CHAPTER THREE

Rather than call that asshole, I click back through the contacts and call Will instead. "Hey, Kurt," he says when he picks up. "Any news?"

I try not to notice the desperate hope in his voice. "Not yet, Im afraid," I say carefully. "But Im still working on it." I feel terrible lying to him like this, but hed be so upset if he knew the truth. I cant bear to add even that much stress on top of what hes already dealing with.

"Youre still out there?" he says. "At this hour?"

I find a loose thread along the edge of the comforter and twist it around my finger. "Thats what Ive called to tell you," I say. "The weathers really bad and the roads flooded. Im not going to be able to make it back tonight."

He immediately switches from over-worked director into over-protective Dad mode despite the fact that hes not actually a father in the slightest. "Are you all right? Do you have somewhere to stay? Is your car okay?"

I give a small smile at his concern. "Im fine," I assure him. "The car, too. Ill try to finish up here in the morning and come straight over after that."

"Are you sure youre all right? You sound... stressed." Even though hes already struggling with so much, hes still concerned about me. It makes me feel even worse.

"Im just tired," I tell him. "Im fine, really."

"Okay, Kurt," he says. "Get some rest, you hear?"

"Of course."

We hang up and I toss my phone on the nightstand. Were going to get through this, he and I. We have to. Aside from my family, hes the closest thing Ive got locally to filling that void and I dont want - no, cant - let him down.

I dont really feel like sleeping now, for all that I told Blaine I was tired. I toss and turn for a little while, but I know its a lost cause. Finally I throw off the comforter and climb out of bed. Im too restless to keep lying here.

I begin to pace around the room, determined to wear myself out. There are plenty of ways to distract myself in here, at least. For a few minutes I stand by the window, trying to spot the hedge maze through the dark and rain, but I dont see anything. Next I wander back into the closet and peruse the electronic directory, looking for the most ridiculous outfit I can find, but I get bored with that pretty quickly.

Which leaves me with only one option: to search for secret doors.

I mean, how often do you find yourself in a house with hidden passages in the walls? Assuming Blaine wasnt pulling my leg, of course. Im one of only a handful of people who will ever get to see the inside of this place; its my public duty to explore the possibility of secret passageways. Or so my exhausted, sleep-deprived mind tells me.

I start at the main door and work my way around the room. I find a flat screen television hidden behind a mirror and a mini-fridge behind a panel near the bathroom. Apparently rich people like to hide their conveniences behind expensive decorative items. But I find no doors in the walls, nor any buttons or levers hidden under shelves or behind lamps. I spend a while at the electronic tablet next to the bed, but though I discover a radio, house directory, and even a weather-reporting application among its options, theres no magic "open sesame" button.

I come to the elaborate fireplace last. If this were a fantasy or kids cartoon, the fireplace would be the key. The carved stone mantel is ridiculously ornate; all it should take is the right amount of pressure on the right decorative leaf and a doorway will open up behind the gas logs. Ive seen it a hundred times.

I work my way from right to left along the mantel, pushing and prodding every bit of stone.

Nothing moves. When Ive poked at every leaf and twist of vine, I go back in the opposite direction, trying everything again. Just in case.

Nothing happens.

Ill admit it—Im a little disappointed. If there are actually secret passageways in this house, none of them appear to start in this room. I step away from the mantel, and in the process I trip over the rack with the fireplace poker.

"Mother fuc—" I break off my curse when I hear the scrape of wood and stone behind me. I stand and turn. You cannot be fucking serious. A portion of the wall has swung inward, revealing a dark hallway beyond. A secret passageway. An actual secret-fucking-passageway. Blaine wasnt lying after all.

I walk over and peer inside. The corridor is pitch black. I cant tell how long it is or which direction it ultimately leads.

But dark or not, theres no way Im not going exploring.

I run back to the bed and grab my cell from the nightstand. Hopefully the light from its screen will be enough to keep me from falling and breaking my neck.

I cant believe Im actually doing this, I think. But then again, I never expected to break onto the Andersons property or wear their clothes or eat their food. I never expected to sleep in one of their giant, fluffy beds. No turning back now, I tell myself. I hit a button on my phone to bring the screen to life, and then I step into the darkness of the passage.

I move slowly along the passage, the phone held out in front of me. The faint blue glow from the screen is just enough to keep me from walking into the walls. The corridor twists and turns ahead of me, and after five minutes Ive already completely lost my bearings. I have no idea which direction Im going or where I might end up. My only consolation is that theres only one way back, so its unlikely Ill get too lost.

As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I begin to notice other details. At regular intervals along the walls, for example, I start spotting small, nondescript door handles. Some have even been brushed with pale paint, making them easier to spot among the shadows. I stop at one and give it a wiggle. The door creaks open, revealing the dark room beyond.

Part of me wants to venture out into the room, but another part feels weird poking around without Blaine. I step back into the passage and pull the door closed behind me. I tell myself I should turn around and go back to my bedroom, but something drives me onward. I want to see where this secret corridor leads.

Its only a few minutes later that I discover the first set of spy holes.

At first, I think Im imagining things, but its hard to miss the slivers of light that fall across my path. Theres a pair of narrow slits in the wall, right at eye level, and theyre too perfectly round to be cracks. I step closer and look through them. On the other side, I can see a long, dimly lit hallway. It appears to be empty.

Were these passages really just to hide the servants? Geez, I feel like Im suddenly in the middle of a murder mystery or something. Is someone suddenly going to spring from the shadows and bop me over the head with a candlestick?

I continue along the passage, but now Im on the lookout for more spy holes. Theyre harder to spot when theyre looking onto a dark room, but I find a set that offers me a view of an unlit office, then a couple of pairs revealing bedrooms. Theres not much to see, really, but still the entire thing feels deliciously wicked. I can only imagine a couple of reasons for why people would want spy holes looking into bedrooms.

And thats when I find Blaines room.

His lights are still on, so I spot the holes long before I even hear the hum of the television or his own movements around the room. I know its wrong, but I cant resist taking a peek. My heart thumps in my ears as I press my hands against the wall and bring my eyes to the small openings in the paneling.

Im struck immediately by the sleek modernity of his room. The walls are a pale steely blue, the furniture sleek and black. The flat screen television mounted on the far wall is flashing the local news.

Blaine moves across the room, a towel around his waist.

Damn.

His dark hair is wet, and it curls delectably against his neck. I try not to ogle his bare chest dusted with a light amount of hair, but its hard to ignore. Hes quite muscular, from his broad shoulders to his chiseled waist. Ive seen pictures in the tabloids, of course, but a grainy photograph is nothing compared to Blaine in the flesh.

And just a couple of hours ago, he hinted he wanted to take you to bed, I remind myself. I could be in there with him right now, if I wanted, with my fingers running across those smooth muscles. I could—

I jerk back from the spy holes. What am I even thinking? I hate this guy. Okay, so hes moderately attractive. Ive already acknowledged that to myself. But I made the right decision. I dont regret turning him down.

Still, I cant keep myself from moving my eyes to the spy holes again, nor can I ignore the heat that rushes up my neck.

Hes a selfish bastard, I remind myself. He turns, and I have a clear view of his perfectly sculpted back.

Damn. Im in trouble.

He wanders over to a cabinet at the side of the room and pulls out a bottle of amber liquid. I watch his every movement, breathless, as he pours himself a glass. He takes it down in one swig and slams the glass down against the table. Then he lets out a long sigh and runs his hand through his hair. My own fingers tingle as I imagine wrapping them around those dark, wet strands, then sliding down his—

NO. What the hell am I doing? I have more self-control than this.

But Im drawn back to the spy holes like a magnet. Try as I might to deny it, I can no longer lie to myself: Blaine is an extremely attractive man, asshole or not.

Not just attractive, I think as I watch him pour himself another glass. Insanely-fucking-sexy.

Id like to think that Im different from all the other men who seem to just fall at his feet. That I wont allow myself to be distracted by pecs and abs and toned biceps. That I wont allow myself to be taken in by a jerk who just happens to have a charming smile. Ive been there with Adam. I wont make the same mistake a second time.

But theres no reason I cant fantasize a little, I tell myself. Ill never actually let him touch me.

Blaines still standing next to the sideboard, his hand on his glass. His shoulders are tense, his muscles tight, his eyes focused on some invisible distance. I itch to go in there, to rub his shoulders and help him relax, but I quickly fight down the urge. Its no wonder hes tense, after the way hes handled the Center—and undoubtedly other organizations as well.

But in spite of myself, I imagine my fingers sliding over his chest, tracing those smooth muscles, sliding down the hard shape of his body. I want to feel the heat of him, know the velvet softness of his skin beneath my touch. My heartbeat quickens as I picture the path my fingers would take across his flesh.

Blaine is completely oblivious to my thoughts. After a moment he turns and moves back toward the bed, glass in hand. I watch his muscles shift beneath his skin as he moves.

He puts his drink on the nightstand and picks up an electronic tablet. He turns toward the television and presses the tablet screen a few times. The channel changes with every tap of his finger. When hes found something he likes, he sets the tablet back on the nightstand. His hand moves to his towel.

My breath catches in my throat as he pulls it away from his waist. Suddenly hes completely naked, and I have a full-on view of his backside.

Dear sweet mother of pearl.

Hes a freaking god.

A moan from the television is the only thing that could tear my eyes away from that hard body. I glance up at the flat screen, and my heart just about stops when I realize whats hes watching. There are two naked men on the screen, and ones straddling the other, his hands roaming over his partners chest towards his dick.

I jerk away from the spy holes again. I know I shouldnt be shocked—people watch porn, after all. Ive watched porn, though honestly I prefer romance novels to sleazy movies most of the time. But its one thing to watch a dirty film in the privacy of my apartment and quite another to watch a gorgeous man watch porn from a secret passageway.

I lean against the wall. Through the paneling, I can hear more moans and heavy breathing coming from the television. I also hear the soft give of a mattress—Blaine climbing into bed.

I should go. This is wrong, standing hear listening to this, spying on Blaine as he... as he... But I cant seem to move my feet. My blood is rushing in my ears. Theres an ache beginning to form between my legs, and it keeps me frozen against the wall.

In the bedroom, I hear Blaine exhale a long breath. One of the men on the television begins moaning. I cant help it. Im drawn to the spy holes once more.

Blaine lounges on the bed, his hand around his long, hard length. My entire body goes hot at the sight of him touching himself. His hand slides steadily up and down. The ache between my legs sharpens into a throbbing.

I should go, but its too late now. Im riveted by the sight in front of me. I cant turn away. I slip the hand that doesnt hold my phone beneath the waistband of my pajama bottoms. My fingers slide between my legs, seeking the evidence of my building frustration. Im already hard, and my flesh quivers at even that first, light touch.

My eyes move to the television again. The man on top leans forward and closes his mouth around his partners nipple. My cock stiffens more as I hear the moans come from the screen and a harsh breath come from Blaines mouth. What would Blaine do if he knew I was here? If he knew I was growing aroused at the same movie he watched, at the sight of his hand around himself?

I slide my phone into my pocket and move the hand in my pants to tease one of my balls. In my mind its his hand, his fingers groping and relishing in their weight. In my mind Im in his room, next to him on the bed, and its my hand wrapped around him, sliding up and down his length. My aching cock is building to the point of pain.

In the room, Blaines hand begins to pump a little faster. His breathing has quickened with his movements. My own breathing is short and shallow. I cant see his face, but I remember the way his eyes burned into mine, the hunger I saw in their depths. He wanted me. Maybe he wants me still. Maybe its me hes thinking of now, just as Im thinking of him. I move my fully around my length with my fingers around my cock, gripping tightly and jerking expertly in rhythm with Blaines movements.

On the screen, the guys appear to follow my lead. The one on top has moved aside just enough to be able to reach between his partners legs. The other man moans and writhes against him, responding to the weight of the hand rubbing against him.

Blaine makes a sound in his throat. Hes getting close. I am, too. Its all I can do to fight back the moan forming in my own throat. This is wrong, so very wrong, but I cant help myself. I cant remember the last time I was this aroused by anything. The wickedness of it all just makes my body respond all the more.

On the bed, Blaine sucks in a breath. I slump against the wall, no longer able to watch and hold myself upright at the same time. I increase the speed and pressure of the hand on my cock. Im no longer concerned about hiding the heavy sound of my breathing. Im too far-gone to care.

I want him. Fuck it, I want him. I dont care if hes a selfish jerk. I still want him. I want him to throw me up against the wall and ram his fingers, or better yet his cock, inside of me. I want him to make me scream.

Climax hits me hard, rushing over me with such intensity that I let out a moan before I can stop myself. I freeze, my hand still grabbing my now spent dick, waves of pleasure still shuddering through my body. My legs are shaking. I stay against the wall, unable to move, terrified. Theres no way he didnt hear my moan. No way.

I wait for a secret door to come flying open, for Blaine to burst into the passageway and catch me at my spying, but nothing happens. Maybe he thought my sound of pleasure had come from one of the actors on the television. Maybe he was so caught up in his own pleasure that he thought hed imagined it.

The euphoria is fading from me now, and with it reality sets in: I just spied on Blaine while he touched himself. I just watched that, and I was so aroused by the whole thing that I touched myself, too.

I force myself away from the wall. My heart is careening wildly and my legs are still trembling, but I cant stay here. I cant believe what Ive done. I cant believe I let it get this far. I hurry down the passageway, back toward my room.

This never happened, I tell myself. Still, I can tell already that my body wont let me forget this anytime soon.