Page 26 of Murder & Mayhem
The air was thick with tension, both of us. . . waiting. For what, I really wasn’t sure.
“I never got us clothes,” I realized. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
Somehow, standing here with both of us wrapped in towels felt more intimate than the shower. I needed to get out of the room and breathe fresh air that wasn’t saturated with Jamie’s scent. Which was really only mine, since I used the same products for both of us, but I somehow could tell the difference.
His eyes never left me. I could feel him staring even with my back turned. I managed to ignore it, putting all my focus on finding a pair of gray sweats for me and clothes that could fit Jamie.
No underwear, but Ari had left a pair of joggers and a long-sleeved Carhartt T-shirt here last time he’d spent the night, so I grabbed them for Jamie and brought them back to him.
He was sitting on the counter, still in his towel, picking at a scab on the palm of his hand. He looked up when I walked in and stole my fucking breath away. His hair was a little darker when wet and had a bit of a wave to it. It fell into his eyes, and he tossed his head to push it back. His legs were spread enough that there was a gap in his towel, and I had placed it low enough that I got a good glimpse of nearly blond curls above his groin.
My cock, which had amazingly cooperated through the whole torturous shower, suddenly forgot its place and twitched, thickening slightly. Which it had no fucking business doing, especially in the thin sweatpants I’d put on without underwear. Probably not my best decision, but I hadn’t been thinking clearly. Fuck.
Smiling, I placed the clothes on the counter next to him. “These should fit you. Do you want me to bandage your hand?”
Jamie shook his head and held his arm up to me. The scratches on his wrist looked rough, but there were no large gashes or open wounds. “Nah, it’s fine. Thanks.”
I swallowed so I wouldn’t argue before jerking my head toward the vanity. “There are new toothbrushes under the sink, and anything else you might need. I’ll leave you to it.”
I quickly left and closed the bathroom door before he could stop me again.
CHAPTER 10
JAMESON
Dominic was hard. He was trying to ignore it and act like he wasn’t, but I could see it. Hell, the neighbors could probably see it through the wall. Those sweatpants were obscene. And the man wasn’t wearing underwear. Which maybe was a thing for him, since he hadn’t given me any either. I’d considered putting on my dirty pair from earlier, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Besides, the joggers I’d been given were a little loose on me, so I was completely covered.
Not that I was hard. Nope. I was fucking broken. Not even before, in the shower, when I’d had the hottest, sweetest, only slightly unhinged man on his knees in front of me. I’d stayed soft. He had been touching my fucking dick and nothing. Not a thing. Okay, so that wasn’t totally true. I’d definitely felt . . . something. My stomach had been all swoony, the pleasure so intense that it had been hard to stay on my feet. My chest had ached with it, and I could barely breathe. As much as I’d beenstruggling to keep it together, my cock hadn’t given a fuck, I guessed.
Dominic had noticed. How could he not? He hadn’t said anything, but he had to have been wondering what the fuck was going on. I’d almost blurted out, “I’m gay and you’re hot,” just so he’d known it was only my dick being a weirdo, nothing else. But . . . that would have been very inappropriate in that situation. Besides, as much as I wished I were normal, I didn’t want sex or anything sex adjacent. Though, if I ever changed my mind, it would be with Dominic.
After he’d walked out and closed the door of the bathroom, leaving me feeling claustrophobic and panicky, I’d almost had another anxiety attack. The bathroom wasn’t small, but it was small enough, and with everything so close to the surface, it had almost been enough to tip me over the edge. I knew he’d been trying to give me privacy, but I couldn’t take it. I nearly fell on my face trying to get the clothes on he had given me and all but ran out, not even bothering to look under the sink for a toothbrush or whatever the fuck else.
Dominic was pacing in front of his bed when I crashed into the bedroom. Something was bothering him, but he didn’t say a word when he saw me. Just smiled and quickly passed me and went back into the bathroom.
I tried to stay out and give him space. I really did. But he left the door partially ajar, and being left alone had me feeling all awkward and jittery. What was I supposed to do? Go lie down? Stand here like a dumbass? Being alone really sucked right now. I pushed the door open and joined him in the bathroom. The man raised an eyebrow at me in question but otherwise didn’t say a word as I hopped on the counter to wait for him.
Dominic had some bougie ass nighttime skin care routine that amazed me. He didn’t seem to mind that I was sittingthere watching him. He didn’t even get annoyed at the questions I asked about all the different products and what they did. I swore it was more shit than I’d seen in the Sephora across from one of my jobs.
It was hard to believe that this man had once been a poor foster kid, sharing ice-cold shower water with some other mistreated kid. Though, I guessed I could understand why he took pride in caring for himself now.
While Dominic did his thing, I took in his body. He was shirtless, and his pants were hung low, so I got to see a whole lot. He was muscular, but not shredded. He didn’t have a six pack, but his arms, shoulders, and pecs were all defined. He had a decent amount of dark chest hair, but not enough that I’d consider him a bear. Like me, his skin wasn’t perfect and covered with scars that showed the hard life he’d lived. I recognized the small circular burns on his shoulder and across his collarbone and it pissed me the fuck off. Why the hell were there so many shitty people?
I had a feeling not all his scars were from his childhood, though. There was one I was like 90% sure was from a bullet and another that looked like he’d been stabbed. It should scare me. This man had killed people, and probably a lot of them, way more than the two I was aware of. He’d likely received some of these scars when killing those people. Yet instead of running away, I was following him around like a puppy and got freaked out when he left me alone in a room.
Scars weren’t the only markings on his skin. He had tattoos. A lot of them. Some covered the worst of the scars, but not all of them. A cobra started high on his pec, winding down his shoulder and onto his bicep. A falcon in flight covered his shoulder blade and went down to the top of his ribs. His other pec had some words in Latin, or at least it looked like Latin, but I had no idea what it said or meant.
When he was done with the routine, we both brushed our teeth and did all the usual night stuff. The guy had all kinds of spare shit under his sink I could use, still in the wrappers. Who had that much extra? Did he have a lot of guests, or was it another case of overcompensation for not having had much when he’d been younger?
The atmosphere changed once we got back into his room. We were both dawdling, hesitant, unsure what to do. My eyes kept bouncing back to the huge bed in the middle of the space. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into it and under the covers, but I was scared. What if Dominic expected something if I got into bed with him or, worse, didn’t want me there at all.
Finally, Dominic cleared his throat and brought my attention to him. He ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit I was already noticing. “I have a spare room I can set up for you, if you want.”
Dread settled like a rock in my belly. The apartment wasn’t that big, but still, the spare bedroom was too far away. Even if it was directly next door, it would be too far. My pathetic ass couldn’t even manage him being in the bathroom alone, so how was I supposed to handle being in an entirely separate room?
“Is that what you want? For me to go in there?” I hoped I didn’t sound as hysterical as I felt. It was completely an irrational response, and I was sure some psychiatrist would have a field day—abused and traumatized man latched onto the first person who showed him kindness—but I didn’t have it in me to give two fucks about it.
“I only want you to be comfortable. I realize that you didn’t want to stay here with me, and I want you to feel safe.”
