Forsaking Truth by Lydia Michaels Page A

shivered as Luke bit his ass and kissed up

his spine. This was not the man he’d been with six weeks ago. This was not the

unsure, diffident, scared guy who’d blown him off. This was a new Luke. A Luke

that knew exactly what he wanted and was determined

to get it.
    As Tristan caught his

breath, his mind spun. He wanted him. His desire was almost painful to

process. The intensity of his yearning was terrifying, because in that moment

he wanted him forever.

Chapter Five
    “This soup is terribl e,” Luke said, shoveling in another bite of the watered

down noodles.
    Tristan smirked, a

soft crease around his eyes, and a devastatingly handsome quirk to his lips.

How had he resisted him for so long? Luke’s mind was still reeling from

watching him come apart beneath him, feeling him lose

himself under his touch. It was the most sensual moment of his life.
    “What’s your favorite

food?” Tristan asked.
    Luke tipped his head

in contemplation. “I love my mum’s chicken casserole.”
    “How does she make

it?”
    “I have no idea, but it’s like biting into heaven. You’ll have to

try it.”
    Tristan’s expression

suddenly shifted from easy going to burdened. Quietly, he asked, “Will you tell

them? Your family?”
    Luke stilled.

Absolutely not. He wasn’t ready to tell anyone. His d ecision

was pure instinct, but there was more to it. He wasn’t ready to share this part

of himself with anyone aside from Tristan. He wasn’t ready to share Tristan.

“Maybe in time.”
    Tristan’s eyes moved

over him as if contemplating his answer. “Your family ’s

pretty liberal.”
    “Yeah. But they’re

also Catholic.”
    “Do they see

homosexuality as a sin?”
    Homosexuality. For

some reason that label didn’t encompass what he felt about Tristan. It was

still sinking in and Luke wasn’t sure if he’d ever come to terms with that classification. “I don’t know. It isn’t something

that comes up often.”
    Tristan pushed his

soup away. “When I was younger I always had this fantasy in my head that I’d

bring home a lover, maybe when I was older, perhaps coming home for

Thanksgiving o r some shit. He’d stay at my house and

together we’d tell my parents we were in love. They’d be shocked, my dad more

than my mom, but then they’d come around and we’d hug it out and eventually all

be sitting around watching reruns on late night television like the perfect modern family. I never got that. I

understand why certain things are private.”
    “Do you ever talk to

them?”
    “No. I send my mom a

card every Christmas. It’s generic and only has my name. But it tells her where

I’m living and that I’m alive. That seems to be

enough for her. She never writes back.”
    “What did she do when

your dad caught you?”
    “Cried. I wasn’t

hospitalized, but I was in bad shape. After that day, nothing was ever the

same. If I walked into a room, he walked out. I’d catch her wip ing her eyes and sometimes I told myself it was because she

hated her husband, but I was never sure if it was because she hated him for

what he’d done or me for what I was. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to ever

ask the truth.”
    “There was a gay guy

in o ur high school,” Luke said quietly, remembering

what his team had done to him and how he laughed with the rest of them. It

wasn’t funny now. It stopped being funny the day they read the kid’s

obituary—at least for most of them.
    “I’m not going to ask

you about that, because by the look in your eyes it

isn’t a memory you want to remember. People change, Luke. No one has the right

to throw the first stone because no one’s perfect and none of us even know what

perfect is. Society is the last measuring stick w e

should use. Just take a look at the horrid beliefs we’ve applied over history.”
    He lost his appetite.

“Is this…are we a couple now?”
    Tristan’s brow shot

up. “Uh, yeah.”
    He nodded.