Page 18 of For the Love of Scott
Scott laughs hard. “It’s fine. It’s nice.”
“It’s not nice; it’s embarrassing,” Ben says, the flush on his cheeks bearing out his assertion.
“They love you.”
One side of Ben’s mouth lifts in a half-smile. “Yeah. And they seem to like you well enough. So that’s a good thing.”
“Do they?”
“Uh, huh. I like you too,” he says, his gaze circling the space around Scott.
“What are you—”
Large hands cup his head and warm lips cover his. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” Ben says, resting his forehead on Scott’s. “Let’s get out of here.”
“And go where?”
“We can go back to the house if you want. Misty sleeps like the dead, and Ma and Dad will probably watch TV in bed.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not.” Having anyone else around while fooling around, no matter how innocent the fooling or how welcoming and accepting the anyones, will stress him out. He’s always had to keep his displays of affection private, and old habits die hard.
“Just to be clear, we’re not…?” Ben’s raised eyebrow ask the question he won’t or can’t give voice.
The thought made his stomach loop, and Scott shook his head. “Ah…no. But I’d rather it just be us.”
“I’ve got no problem with that. I left my bike at the office. Where’s your truck?”
“A couple of blocks over.”
“Let’s go.”
* * *
Barking from the kennel echoes as Scott presses Ben against the door, kissing his mouth, his jaw, his bobbing Adam’s apple, relishing the scrape of Ben’s faint stubble. The pressure of a lean hard body against his own feels so, so good after so long without. His pulse picks up, his breathing shallows as Ben’s hands slide up his arms and cup his jaw, tilt his head a little more to the side, deepens the kiss. The hot wet slide of their mouths is delicious and electric, but something isn’t right.
Scott stills, listens, and pulls back, frowning.
“What is it?” Ben’s chest rises and falls like the bow of a ship in rough seas.
Scott’s own does the same. He shakes his head, frowns, and looks toward the dog yard. Something is off.
“Uh uh. If I did something, you need to say so.”
His gaze snaps to Ben’s, pupils blown, and he shakes his head. “No. God, no. Not you, not this.” He gulps a breath. “I just— Something’s wrong.”
Ben nods. “Okay…” he says, sounding unsure.
Scott presses his lips to Ben’s and then sticks his key in the doorknob and pushes. He listens again. He hasn’t heard Sylvester’s high-pitched arfing mixed in with the other barking. The jangle of the bell over the door hasn’t been immediately followed by the clicking of Sylvester’s nails on the concrete. That isn’t good. It isn’t good at all. His stomach twists.
“Syl—” he tries to holler before his throat takes the rest of the word hostage.
“Scott, what is it?” asks Ben, his forehead creasing in concern.
Scott flips on the lights and they both blink in the sudden brightness compared to just the muted colors of the Christmas lights he’d hung last weekend.
Another round of barking comes from the kennels.
“It’s my dog.” His words are choked as he scans the room.
