?”

“I offered to sell my house to Danvers Converse.”

Rich almost spit out his coffee. “You did what?”

“And then I slept with Troy Saunders.”

Good thing he'd set his cup aside. “The kid?”

“He's no kid anymore,” Paolo said. “He picked me up at the Bayside's patio bar, didn't even know who I was or what my connection was to his. . . guardian. He was the first guy I slept with since Aaron. And I know, it may seem like I didn't wait that long to get my rocks off, but I've been so down, so confused about how to move forward, I just wanted a release. . . I wanted out. Out from Eldon Court and all the trouble—I mean, look at all that its cost me. As for the sex, I was feeling the booze and heck, he was cute and. . .”

“You don't have to explain yourself to me,” Rich said with a noticeable pause, images of the two of them engaged in sweaty, urgent sex. Not just them but other images, of Aaron, of Parker, the cute nurse from the hospital, all of them playing to his pleasures, everyone but Marc. “I'm not exactly Mr. Pure. What I don't understand is why you're telling me all this, and why now?”

“Like I said, it's about what was said last night. What Gerald Green mentioned about being true to ourselves, to stop all the cheating and lying. Only by banding together can we defeat Converse. . . I know we've all tried, but we've let things get in the way. We may be under siege from the outside, but we've also been captive to our desires. Four gay couples and one hot stranger in Parker St. John living in close proximity, the pool parties, the booze, lots of exposed skin, we've enjoyed ourselves—almost to the point of self-destruction. Look at Sawyer and Dane, their lives were very nearly destroyed by their secrets.”

“I agree, we can all do better,” Rich said. “Where do we start?”

“With me coming clean. About what I know.”

Silence settled between the two of them, Rich feeling the room darken. Either clouds had moved in, hiding the sun, or his pupils had narrowed with the notion of oncoming bad news. He swallowed the last of his coffee, pushed the cup out of the way with too much force, watching as it slid to the floor and shattered.

“Okay, I'll take that as an omen,” Rich said, “so, Paolo, spill it.”

“It's about Marc.”

“So I gathered.”

“Those jogs he goes on, he's not really jogging.” Paolo paused, Rich said nothing. “He's fucking Parker.”

Rich heard the words, felt them bounce off his skin as though they couldn't possibly be true, they could not penetrate the thick muscles or the pelt upon his chest. Yet his heart suddenly beat faster, a band of sweat broke out on his forehead. “Marc. . . and Parker? You've not serious. I mean, I know I'm a bastard and a cheat but Marc is good, he'd never give it thought, much less be tempted by. . .” Then his jaw clamped up. Marc's distance, his anger at Rich—was revenge really a part of his make-up, or had Rich created it with his own betrayals? The night of the gallery opening, Rich and Parker had indulged in a power struggle of sex; it had meant nothing beyond wanting to assume control of the battle for Eldon Court. He pictured that beast, so hairy, his huge cock so thick. . . there was no doubt Parker loved showing off his hot body to anybody who would look, but would Marc really give in to his advances?

“He wouldn't,” Rich said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Where is Marc now?” Paolo asked.

“I haven't seen him yet this morning,” Rich said. “I assumed he was out for a jog. . .”

Just then Rich shot up from the table, his bare feet stepping on a sharp piece of the cracked mug. Blood oozed from the fresh wound, but he didn't stop, not for the pain, not for the crimson trail he was leaving in his wake. Anger fueling him, he headed out the front door and down the porch stairs. Paolo gave chase, calling out his name, but Rich ignored him as he strode determinedly down the cul-de-sac. Gone from his mind was the fact that he was nearly naked, but if what Paolo had said was true then what Rich was about to discover had him decidedly in the category of over-dressed.

* * * *

“I came to say good-bye, you know. . . to this.”

“This?”

“You know