Page 8 of Just a Little in Love

Gabriel sighed. What was he doing? Rowan wasn’t his sub, could never be his sub, and he was acting in a manner Patrick had just warned him about. “Adrian said you signed a contract with Master Paul, but something tells me you didn’t look at the fine print.”

Rowan didn’t reply, but Gabriel knew he understood. Not that there was any fine print in Adrian’s contracts, but Rowan had clearly not understood or had been willing to risk it. He knew why. Rowan came to the club looking for something specific he needed, the same as everyone else, and in two years hadn’t found it. Gabriel was aware Rowan wanted a Daddy and for a dizzying moment wished he could help, but that wasn’t what Gabriel wanted. To be honest, he wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted right at that moment, except possibly to be a friend to Rowan.

“Look,” he started, hoping he wasn’t going to mess things up and conscious of Patrick’s warning. “I understand completely why you would think Master Paul would fulfill your needs—” Gabriel broke off as Rowan made a distressed sound and looked like he was trying to curl in on himself. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Rowan,” he said as gently as he could, reaching over with his other hand and hooking a finger under his chin. “Do you think I should be ashamed of myself for needing to cause pain to get myself off?” It wasn’t like that, but Gabriel bet it would have the effect he wanted.

Rowan’s eyes widened and he shook his head quite violently and Gabriel let go. “Of course not, Sir.” Gabriel grinned, relaxing a little.

“Exactly, so you hoping for a Daddy is just the same. I’m betting,” he added cautiously, “that you were eager to see if you and Master Paul’s needs aligned and perhaps thought you could compromise a little? We all do that. That’s why negotiation is necessary.”

Rowan seemed to forget his embarrassment for a moment. “Negotiation?”

“Absolutely. You always negotiate a scene with a Dom. Never just accept his requests unless they absolutely line up perfectly with yours.”

“But—” Rowan snapped off whatever he was going to say, but Gabriel could imagine. He was sure Rowan had been eager enough to skim over some pertinent details.

“I wondered if you could do something for me?”

Rowan’s eyes grew wider and for a second, Gabriel lost himself in them. They were just about the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. “You know that Doms need to help people? It’s like a switch we can’t turn off.” Okay, so that was stretching the truth a little, but... Rowan cautiously nodded.

“I don’t want to settle down. My dad died recently, and I find myself at a bit of a loss.”

“I’m so sorry,” Rowan said, and he squeezed Gabriel’s hand. Gabriel looked down in surprise. He’d forgotten they were still touching.

“Just because we don’t match sexually doesn’t mean we still can’t help each other.”

Curiosity flashed in Rowan’s eyes. “Sir?”

“I’d like you to talk to me if you’re interested in any Doms. Talk to me first. I can advise you if I think they would be a good fit, and definitely advise you in contract negotiations. Any master could do that, though. If you prefer Master Patrick—”

“No.” Rowan rushed out them flushed. “No, Sir.” Gabriel wanted to hear Rowan call him by his name, but it would be better if they kept this friendship on a business footing. He nearly scoffed. Yeah, right. Wasn’t that an oxymoron? “But how would that help you?”

A good question. “Seeing my friends happy fulfills a need in me. I felt pretty useless after my dad died and helping you would go a long way to making me feel better.” He wasn’t lying. Gabriel never wanted to see Rowan put himself through what he’d done tonight ever again. Rowan had zero body confidence and Gabriel hoped he might be able to help with that as well.

Rowan nodded thoughtfully. “I’d love to help.”

Gabriel forced himself to let go of Rowan’s hand. “Give me your phone.” Rowan handed it over without protest, and Gabriel quickly put both his numbers in there and sent a text to his own, then added Rowan’s contact info to his. “Right,” Gabriel said and reluctantly turned back around and fastened his seat belt. “Are you at your mom’s tonight?”

“No, my father’s. Mother’s out of town.” Gabriel headed that way and after a moment, added. “As soon as you are in bed and settled tonight, I want a text. You can text me anytime you want on a regular basis. If I’m in a meeting, I may not be able to answer, but I will get back to you as soon as I can.”

Gabriel drove Rowan home, determined to reach out to his contacts and see who wanted a little. Rowan deserved someone to spoil him, and Gabriel would make sure he got that. Rowan needed a friend. Gabriel could be like an older brother to him.

He could. He absolutely could.

Couldn’t he?

Chapter five

Rowan knew he had to get out of Master Gabriel’s car. He should be polite, friendly, grateful. He really shouldn’t want to feel those strong arms around him, hot breath on his cheek, the scrape of stubble on his neck.

“Text me in an hour. I want to know you’re okay.”

Because that’s what friends did? Rowan knew he should be grateful. Friends had been few and far between in his life. Did Master Gabriel wanting to be his friend make his life better, or had things just gotten immeasurably worse? Obediently promising to text him in an hour, Rowan climbed out and headed miserably to the door. His father was usually in his study or in bed when he got home, but as he was earlier than normal, he could see all the lights on, and his heart sank.

Philip Wilson was a tech giant who had originally jumped on the cell phone bandwagon and made his money selling game apps that multiple strangers could play against each other simply by connecting their phone. He was ten years older than Rowan’s mother, and even as a young child Rowan had known they disliked each other. His father had tried when Rowan was younger to get him interested in various sports, but every time Rowan so much as got a tiny bruise, his mother would practically have hysterics, and they would start fighting again.

Rowan simply found it easier to refuse his father’s attempts to play sports to stop the resulting confrontation, and it wasn’t long he supposed until his father simply stopped asking. In a lot of ways, he didn’t blame his mother because Rowan seemed to always be sick with one thing or another. His stomach was particularly sensitive, to the point that his mother had started cooking him special meals, even before he got cancer and his life went to hell.

Then he’d piled on weight. His doctor had tried to explain that it was because of the hormone treatment he eventually had to have but getting Rowan slim became his mother’s new mission in life.

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