Road to Love (Triple R Book 4) Read online

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2016 Jules Dixon

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-084-0

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Lisa Petrocelli

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  Love is a divine emotion to be appreciated as intimate and instinctive.

  Love is beautiful to witness and savor.

  Love is always love and always will be.

  This book is dedicated to love, may love overcome and eradicate hate.

  With all my love to you,

  Jules

  ROAD TO LOVE

  Triple R, 4

  Jules Dixon

  Copyright © 2016

  Chapter One

  Holt

  “Want some company?”

  Crave your company, Aston. Just wish the feeling was mutual.

  “I won’t argue to havin’ another body in the room.” I returned to my paperwork.

  He sat in the chair beside my desk. The citrus scent of his shower gel and the musk of a man who had done a hard day’s work had my heart pumping my blood just a little faster through my body.

  We completed our normal interaction about the day and what was happening in the world outside the Middle East sandbox we called our temporary home.

  “Can I ask you something?” He leaned forward resting his elbows on his long legs.

  “What?” I listened but focused on finishing a task.

  “Are you gay?”

  I dropped my pen. “That’s not an appropriate question.”

  “Why not?”

  “‘Cause that’s my business. Not yours.”

  “What if I want to make you my business, Holt?”

  That was the first time he’d called me anything other than Lieutenant Jamison. Looking him up and down, I struggled to determine if what he was saying was actually what I thought he was saying.

  My breathing became shallow as my heart raced like the Kentucky Derby winner was inside my chest. “I am…” I swallowed and took a deep breath. “Gay.”

  “Why the long pause?”

  I returned to my translating. “Definitely sure that isn’t any of your business, Lieutenant Aston.”

  I wasn’t ashamed of who I was, but the words weren’t easy to say out loud. I’d hid my truth from my family for so many years. Lingering guilt and a healthy dose of self-preservation made me reticent to share the truth.

  He pushed from the chair. Stepping into the doorway, he leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chiseled chest. On most people, I’d consider the move to be arrogant and unfriendly, but on this soldier it made him interesting and alluring.

  My mind wandered wondering what his thin hands would feel like skimming my body. How my large rough hands would encircle his runner’s-thin waist, how his slender frame would fit against my own, and how the curves of his muscles would complement mine. My heart thumped in my chest and my insides jumped like a frog on hot concrete.

  He raised his voice. “I’m bisexual, Holt. I like you, but I’m tired of waiting until you find your testicles and make a move on me. If you ever want to find out where the attraction between us could lead, you come find me.”

  My head reeled back. Turning on his brown boot heels, he and his military-issue desert-brown camo-capped head were gone.

  I’d known Oliver Aston for about a year and in that time he’d banged about every female contractor or off-duty colleague who came sniffing around, then talked up his conquests trying to impress the other male soldiers with innuendo of his escapades. I wasn’t impressed. That behavior didn’t scream “gentleman” or “stud” to me. It only indicated a person compensating for something, but since I was usually just a day-visitor to his base station, I only had to ignore him on occasion.

  But then something changed.

  Turned out I had to spend six months at his base station on an assignment. Our paths crossed about once a day, sometimes more. I started taking notice of him and that there just might be more to the white-haired wonder. Granted, the gods had gifted him with looks. His oval face, his high cheekbones and his eyes, those crystal blue eyes were half crackling ice and half burning heat. Over time, my attraction matured past his appearance. Eventually, his cocky attitude grew on me like moss on the side of a barn, hard to tell how the invader started, but it wasn’t worth stopping nature from taking its course.

  Then the dreams started. I reprimanded myself for even thinking he could be anything to me. His clear message of his hetero orientation told me to stop my overactive imagination. But as my stay went on, his tales of conquering became fewer and fewer and his visits to my office became more frequent. He started to make himself comfortable inside the room, not just in the doorway. He would walk into my office, rounding behind my chair, pausing briefly behind me before continuing on his wandering journey. There was no reason to imagine his behavior was anything other than extra energy he needed to expend.

  But after that exhibition, I knew what, or rather who I wanted, but I wasn’t sure about the bisexual thing. It was hypocritical of me to judge his orientation when I hid mine, but to know I might not be enough for my man didn’t sit right with me. If he needed to satisfy some of his needs and get affection from someone else … well, from past experience, I wasn’t one to be used as a doormat. I’d made a scene or two, making my feelings known. I didn’t do it often, but when I did I made a statement and left an occasional broken nose. Leave what’s mine alone.

  When I left the office the sun was setting, creating a burnt orange haze over everything. Deciding a good night’s sleep was really what I needed over food, I headed toward my eight-foot by eight-foot piece of solace on the sandbox. Basically, a room with a bed and air conditioning and not much else, but it was enough.

  Just get a good night’s sleep. He was probably just messing around.

  Until.

  Stepping around the back of the building, my feet shuffled to a stop as my dropped eyes encountered two familiar long legs. My eyes trailed up his body until his icy-blue eyes stared into mine. The reflection of the sunset shined in their expressive depths.

  He moved close and whispered, “I don’t think I can wait for you to find your manhood under whatever issues you have. Let me kiss you, Holt. Just once. If there isn’t something here, we’ll both go our own way and pretend nothing ever happened.”

  I didn’t want to wait to kiss him, but we needed privacy. I grabbed his arm and pulled him inside the building and into my room. The small space should’ve felt cramped but it didn’t. I loved how close we had to stand.

  I moved until our chest muscles pressed together. Lifting his hat off his head, I threw it on my bed with mine. I clasped the back of his neck and guided his lips to me. When we met, there was no denying that “just once” wasn’t going to happen. His soft lips welcomed me like he’d been waiting all his life for me to touch them. I parted his lips with my tongue, and he moaned into my mouth. Our tongues found and teased each other’s. The fluttering of his hands over my chest stirred my cock. The pulse of blood was both invigorating and excruciating. I guided him closer to find if he was having the same reaction. I wasn’t disappointed.

  Breaking the kiss, I inhaled a deep breath a
nd deadpanned, “Well, that’s too bad. I can’t believe I didn’t feel anything. You?”

  His face dropped. “Really?”

  I broke my somber face and chuckled. “Shit, Aston. I’m harder than a cedar post below the belt. I felt somethin’.”

  “Yeah, I felt that, too. But did you feel anything else?” His eyes flashed between mine, asking for the emotional side that I couldn’t offer to him in words.

  I pulled him back to me and kissed him harder. Forcing my tongue into his mouth, I made sure he understood how much I felt for him.

  Again, I broke the passionate kiss. “That make my feelings clear?”

  “Makes it clear that I want more, but how much more are you willing to give me?” His hand brushed my face and rounded my neck. “I saw your reaction when I said bisexual, and I know you’ve heard me talk about my … extracurricular activities … before I was interested in you. Do you have any questions?”

  “I don’t do casual.”

  “That wasn’t a question, but fair enough.”

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t think you understand. I don’t have sex without commitment and that commitment can take longer than most men are willing to wait.”

  “How long before you had sex in your last relationship?

  “Three months.”

  His blue eyes widened. “You went without sex for three months?” He stepped back.

  “Longer, but that’s how long he and I waited after we met. I like to get to know a person first.”

  “My social security number is 505-1—”

  I huffed. “More than that, Aston.” I sat on my bed and leaned forward. “But you’re right about the bisexual thing. I’m not the sharing kind. I’ve been burnt before when a guy split his time with another partner or travels between some random hookup and me. I don’t know if I can put my pride away and settle with the fact that I might not be enough for you.”

  “Here’s an idea. What about we see if we’re compatible in the sack and then go from there? You know, mix up your normal M.O.?”

  By the tone of his voice, he was kidding, but I didn’t find it funny. I wanted him and I wanted him to want me, too, not make jokes.

  I stared up at him. “If you can’t be serious, we can go back to just being colleagues. I’m fine with that.”

  “But I don’t think I’m fine with that.” He sat next to me. “Holt, think about it. We’ve been flirting and getting to know each other for the last six months, at least I have. Ask me something personal about you.”

  He had a point.

  “Okay. If you can answer three out of these four questions correctly, I’ll think about giving you what you really want.”

  What I really want.

  Oliver’s eyes lit up. “Don’t keep a man waiting!”

  I chuckled. “One, where did I go to college?”

  “University of Maryland.”

  That’s right. Maybe something a little more difficult.

  “Two, what are two of my ten nieces’ and one of my six nephews’ names?”

  “Nieces are Keely, Marabelle, and River. Nephews are Gage, Winston, and Malloy. And I think I could name the ten others, too. You talk about them … a lot.”

  Guess I do.

  I nudged his shoulder with mine. “Family is important to me.”

  “Then why do I get the feeling there are people close to you who don’t know the real truth?”

  I stared at the picture of my family tacked on the wall to my left. “Mostly upbringing and religious beliefs on their side, and fear of losing them on my side.”

  “I can see that. But just like you might not be able to stomach that I enjoy the touch and scent of a woman, a partner who can’t admit who he genuinely is—that’s as hard for me to stomach.”

  I stood. “Well, then I guess that decides it. I can understand that’s who you are and I wouldn’t want you to change for me. Plus, I’m not ready to tell my family, Oliver, so maybe it’s better we just move forward without the complications a relationship might bring with it.”

  Oliver lay back on the bed and scooted across the small mattress until his back was against the wall. He stared up at me. Every inch of me craved to lie on top of him and feel him under me, but in my mind we’d reached an impasse.

  “What are you doin’?” I asked.

  “Trying to ignore your bullshit, but mostly, I’m enjoying that damn sexy drawl of yours.”

  “Get outta my quarters, Aston.” I stepped away from the door and pointed.

  The memory of him lying there on my bed, his head resting in the palm of his hand on his crooked arm, was more beautiful than the layered orange, pink, and lavender Nebraska sunset I stared into as I neared the end of the row of corn. That moment had scared me with just how much I wanted him. I turned the combine, following the rows pointing south, and returned to my memories.

  “Just lay down with me, Holt.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why? Because you might want me as much as I want you?”

  “I can control myself, Aston.”

  His light blond eyebrows rose. “Yeah, three months indicates that.” He cleared his throat. “Think about it, Holt. You translate spoken and written word for a living. You read inflection into people’s voices and meaning into syllables. But the crap you spewed from your mouth about not being ready to be honest with yourself and your family and about the complications of a relationship was fucking indecipherable. Relationships need trust, honesty, communication, and effort. I’m willing to do my part on all four. Are you willing to do yours?”

  “I’m not comin’ out to my family from Afghanistan, Oliver.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to, but we go the distance, and I’d expect it to happen when we’re back in the States.”

  “And you only answered two of the four questions, so your ability to communicate is questionable.”

  He smiled. “Hit me with three and four.”

  “What’s my middle name?”

  “I’m sorry, what did you say? You need to lay next to me so I can hear you.”

  I stripped my boots and helped him with his.

  Lying next to him, I rested my head against my forearms crossed behind my neck. “Okay, what’s my middle name?”

  He leaned into me and kissed my neck. I was too lost in the way the scorching supple wetness of his lips rubbed against the stubble that had grown over the day to worry about him answering my question, but I had to keep a hold on the situation. There was a current flowing between us that was bound to electrocute us both, if one of us didn’t have the awareness to pull the plug. But how his hand rounded my neck and his thumb stroked lightly below my ear, while his tongue flicked across my other earlobe, made me forget my question.

  I shook my head. “Oliver, what’s my middle name?”

  “Give me three guesses, please,” he rumbled against my neck.

  I moaned and nodded as his long, talented tongue flicked across my Adam’s apple and up my chin.

  “From your dog tags, I see it starts with an A. My first guess is Alexander.”

  “Nope.” I rolled him onto his back so I could repay the attention to him.

  “Okay, second guess…”

  I traced the outline of his ear with my tongue and Oliver growled his approval.

  I bit the drop of his earlobe and he grunted out, “Adam.”

  “Not. Even. Close.”

  He gripped my biceps, his thin fingers holding me against him. “Jesus, Jamison, my body is screaming everywhere because of you.”

  I chuckled into his neck. “You have one more guess. Make it a good one.”

  “A … a … a … Abraham.”

  I raised my head, my brows furrowing. “Did you just guess Abraham?”

  “Yeah.”

  The air rushed from me as I moved on top of him. “Fuck me, Aston.”

  “So Abraham is your middle name?” He panted as I bit teasingly into his skin at the base of his neck, bel
ow his collar.

  I nodded, brushing my nose against his skin.

  “Did you mean what you said?” he asked.

  “What?” I raised my head to look at him and stroked a finger over his puffy bottom lip while his hands slipped into the waistband of my military-issued desert pants and brushed across my waist.

  “You said ‘Fuck me, Aston.’”

  “I did, didn’t I?”

  His hands slipped in farther and cupped my ass.

  “We can just make out, Jamison.”

  “I don’t think it’ll be enough. I want all of you, Oliver.” I shook saying the words that really meant I wanted him forever.

  “And I want to give you all of me, Holt.”

  I brought my attention back to what I was actually doing. Back in reality, I stopped the combine and adjusted the mass growing in my jeans from thinking about that night and how we’d connected like I never had before. We’d joined not only our bodies, but our souls and hearts, too. Unfortunately, how our lives had gone separate ways wasn’t a daydream. It was a reality that was echoed by country singer, Clint Black, as the gut-wrenching ache of his voice filled the cab of the combine.

  But I had to stop dreaming and concentrate on work before I drove a half-million-dollar piece of equipment into a ditch.

  Aston, someday you and I will meet again.

  Chapter Two

  Oliver

  A curtain of long hair covered the bobbing mouth action of the curvy brunette. Her oral sex talents had my sincere compliments. Her pleasing handgrip and satisfying movement on my cock, plus gratifying fondling of my balls but not crushing them in a vice, was enjoyable.

  Easy with the boys, ladies. Don’t have to tell the guys, they already know the deal.

  The drawn-out licking, significant swirling around the crown, and her solid suctioning was resourceful and pleasant.

  Pleasant? You should punch yourself for thinking that.