Love Letters Volume 4: Travel to Temptation Read online

  I’d wanted to come here for years, even brought home brochures to stare at. The only thing keeping me from going through with it was that my boyfriend Dillon couldn’t bring himself to agree to the prospect. Maybe that was why he was now my ex-boyfriend. He always said it was because he didn’t want to deal with the looks a gay couple would get in a country that had barely managed to make it legal for such things to exist, but I knew it was because he was scared of the actual travel.

  Plane rides gave him anxiety attacks, and three different intercontinental flights would have frayed his nerves until they were past repair. Looking at the building I was standing in front of now, I would never guess I’d actually spent that much time traveling. The architecture reminded me of a chalet in the Swiss Alps. Except it was a little taller and had some Hindu influences that couldn’t be found in Western Europe. I didn’t know a single place in Switzerland that had a statue of the elephant god Ganesh next to the drop-off area.

  I’d almost canceled this trip several times. Right about the time I discovered the first of my ten-hour flights didn’t include any sort of entertainment, I’d put some serious thought into getting off and purchasing a ticket to anywhere else. Or maybe even home. I could get over a broken heart anywhere that didn’t remind me of Dillon. Then again, this trip wasn’t just about healing. I wanted to do one of the many things I’d never been able to do while in a relationship. Traveling topped that list. He thought it was a waste of time and money. No matter what the cost, I planned to prove that it was worth every cent.

  Too bad I’d never get the chance to rub it in his face.

  All that hassle was made worthwhile in the first seconds after I stepped out of the car I’d hired in Delhi. The crisp mountain air was a nice change from the stench of the city. Though the cold burned my lungs, it was the kind of pain that made me believe it might actually be good for me. Or the perfect punishment for my sins. Either way, I was pretty sure I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

  I started toward the front door, anxious to get to my room and start my strict regimen of drinking, staring out the window and napping. Originally the plan included hiking, exploring the area and trying the local food. The closer the actual vacation became, the less I wanted to do any of those. The new plan was much better. I only had four days and I was determined to get as much of each of those activities in as physically possible.

  The driver followed behind me, stopping briefly to pull my suitcase from the trunk. Even though he made a big show of heaving it out of the vehicle, I knew he was simply hoping for a bigger tip. I’d been hoisting the thing in and out of the overhead compartments on each of my flights. I’m tall, but my upper body strength leaves a lot to be desired. Normally I hoped some stronger man would offer to assist me, but this bag couldn’t weight more than twenty pounds. My plans didn’t exactly require a large amount of clothing or equipment. He met me at the door and handed off my luggage to one of the uniformed hotel employees.

  “Thank you,” I said, hoping he’d understand. So far, we’d accomplished all our communication by playing charades. The few English words I tried to seemed to have no impact. These were no different. He stood in front of me with a big grin on his face.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out two one-hundred rupee notes. Four dollars. I shoved the bills into his hand and he bowed slightly before walking away.

  Probably should’ve only forked over one of the bills, but I didn’t much care at this point. Like most foreigners, I had a tendency to tip either too much or too little on trips. Not that the actual exchange rate was confusing, but I waffled between feeling sorry for the service industry and knowing that I was overpaying. Even on my third trip to India, I was still struggling to decide exactly how much I should cough up. Either way, getting out of the cold and into my comfortable room with a fire and bottle of scotch from the Duty Free store were the only important things at the moment.

  I ran my fingers through my hair and grimaced at how greasy it felt. Maybe I’d take a shower first. It’d been almost two days since I’d been in a bathroom with anything more than a toilet and a sink. Hot water and a tub sounded amazing.

  “This way, sir.” The hotel employee held the door for me, then led the way to the front desk. My disheveled traveler look attracted a lot of strange looks from the rest of the guests, most of whom were wearing either business attire or traditional long kurtas. I hoped there wasn’t an unmentioned dress code for the place. The best I brought was a pair of dark wash jeans and cable knit sweater. Perfect for the ski lodges I frequented in the U.S. but a little informal compared to the rest of the guests.

  “How may I assist you, sir?” A man not much younger than myself asked as he looked up from the computer monitor. A smile stretched across his face in a tight position that seemed well rehearsed.

  “I have a reservation for Jason Logan.”

  “Is this your first visit?” His fingers danced easily across the keyboard as he pulled up my record. The way he said it surprised me. While he still had a noticeable Indian accent, it paled in comparison to the other people I’ll dealt with so far. I could understand every word and his grammar was impeccable.

  “To this resort, yes. I’ve been to India a couple times before though.” I thought about expanding, but decided I wasn’t looking to make friends with the staff.

  “Four nights?”

  “Yep.” Four great nights trapped here with nothing to do but pretend the past few months of my life hadn’t existed. It was a perfect escape. I’d always wanted to come here and the perfect excuse had finally come up. Not exactly the celebration I’d hoped for, but I was willing to take it anyway.

  Some might think seven thousand miles was a little far to fly to get away from an ex. I wasn’t sure it was far enough, but I was willing to give it a try.

  “How many keys would you like, sir?” The man held up a couple of cards.

  “One.” I said the word very matter-of-factly. It was a big step for me, but the desk attendant didn’t seem to take notice. Instead, he swiped one card through the machine, stuck it in a paper envelope and handed it over.

  “You’re on the fifth floor. The elevators are just around this corner on the right. A bellman will bring your bag up in a few minutes. If there is anything we can do to make your stay better, please feel free to ask.”

  I took the envelope and the other papers and headed for the elevator. At this point, the only thing anyone could get me was drunk. Given that I no longer had a significant other to lean on, I’d be handling that myself. Fortunately, I was more than up to the task.

  *

  Most people probably fell in love with the view of the snowy peaks rising from their window as they sat on the loveseat by the gas fireplace. Most of them also probably came here with someone they loved. Or at least someone they intended to like for a few days.

  Those people could go to hell. I wanted to sit here and enjoy every minute of my depression.

  Two glasses of whiskey in, I realized that if I was going to keep up my intended pace, I would need to add eating to my list of activities. At least then I’d have something to throw up later. Dumping alcohol into my empty stomach was quickly making me tired and cranky. Not exactly the feeling I was going for.

  If it were up to me, I wouldn’t leave the room again until checkout, but I doubted the Himalayas had any good pizza delivery places. Since the room service menu didn’t have a single recognizable item listed, I needed to go to the restaurant and have someone explain the dishes to me. Then I’d be able to come up with something to absorb the liquor in my stomach and prepare my system for the next few shots.

  As I stepped off the elevator into the lobby, something across the room caught my eye. At first, I refused to believe it. I’d seen him a thousand times only to discover that it was a completely different blond-haired man. I wasn’t falling for it this time. A few steps closer to the restaurant, I started to feel as though someone was staring at me. When I couldn’t ignore it any
longer, I looked up and froze. It couldn’t be. My eyes had to playing tricks on me again. I’d wanted to get away from Portland because I kept seeing Dillon Waters on every street corner. I figured if I went somewhere that didn’t bring up so many memories, I’d be able to remove his ghost from my mind.

  Clearly my plan hadn’t worked. Halfway around the world and he still managed to haunt me.

  “Jason?”

  Except the apparitions back home didn’t know my name. In fact, the only thing they knew about me was that they wanted to get as far away from me as physically possible.

  “Jason, I know it’s you.”

  I hadn’t intentionally been hiding—or maybe I had—but I found myself flat against the wall, trying to blend in with the décor. “Jason.” The way he said my name reminded me of a tired parent.

  I cleared my throat. “What are you doing here?” I probably should have led with a pleasantry, but his appearance on my Dillon-free vacation had shaken all the common courtesy out of my system.

  “Business trip.”

  Right. In the five years I’d known him, the micro-brewery he worked for had never sent him any farther away than an adjoining state. Or rather he hadn’t wanted to go anywhere farther than that. He’d preferred staying in to going out from the very beginning. At first I’d convinced him to follow me out to all the hip restaurants and clubs. After a few years, he started telling me to go alone.

  “They want to expand into some new flavors and found some suppliers over here to work with on some top-secret recipes. I finished meetings a couple days ago and am taking a short vacation. I figured they’d already paid for the plane ticket, so I might as well enjoy myself.”

  He made it sound like those few sentences explained everything. I’d once asked him to join me in New York for a work trip. He’d whined so much about the length of the plane ride that I’d finally given up and dropped the topic. That was nothing compared to the amount of time it took to get to India. “Well, I hope you’ve been enjoying yourself.” I turned to head back toward the restaurant. I’d begged him to go on a proper vacation with me for years. Figures he’d finally do it once I was no longer around.

  “Wait.”

  For reasons I couldn’t explain, I actually stopped.

  “Since we’re both here, maybe we can sit down for a minute and talk.”

  “About what?” I’d said everything I wanted to during the final months of our relationship. More even. There’d been several nights where we’d done nothing but sit across from each other in the living room and talk until we were both hoarse. It’d done nothing for our relationship.

  “I don’t know, stuff? I know we broke up, but I miss you. You were my friend long before you were my boyfriend. I was kind of hoping maybe we can at least resurrect that part of our relationship.”

  His answer went against everything we’d promised the day I moved out. We weren’t going to be one of those couples who told people they broke up, but hooked up every other weekend. Clean and simple was our mantra. Stuff was divvied up, friends’ time divided and I’d done everything in my power to avoid any restaurant I knew he loved. I assumed he was doing the same since I hadn’t managed to run into him a single time. Not a small task considering the small-town feel Portland was known for.

  I wanted to say no. I wanted to tell him that any relationship we’d had was entirely in the past and that we both needed to move on and never look back. We hadn’t agreed on anything anyway. I wanted to spend our money to actually go out and experience the world. He wanted to hoard it in a bank account for some hypothetical day when we’d be able to enjoy it properly. Whatever that meant. It didn’t really matter since it clearly wasn’t going to happen. Whatever possibility we had for tonight, I didn’t intend to go back on any of the promises I made myself when we broke up. When I opened my mouth, the words wouldn’t come out. Instead, I found myself nodding.

  “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “I don’t think alcohol is the best way for us to reconnect.” I’d deleted him from my cell phone because of a particularly rough evening involving a few too many glasses of wine and had been overwhelmed by the urge to call him and beg to get back together. A few drinks and I’d probably do something stupid.

  “How about we go up to my room then? I just asked to have some food sent up and there’ll be plenty for both of us.”

  Going to Dillon’s room was probably just as stupid as drinking with him. Maybe even more so, but apparently I was an idiot, because I agreed to it.

  “Sure. I could eat.”

  That wasn’t exactly a lie. I had come down with the express purpose of getting food. What was the difference if it was in restaurant or someone’s room? Nothing, except for the chance that my option could end up being a huge mistake that would require more bottles of scotch to forget than I was allowed to bring into the country.

  The ride up the elevator to his eleventh-floor room was the most awkward five minutes of my entire life. During the walk down the hallway, I considered making a run for it at least ten different times. Each time, the rational part of me was overruled by the part of me that really wanted to know how this was going to turn out. When the door clicked closed behind us, I figured I was out of luck.

  “I’ve missed you.” The words seemed to pass over his lips as though they’d been held back by a dam of emotion that had broken the minute we were alone. A few short strides and he had me pinned between his body and the wall.

  My mind whirled, but my body reacted on instinct. It was a position I’d been in a hundred times over the years, but even now it made my skin tingle and my heart race. I wished I could shut the reaction down and push him off of me, but my arms simply wouldn’t obey my commands. Rational Jason had stayed out in the hallway. The Jason pressed up against the wall was too busy drinking in the scent of his skin to care.

  Dillon had never had a signature scent, but I’d still always been able to tell when he was nearby. No matter what cologne he picked, it always had some hint of sandalwood. His current one seemed to have an undertone of ginger. I’d never smelled it before and wanted to ask if it was new—perhaps something he’d picked up while in India—but he stopped me by pressing his lips against mine. I couldn’t think of a better way to shut someone up.

  He kept his mouth closed, firm lips full of passion and grace pressed against mine. My stomach flip-flopped like I’d just fallen over the first cliff on a roller coaster. I put my hands against his biceps and prepared to hold on for the ride.

  I couldn’t admit it until then, but I’d missed this. The way his stubble felt against my skin. More than once, I’d complained that he wasn’t getting a close enough shave, but now I was thankful that he still hadn’t upgraded his razor. As he slowly opened, his tongue flicked against my lips and slid along my teeth on the way to swirling through my mouth. None of the men I’d been with before or since knew how to kiss the way Dillon did.

  I hated him for it. Two seconds with him and I’d forgotten my resolve to get over him. I couldn’t manage to breathe right, let alone think straight, when he was pressed against me that way. Whatever little bit of brain power I had left vanished the minute he pulled away from my lips and knelt in front of me.

  I knew that pose. It was the same one that used to send bursts of electricity down my spine and make my head spin. The reaction it brought out now was only slightly different. My legs felt like jelly and the whole show appeared in slow motion. Part of me knew I should stop him, but a larger portion wanted to see this through.

  No, I needed to see this through. The aching inside me that hadn’t dulled even a little since the day I moved out had finally stopped. I’d do anything to draw out that feeling for as long as possible.

  Though, at this point, it didn’t seem like I’d be able to hang on to it very long. Dillon expertly worked the button and zipper on my pants and had them and my boxers pulled down around my knees in a matter of seconds.

  My mind might not have been expecting this,
but my cock was obviously on board with the plan. With each brush of his fingers against my shaft, my erection grew harder. Just when I didn’t think it was possible to get any more turned on, the way he circled the head with his thumb before tracing a line toward my balls nearly made me shoot off like a teenager.

  As much as I wanted to get to the feature presentation, I’d forgotten just how good the opening act could be. As much as I wanted to have his mouth wrapped around my cock, I didn’t want the foreplay to end.

  Dillon’s tongue ran across my slit, lapping up the pre-come that had spilled out. His hand wrapped around the base of my dick, pumping a couple times before he licked around the head. When he finally opened wide and took me in, I had to brace myself against the door to stop my knees from buckling. He’d always topped the list of best blow jobs I’d ever received. In fact, he took up all the places.

  His head bobbed as he took me all the way out, my tip bumping against the back of his throat each time before he pulled back. With each retraction, he used the opportunity to swipe his tongue over my head. The small flicks and circles made the room spin. If breathing wasn’t an automatic function, I’d have suffocated by this point. As it was, my chest felt heavy and each breath felt like more work than the one before it. I wanted to call out, but my voice kept getting caught in my throat and lingering until I managed to swallow it.

  The room spun and I grabbed hold of Dillon’s shoulders to steady myself. If any amount of adrenaline ran through his body, it didn’t show. He didn’t even flinch, simply kept up his pace, grabbed my ass and pulled me even closer. I ran my fingers through his thick hair, tugging at the ends. This drunk feeling was something I’d always had with him. Not the falling-over-while-sitting part, but the lightheaded happy-go-lucky reaction. Nothing else in the world compared to the way it felt being this close to him.

  That was exactly what I’d been trying to forget.

  And exactly what I’d come running back for. No matter what happened, seeing Dillon always made me forget everything else going on in the world. All that was before we were ever got to the bedroom. One sexual encounter with him was enough to keep me satisfied for days. Not that it ever stopped us from spending entire nights locked away in the bedroom. I’d hoped that my hands on his head would slow him down and give me a little time to pull myself together. Instead, it made him more insistent. His movements became hurried and less rhythmic.