Losing My Religion Read online

  So, no, no man will ever be good enough for her. I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve always been a bit…overprotective when it comes to her. But I was old enough at the time to remember my dad leaving. I remember how much she cried. How long it took for her to be herself again. And, even then, there has always been a piece of her I can tell she keeps guarded from the rest of the world. Everyone, except for me. I’ve always been the only man in her life. And I know it sounds like I’m being a petulant four-year-old—hell, maybe I am—but the thought of that being taken away from me scares me.

  “Q,” she says softly, her voice laced with love and concern.

  Did I mention that, on top of the whole angel-fairy princess, my mom is also psychic? Even from two thousand miles away, she’s able to discern my thoughts without me having to speak a word. She takes that whole mother’s-instinct thing to a whole new level.

  “Baby, you know how much I love you. You’ll always be the most important person in my life. Always. But you’re off, living your life in California. Don’t you think I deserve a little fun? A little happiness?”

  God, I’m a selfish prick.

  “Nobody deserves it more than you, Mom. Sorry I overreacted. I was just caught off guard. A little warning would be nice next time, eh?” I say with a chuckle.

  She blows out an exasperated breath. “Well, hell, I can’t say I blame you. That wasn’t exactly an ideal way to break the news to you that I’m considering seeing someone, was it?”

  “Not exactly.”

  We spend the next few minutes catching up. She assures me that she’s fine. The only reason she didn’t call me sooner is because she wanted to give me time and space to adjust to my new place. Plus, Jason has been keeping her rather busy in the evenings, wining and dining her across Atlanta. She’s right; he does sound like a decent guy. Still not good enough for my mama but decent nonetheless.

  We promise not to let as much time go by between calls. I hang up the phone with a smile on my face. Until I look at the clock and realize there’s still two hours before I need to get ready for work. Ascent doesn’t pick up until the after-dinner rush, especially not on a weeknight. So, it’s rare that I’m scheduled to go in before eight. I’m torn between elation that I have a couple of hours before I have to face Rick again and complete and utter boredom because I have nothing to do until I go to work.

  I pick my phone up again. Angry Birds, it is.

  I hate this fucking game. It pisses me off beyond words, those stupid-ass pigs looking at me with their stupid-ass faces when I fail yet again to knock their stupid asses over. I yell and scream and throw my phone across the room eleven billion times. Yet, for some reason, I can’t seem to stop playing the damn thing. You don’t even want to know how many hours I’ve wasted in the bathroom, not able to get up until I’ve finally defeated the level I’m on. Let’s just say, sometimes, it takes a while. A long while.

  I’m right in the middle of a phone-throwing tantrum when there’s a knock at the door. I tap the black bird I’ve just launched, watching as it explodes into several smaller birds before hitting the structure and those fucking pigs. Three of the four collapse instantly, the fourth teetering for a second before settling right back where it was.

  Fuck a duck.

  I toss my phone on the bed next to me, climbing to my feet to go answer the door. Whoever this is, they’d better have cookies. If not, I might just be inspired to form my own Angry Birds game right outside my living room window.

  “If you’re not a Hollywood legend or a Girl Scout, you might want to rethink your decision of knocking on my door!” I shout, finding myself way too amusing for my own good. I swing the door wide with a smile, the grin dropping and my brows furrowing when I see who’s standing there.

  Elder Fisher.

  And Barkey Boy.

  Just as quickly as it vanished, the smile reappears on my face. Barker is in his usual attire—black slacks, white button-down, thin black tie. His little nameplate is fastened to his shirt pocket, and he has his black messenger bag slung across his chest—a chest he’s yet to fully grow into but promises to be something to see in a few years. He looks so innocent. So young. So positively tempting.

  “Good evening, fellas. What can I do for you?” I say, leaning a hip against the doorjamb as I fold my arms across my chest.

  To my dismay, Fisher speaks, once again pushing Barker into the background. This dude has some serious control issues.

  “Elder Barker and I wanted to come up and see if there might be a time we could schedule a meeting with you. We know you’re terribly busy. But considering some…recent events,” he says, covering the words with a cough, “we feel you’d really benefit from hearing what we have to say. We think, if you’d just keep an open mind and hear us out, you might really discover a whole new world for yourself. A world full of the Lord’s blessings.”

  I lift the corner of my mouth in an amused smile. Does this guy practice this shit in the mirror every day? He says it with such a straight face that I can’t help but wonder. And I can totally see him down there, giving himself a pep talk every morning, grinning at his reflection, as he rehearses his speech. I’m sure he even gives himself praise. You’re so great, Elder Fisher. You’re so handsome. Nobody can resist your words.

  Well, I’ve got news for you, buddy. None of those statements are true.

  Sure, he might be a decent-looking dude. But, the second he opens that gaping mouth, any semblance of attractiveness flies right out the window. Along with the attention span of anyone who’s unfortunate enough to be within hearing distance.

  He disapprovingly stares at me as I take him in, my eyes flicking between him and Elder Barker. Fisher’s lips are curled back off his teeth, as if even being in the same vicinity as me is making him sick. That’s all the clue I need to know what he meant by recent events.

  As I kissed Ross last night, seeing Barker’s eyes on me is permanently ingrained in my mind. There was no mistaking the look I saw on his face, his lids hooded, his bottom lip pulled in between his teeth. It was pure hunger. Curiosity. He wanted his to be the body I tasted. And I would’ve been more than happy to comply.

  He disappeared far too quickly though. And, afterward, I was no longer in the mood. I couldn’t stop thinking about Barker and the way he’d watched me, and that wasn’t fair to Ross.

  Ross is a good guy. He and I run in the same crowd, so I always see him out whenever I am partying with my friends. One night, we got to talking and realized how much we had in common. We tried going out on a few dates, but there was one problem. Despite how alike we were and how easy it was to talk to him, there just wasn’t any spark. We both decided it would be better to remain friends…with benefits. There’s so much nasty shit being passed around in the streets of Los Angeles. Ross and I are both clean—though we still take precautions each time. It’s just nice, having someone who can come over, chat a bit, maybe have a couple beers, and then be able to let off some steam. I don’t care who you are; sex is the best stress-reliever there is. Anyone who says otherwise is a fucking liar. Or a virgin. So far, it’s worked out great. We both know it won’t develop into anything more. And, if one of us is lucky enough to find the person who ignites that spark we’re both searching for, we’ll walk away, no questions asked. It might not be ideal, but it works for us.

  Even still, it wouldn’t be cool to fuck my friend while thinking of the guy who lives beneath me. I apologized to Ross, telling him the complete truth. I told him all about the Mormon missionary who’d moved in downstairs last week. And how, even though we’d only had a few brief interactions, I couldn’t seem to get him off my mind.

  “I don’t even know his first name, dude. Why in the hell is this guy all I can think about when I know absolutely nothing about him?”

  Ross just shrugged. “I don’t know, man. Sometimes, you just know things are different. It doesn’t have to make sense. But you owe it to yourself to explore it.”

  Blinking back to t
he present and the two men standing before me, I realize how hard it’s going to be to explore anything with Barker when he always has a babysitter around. A babysitter who, if the look he’s currently giving me is any indication, would not look too kindly on his companion having any alone time with me.

  “Sure, boys,” I say, stepping away from the door and gesturing to the room behind me. “I’ve got a few minutes now. Why don’t you come on in? Make yourselves comfortable.”

  When Fisher steps into the room and realizes the only place to sit is on the bed, he seems to rethink his decision.

  I plop down onto it and pat the space beside me. “Come on. I won’t bite.”

  Fisher’s eyebrow arches, as if he thinks that’s exactly what I’ll do. And, fine, maybe he’s right. But only if that’s what Barker is into.

  Fisher glances around the room, his eyes landing on the tiny table and two stools I found at a secondhand store that now make up my kitchen table. He stalks over, grabbing both stools before planting them in front of the bed. He and Barker take their seats, sliding the black messenger bags they both wear over their heads.

  “Can I get you guys something to drink? I’ve got a six-pack of Bud in the fridge.”

  If possible, Fisher’s sneer curls up even more. “We don’t drink. We also don’t have a lot of time. How about, for today, we just start with a prayer, and then we’ll leave you with The Book of Mormon and some pamphlets? We can schedule a time in the next couple of days to come back and answer any questions you might have.”

  I nod. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Elder Fisher unzips his bag, fishing around inside for a moment before his shoulders droop. “I don’t have any more Book of Mormons. Elder Barker, how about you?”

  Barker unzips his bag and looks inside for a second. “Nope. I’m all out.”

  Fisher looks between the two of us before his eyes move to the door. “If you’ll excuse us for a moment, Quinn, we just need to run downstairs and grab a few. I’m glad we caught it before we went out again. At least we can get them easily.”

  My eyes land on Barker. If I can get Fisher to go downstairs alone, it would be the perfect opportunity to talk to him about last night.

  And, as if the same thought occurs to him, Barker turns to Fisher and says, “Why don’t I get started? I’ll give Quinn a quick overview of what we do and what to expect over the next couple of weeks. Then, you can lead us in a closing prayer, and we can wrap things up.”

  Fisher looks skeptical, as if the thought of leaving Barker here alone with me is akin to leaving him with a known serial killer who’s already sharpening his knives.

  Barker sees the apprehension on his face. “It’ll just take a second. And we don’t have any time to waste. We’ve got to be at Andy’s in half an hour.”

  Fisher’s eyes narrow as he looks at me.

  Barker lays a hand on his forearm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be fine. You’ll be gone for two minutes. We’re wasting time here.”

  Fisher finally gets to his feet. “I’ll be right back. If you need anything, just yell. I’ll be back up before you know it.”

  Jesus, what the fuck does this guy think I’m going to do?

  Barker and I both watch as Fisher walks out the front door, leaving it wide open behind him.

  I climb off the bed and close it. “Don’t want to let out all the cool air.”

  Barker nods, his face tightening and his eyes falling now that we’re alone together. He seems nervous.

  I walk over to the stool Fisher just vacated, taking a seat next to him. I turn my body, so it’s facing his, my knees just millimeters from his legs. “I saw you last night.”

  Barker doesn’t raise his eyes to mine. “I don’t know what you mean,” he croaks out, his voice raspy and deep.

  I smile at his unease. “Yes, you do. You were watching me. Out on the street.”

  “I just…I heard a noise, is all. I wanted to see what it was.”

  “Then, why’d you stay and watch?”

  His face turns a deep shade of crimson. “I-I…”

  “It’s okay, Barker. I didn’t mind being watched.”

  At the husky tone in my voice, he finally lifts his gaze, his eyes meeting mine. I can still see the nerves written all over his face, but he doesn’t seem spooked. He’s nervous, yes, but he’s more intrigued than scared by my words.

  I take a chance, reaching my hand out and placing it on his thigh. I gently squeeze it, massaging my thumb into the muscled flesh. “Have you ever kissed a man before, Barker?”

  He inhales with an audible gasp, the breath catching in his throat, as goose bumps spread across his skin. When he doesn’t protest my touch, I try to take it a step further, moving my hand up his thigh. I can feel him trembling beneath my touch, but he doesn’t try to stop me. I won’t push it too far. Though I can’t deny I’m enjoying the thrill of just being this close to him.

  My eyes scan his face as he watches my hand work over his thigh. When his tongue darts out and licks his bottom lip, I almost lose it. I need to taste those lips. I need my tongue to be the one moistening the pink flesh.

  Leaning into him, I hear his breath catch once again as he realizes what I’m about to do. I hesitate, giving him another chance to stop it. I don’t want to do anything he’s not a willing party to. But he doesn’t say anything, his labored breathing nearing my own face as he leans into me.

  “I’m going to kiss you, Barker,” I rasp, my voice so thick with desire that you could almost cut it with a knife.

  And it’s a good thing I’m sitting down. Just the thought of my lips on his has my dick hard as a rock. And, though Barker seems to be enjoying my touch and my company, something tells me he’s not quite ready for that yet. Just seeing the bulge in my jeans might be enough to spook him off for good.

  Barker’s eyes close as he nears my face, his tongue once again swiping over his lips.

  I need that tongue in my mouth.

  I lift my hand to his face, running my thumb across the soft skin of his cheek. But, just as I lean in to close the tiny distance between us, footsteps pound up the stairs outside my apartment.

  Barker springs away from me so quickly, you’d think he’d been shocked. I’ve never seen someone move so fast. He’s up and over by the window as Fisher throws open my door.

  “Why was this closed? I left it open.”

  I shrug, moving back over to my bed and pulling my pillow onto my lap. There’s no way in hell I want Fisher seeing the evidence of what he so rudely interrupted. As it is, I already kind of want to maim him for barging in on us just before I could get a taste. Having him fling his derogatory comments around would only worsen my already-foul mood.

  “Didn’t want to let the cool air out. I don’t pay to air-condition the whole neighborhood,” I say, pulling a line my dad used to use all the time when I was a kid. “Were you born in a barn?” I add, again thanks to my father.

  Fisher’s eyes narrow as he looks at me. I smile, giving him a little flutter of my fingertips. He responds with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. Somebody needs to teach this dude some manners. Judy K would have a coronary if she saw him.

  Barker is still looking out the window, ignoring our exchange. When Fisher joins him, he turns and grabs his bag, taking some of the blue books from Fisher’s hand and stuffing them inside. He tosses one on my bed. “Here. Try giving this a read. We’ll come back in a few days and chat some more.”

  Fisher picks up his bag, still watching me with a disdainful eye.

  Barker pats him on the back. “Come on, Elder. We’d better get going.”

  He holds the door open for Fisher as he walks out, stepping out right behind him. Just before he pulls the door shut behind him, he throws me one last look. The smile on his face tells me all I need to know.

  This isn’t the end for Barker and me.

  Oh no, this is only the beginning.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  * * *

  Jaden<
br />
  I am the worst missionary in the history of the LDS church.

  I hate tracting. I hate teaching. I hate proselytizing.

  I hate all the walking. I hate all the rude people.

  And I hate my companion. Yeah, I said it.

  But, even more than all of that, the thing that makes me a terrible missionary is the fact that I can’t stop thinking about the man who lives upstairs.

  And the fact that, two nights ago, after my companion fell asleep, I did the one thing I was never supposed to do while on my mission. Okay, that’s a lie. There’s a whole list of things I’m never supposed to do while out in the field. But this? This is at the top of that list.

  As Elder Fisher lay in his own twin bed next to me, his soft snores filling the air, I’d reached into my pajama pants, running my fingers past the sacred garments I’d been wearing ever since taking out my endowments in the temple, and I’d touched myself. I’d palmed my throbbing cock, my hand squeezing and rubbing the velvety, rock-hard flesh until I’d come.

  Hard.

  The reason I came harder than I ever had in my entire life?

  Quinn Owens.

  The thought of Quinn’s face only inches from mine, his warm breath coming in soft, short bursts against my lips. The feel of his hand pressing into my thigh and then against my cheek.

  I’d gripped myself hard, imagining the soft flesh wrapped around my length was his hand instead of my own. As I’d worked my palm over my erection, I’d envisioned the scene from earlier in the day. Only this time, Fisher hadn’t shown up and interrupted us. I’d pictured Quinn’s mouth on mine, his full lips gentle yet fierce against my own, his tongue tangled with mine, as his hands caressed my body. I’d imagined what those rough patches on the pads of his fingers would feel like as they explored me, the rugged skin scratching against the delicate, unexplored skin of my chest. I’d nearly sent myself over the edge as I’d reached up with my other hand, tweaking the tender bud of my nipple with my fingertips, wishing it was Quinn’s teeth there instead.