Page 94 of Not That Complicated

The sense of queasy violation was already fading. Perhaps because it was familiar now. I’d been through this before, after all. Both being wrangled and cared for by Adam, and having my personal space poked and pawed through by the police.

Although they’d definitely been more thorough.

It wasn’t a surprise that my place didn’t look show-home ready. But because it was a special unit from a major force, I’d expected a little more sophistication. Like, a soupçon.

There was printing dust everywhere. The scent of chemicals lingered in the air. Oh, and there was an enormous hole in the guest bedroom wall that I wasn’t even going to think about. Certainly not tonight, anyway.

I dropped my bags in the master bedroom, put my hands on my hips, and looked around. Okay. Quick hoover. Change the bed, open the windows to ventilate the place, and I’d be good to go. I could sleep here. I could live here again. The dead guys had been here all along, they hadn’t caused any trouble, and at least the police had properly checked the place out now.

If there was another body to find, they would have found it. No more nasty surprises.

I grabbed the hoover and whizzed it around the room. Someone had been rummaging around in my laundry cupboard, because everything was a haphazard jumble. I found my spare bedding set and carted it back to the bedroom. Cool night air twisted in through the open window, damp and reassuring. Instead of the indefinable odour of the Law, I smelled fresh cut grass, a hint of soil, and green growing things.

I changed the bed and hopped in the shower to give myself a quick but thorough scrubbing. I looked down at my dick. “Don’t get too excited,” I told it. I was half hard. “We’re having pasta, and that’s all.”

To underscore my firm tone, I turned the shower to cold and sucked in a sharp breath when it hit me.

Erection taken care of, I rubbed myself dry, scrambled into some clean flannel pj bottoms and a t-shirt, and went out into the bedroom.

I deflated somewhat to find the room empty.

Part of me had expected to see Adam spread out naked on the clean bed, balancing the bowl of pasta on his flat stomach and offering me a fork with a come-hither look.

Or, not expected.

Hoped.

I trudged down the stairs to the kitchen. Adam wasn’t naked, but he did smile and hold out a fork as I sat down at the table in front of the steaming bowl of pasta and pesto.

“Eat it, Ray,” he said, after I stared at it for a full minute.

“I’m going to.”

“It doesn’t have death germs if that’s why you’re hesitating.”

“I know.”

He leaned over, took my fork off me, and dug in. If he tried to feed me, that would be crossing a line.

Adam popped the pasta into his own mouth. Eyes on mine, he drew the fork out slowly. He licked the end with a quick, wet flicker of tongue. “Yeah,” he said. “I know you like that, you freak.”

I snatched the fork off him. “I do not have a thing for cutlery.” I didn’t. At least I hadn’t, pre-Adam. Maybe he had awakened something in me. “If you’re going to fellate it right in front of me, of course I’m going to watch.”

I grumpily shovelled pasta into my mouth and moaned as the flavoursome red pepper pesto burst over my tastebuds. I’d known I was hungry. I hadn’t known I was this hungry.

Adam’s pupil’s dilated.

“You not having any?” I said through a mouthful.

He shook his head. “I don’t like to eat before exercise. It gives me a stitch.”

“Ah,” I said, then choked when his meaning percolated.

“More Parmesan?” he asked.

I nudged my bowl closer to him, said stop when he’d liberally dusted the food with my very classy hard-cheese-style, Parmesan-adjacent foodstuff from Sainsburys—I had the palate of a barbarian—and manfully ploughed on.

When I looked up from the feeding trough, Adam was in an easy sprawl in the kitchen chair. He’d angled his body sideways and had his ridiculously long legs stretched out, ankles crossed. One arm was hooked around the back of the chair, his head had that familiar, curious tilt, and his other arm lay on the table, fingers curled around a glass of water.

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