Once Burned Read online

  Once Burned

  by Alexa Land

  The Firsts and Forever Series 15.5

  U.S. Copyright 2018 by Alexa Land.

  All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission in whole or in part of this publication is permitted without express written consent from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either used fictitiously or are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, business establishments or locales is purely coincidental.

  This gay romance contains adult language and sexually explicit material.

  It is intended for ADULTS ONLY.

  Books by Alexa Land Include:

  Feral (prequel to Tinder)

  The Tinder Chronicles (Tinder, Hunted and Destined)

  And the Firsts and Forever Series:

  1 Way Off Plan

  2 All In

  3 In Pieces

  4 Gathering Storm

  5 Salvation

  6 Skye Blue

  7 Against the Wall

  8 Belonging

  9 Coming Home

  10 All I Believe

  10.5 Hitman’s Holiday (novella)

  11 The Distance

  12 Who I Used to Be

  13 Worlds Away

  13.5 Armor (novella)

  14 All I Ever Wanted

  15 Take a Chance on Me

  15.5 Once Burned (novella)

  Dedicated to

  Ron P.

  Friend and Reader,

  With love

  Acknowledgements

  A big thank you to

  Valerie S.

  For the title suggestion

  Special thanks to

  Tom and Ed

  My two favorite Irishmen

  For the insights

  And thank you

  Lilian

  For a bit of local color

  A million thanks as always to my fantastic team:

  Jera, Melisha, Kim, Ron, Kelly & Amanda

  I truly appreciate your help and support <3

  And thank you to My Firsts & Forever Group on Facebook for keeping me company every step of the way!

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter One

  I’d made a lot of bad decisions in my lifetime, but this was truly the worst of them all.

  What had I been thinking when I let my friend Dante Dombruso talk me into being a part of a gay bachelor auction for his grandmother’s charity? Okay, yes, it was for a good cause. But it was going to be so damn humiliating when no one bid on me.

  And why would they? At thirty-two, I felt run-down and weary, especially compared to all those perky twenty-something bachelors. It didn’t help that I’d spent my entire Saturday at work and hadn’t had time to shave or change before heading to the fundraiser. Not that either of those things would have made much difference.

  Dante was busy checking off names on a clipboard as the other bachelors arrived for the auction, so I saw a window of opportunity and headed for the stairs. But I only made it about two yards before he bellowed, “Don’t even think about it, Doyle! You agreed to be a part of this thing, and you’re not going to disappoint my grandmother.” He was a huge, intimidating guy, maybe six-four and solid muscle, and his deep, booming voice left no room for debate. I gave it a shot anyway.

  “I was off my rocker when I agreed to it,” I told him. My usually faint Irish accent sounded exaggerated, because I was nervous. I opened the flaps of my tan trench coat and said, “Who the hell’s going to bid on this? Tell you what, I’ll just write your gran a nice, fat check and we’ll call it even, alright?”

  Dante’s frown eased a bit, and he handed a cute, blond bachelor named Quinn the clipboard and crossed the room to me. “You need to get back out in the dating world, Cam. You and I both know it. Give me the trench coat, and let’s straighten your tie.”

  “It’s going to be damned embarrassing if nobody bids on me,” I told him, as I handed over the coat and finger-combed my short, auburn hair.

  “That’s not going to happen. But if it did, I’d bid on you myself,” Dante told me. There was sympathy in his dark eyes. He probably realized what a mistake it had been to include me in the auction. As he brushed off the shoulders of my wrinkled, navy-blue suit, he muttered, “What have I told you about sleeping in your clothes?”

  “I didn’t! And you can’t bid on me. You’re married! What would Charlie say?”

  From across the room, Charlie called, “I’d say my husband has excellent taste! Don’t stress out, Cam. This is going to be great! You’ll see.” I didn’t share his optimism.

  A few moments later, a stunningly beautiful man appeared at the top of the stairs. Finally, there was someone else around my age, but there ended the similarities. He had thick, dark, shoulder-length hair, a short beard, and a mischievous, lopsided grin that drove me to distraction. He told the guy with the clipboard, “Ignacio Mondelvano, checking in to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. It makes me hard just thinking about it!” He had a heavy Spanish accent, which was sexy as hell.

  Even sexier was the unmistakable air of confidence about him. I’d always admired men like that, who were so perfectly comfortable in their own skin. He adjusted one of his long, exotic-looking necklaces, then pushed back the sleeves of his white linen shirt, which he was wearing with a pair of ripped jeans. Both arms were sleeved in tattoos. I found myself wondering how much more of his smooth, olive skin was inked.

  He glanced up a moment later and caught me looking at him. When our eyes met, he flashed me a dazzling smile. I attempted a grin in return, which probably looked as awkward as it felt. Why was I even trying?

  Loud music began to play downstairs, and the emcee announced the start of the auction. A cheer rose from the crowd. We were in an old firehouse, which had been converted to a transition shelter for LGBTQ young adults, and we were supposed to make a big entrance by sliding down the brass poles onto the stage below. What a fucking nightmare.

  As the first two guys slid down to thunderous applause, my heart began to race. I felt nauseous and prayed I wouldn’t throw up. A few moments later, another pair of bachelors slid down the poles, and Dante said something to Quinn as he retrieved the clipboard from him. Then my friend pointed at me. Oh hell, it was time.

  I forced myself to walk over to one of the poles and wiped my hands on my suit jacket before gripping it tightly. I took a few deep breaths as Quinn grasped the pole to my right and shot me a friendly smile. When the emcee introduced us, we slid down to the stage.

  About two hundred and fifty people crowded the main floor of the firehouse. All I could do was stare at them. Quinn waved to the audience, and then he grabbed my hand and guided me to the row of bachelors. I was grateful for his help, but my throat was too dry to thank him.

  A few more pairs of bachelors made their entrance. The handsome Spaniard was in the last set of two. He sauntered to his spot near the back of the line, perfectly at ease in the spotlight.

  The auction moved at a snail’s pace. The DJ played a different song and the emcee read an embarrassing, fictitious biography for each bachelor while the audience laughed and applauded. Bids on the first few men reached several hundred dollars each. At that point, I would have been hap
py if I got even a single bid for twenty bucks.

  When it was my turn, I stepped forward on shaky legs. I could feel sweat forming on my brow, which probably looked disgusting. I didn’t pay attention to the made-up biography, and I cringed at my theme song, which was ‘I Wanna Sex You Up’ by Color Me Badd. Jesus.

  Then the bidding began, and Quinn called, “Two hundred dollars.” I assumed Dante had asked him to do that.

  Surprisingly, a couple of men in the audience called out bids of three and four hundred dollars. But then, Ignacio Mondelvano yelled, “Two grand!” Wait, what? The emcee’s mouth fell open along with mine, and he struck the podium with his gavel.

  I was dazed as I got back in line. After a moment, I leaned forward and glanced at Ignacio, who met my gaze and licked his lips suggestively. I straightened up again and tried to swallow, but my throat was still too dry to manage it.

  Over the next half hour, eight more men were auctioned off. I was pretty sure it was never going to end. Then it was Ignacio’s turn. He strolled over to the podium, plunked down a fat roll of hundred dollar bills, and said, “I bid whatever that is for myself, and I give me to the handsome man I purchased earlier.” He smiled at me over his shoulder, and then he told the audience, “That is all the money I have, so be kind and don’t bid against me, bueno?”

  Everyone cheered, and the emcee banged the gavel and yelled, “Sold!” What the fuck?

  The handsome Spaniard crossed the stage and stopped right in front of me. Since we were both almost exactly six feet tall, we stood eye-to-eye. He searched my gaze for a moment before leaning in and brushing his lips to mine. The kiss was sweet and tender, which was yet another surprise. I started to reach for him, but I held myself back.

  He looked in my eyes again as he tucked a slip of paper in my jacket pocket. “That is my private number,” he said. “Regrettably, I am flying home to Barcelona on the red-eye in a few hours, and what I intend to do with you will take a great deal of time, so our date will have to wait until my return. But when I get back, I’m going to rock your world.” Holy. Shit. Ignacio caressed my cheek before returning to his place in line.

  I whispered to no one in particular, “What just happened?”

  My mind was reeling as the last bachelor took center stage. I was vaguely aware of the fact that he brought in a huge amount of money, which sent a ripple of excitement through the crowd. But all I could think about was Ignacio. Every time I glanced at him, I found him watching me with a little smile on his full lips.

  Maybe it was all some sort of joke. His expression didn’t look mocking or even teasing, though. It actually seemed…hopeful.

  Finally, the auction ended, and Ignacio and the rest of the winning bidders headed to the podium to pay. After standing there awkwardly for a few moments, I decided I really should vacate the stage. I headed down the stairs and was intercepted by Dante, who slapped my back and exclaimed, “Didn’t I tell you it was going to be great?”

  I took my overcoat from him when he held it out to me, and I asked, “Did you put Ignacio Mondelvano up to that?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Why would he bid so much and then turn around and buy himself for me? What was that?”

  “I think it’s safe to assume he’s into you, Cameron.”

  I said, “There has to be another explanation.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he looks like a fucking rock star, that’s why. And rock stars don’t want guys like me.”

  Dante sighed as he brushed his black hair from his eyes. “You really sell yourself short. That guy obviously thinks you’re something special. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have dropped a bundle to take you on a date.”

  I pulled on the coat and muttered, “I’ll be back in a few minutes. This has been a weird fucking evening, and I need to clear my head.”

  “Are you really coming back?” I thought about that, then shook my head. “Didn’t think so. Aren’t you going to say goodbye to Ignacio?”

  I glanced at the stage, where my winning bidder was sharing a laugh with a handsome brunet from the auction. “He’s busy. Besides, he already gave me his number and told me he’s about to head out of town, so I think we’re good.”

  “Alright. Call me next week, and don’t forget, Charlie and I are expecting you for dinner on Thursday.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  I started to wade into the crowd, but I glanced over my shoulder when Dante called, “Hey Cam?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for letting me coerce you into the fundraiser. I know you hated every minute of it, but you raised a lot of money, and it’s going to go a long way toward helping the residents when this shelter opens at the end of the month.” I gave a single nod, then headed for the nearest exit.

  After the auction, the noise, and that crowd, the stillness of the back alley was a welcome relief. The late September evening was cool and just a little foggy, and I pulled up the collar of my trench coat as I paused and looked both ways. Heading left would take me home. To the right was my office. It took me a few moments to decide which was worse: the cluttered, lonely apartment, or the endless pile of painfully dull paperwork waiting on my desk.

  Finally, I headed to the right. But I only made it about twenty feet before someone called, “Cameron?” I turned toward Ignacio as he jogged down the alley to catch up to me. He stopped when he was a couple of feet away and asked, “You’re leaving so soon?”

  “Well, the auction was over, so.…”

  “You didn’t say goodbye.”

  “You were busy.”

  He took a step closer and studied me in the pool of light spilling from a second-story window. “Are you disappointed? I saw you looking at me before the auction so I thought you were interested, but maybe I misread the situation. Were you hoping someone else would place the winning bid?”

  I shook my head. “I’m glad it was you, but you said you have to catch a flight, and—”

  He closed the distance between us and pulled me into a passionate kiss, and my entire body responded. I grasped the front of his shirt in my fists and crushed my mouth to his as lust shot through me. After a few moments, he rubbed his cheek against mine and whispered in my ear, “I have a little time. Not enough to take you home and let you fuck me all night, but I still want to make you feel good if you’ll let me.”

  I pushed him against the wall of the building beside us and kissed him again as I ran my fingers into his thick hair. Ignacio overwhelmed my senses. The sweet taste of his mouth, his clean scent, and the warmth of his strong body intoxicated me. I tried to shut off my brain and just go with the lust that coursed through me.

  When my hard-on brushed his through our clothes, he moaned against my lips. Ignacio dropped to his knees and reached for me. I was dying to feel his warm, wet mouth around my cock, but I found myself taking a step back before he could get my zipper down. Damn it!

  It had been months. My need for sex and human contact were nearly consuming me, and here was an absolutely beautiful man who was perfectly willing to give me everything I needed. So why the hell couldn’t I stop thinking and enjoy what he was offering me?

  He sat back on his heels and asked, “Am I being too aggressive? I can tone it down.”

  I muttered, “You’re fine. I want this, but—”

  “Someone hurt you.” Jesus, was it that obvious?

  “No.” I said it too quickly. Ignacio knew it was a lie, and his expression became sympathetic. I blurted, “I know this isn’t what you were hoping for, so I’ll give you a check for the amount you paid and we’ll call it even, alright?”

  Ignacio stood up and drew me into a hug. Despite myself, I sank into it. After a moment, he said softly, “Come home with me.”

  “But I don’t think I can go through with it.”

  “Not for sex. I just want to talk to you.”

  Even though my first response was thanks but no thanks, I wrapped my arms around him and made myself shut up, for
one simple reason: I desperately needed what he was offering me. Ignacio nuzzled my cheek before taking my hand and leading me out of the alley, and I asked, “What about your flight?”

  “I’ll get a later one.”

  “Why would you do that for me? I’m a total stranger.”

  “But I don’t want you to be.” I gripped his hand a little tighter.

  We walked for maybe fifteen minutes, climbing steadily for most of it. Even though it was nearly ten at night, San Francisco was alive all around us, buzzing with people and weekend traffic. The only part that held any interest for me was the beautiful man at my side. Neither of us said anything as we walked, but the silence was comfortable, and his hand felt good in mine.

  Finally, we entered the lobby of a six-story, pale gray building that looked like it dated from the 1920s. We rode the elevator to the top floor, and he let us into his huge apartment. It featured a sprawling city view through a wall of windows to our right, a black and white checkered tile floor, high ceilings, and gorgeous period details, including wide, fluted trim around every window and doorway. It was a bit shabby, though. A couple of the tiles were cracked, and the blank, white walls were dingy and faded, which was surprising in what was literally a million dollar apartment.

  It was also really empty. At the far end of the long, rectangular living room, a mattress heaped with rumpled linens sat on the floor in front of a grand fireplace. The bed was flanked on the left by an overstuffed, dark red couch, and on the right by an easel with a blank canvas, which was centered on a paint-spattered drop cloth. Those were the only furnishings, and the way they were clustered together made me think he was used to living in a much smaller apartment.