Page 18 of Leather and Longing
“Use the time while I’m in the shower to work out the location of my clothes, will you? I want to know what’s been put where.” And if he wasn’t happy with it, then changes could be made.
“Yes, sir.” Adam didn’t miss Paul’s response. He wondered at the choice of words, and then thought about the brusque manner in which he’d spoken to Paul.
It was in a voice that expected to be obeyed.
It seemed climbing those stairs had been more than getting past his fall. If he could do it once, he could do it again. A small measure of control was suddenly back in his hands, and Adam was anxious for more.
I can do this.
Chapter Eight
Paul laidout the clothes on the bed, the sound of the shower running in the background. He’d already sussed out where all the different items of clothing were, and once he’d shown Adam, there would be no more excuses. Adam had proved he could climb the stairs: Paul had done little but be there in case of a fall, but it was obvious with each step that Adam’s confidence was growing.
Paul had felt awkward at first, going through the wardrobe and drawers, until he realised something: there was nothing personal in that room. The surfaces were devoid of clutter, so much so that it would have resembled a hotel room, except for the bed.
It was a four-poster bed, its headboard a simple filigree pattern of interwoven vines carved from the wood, leaving open spaces between the coiling stems. Four slender posts rose, one at each corner, the vines carved around the base, curling upward to end with a point. The bed dominated the room, somehow in keeping with the age of the house, its old-fashioned satin bedspread only adding to its beauty. Paul stroked the soft, aged peach covering, heavily quilted. He could imagine snugglingunder it in the middle of winter, feeling its thickness warm him, creating a feeling of being safe and cosy.
It was then he realised the shower had stopped.
Paul went to the bathroom door. He didn’t want to ask if all was okay: in his head he could hear all too plainly Adam’s derisive snort. Paul was under no illusions: this was a temporary truce to get Caroline out of Adam’s hair. He had no doubt that once this had been accomplished, normal service would be resumed. He couldn’t deny, however, that the brief cessation of hostilities had been pleasant. When he wasn’t being brusque, there were hints Adam might have been a nice man.
He was certainly a sexy man, that much Paul could attest to. He’d caught himself wondering more than once what the sweatpants and T-shirt hid beneath their thin layers.
Don’t keep him waiting.As if Adam needed more excuses to be terse. Paul pushed open the door to the bathroom and entered.
“Ready for your shave?”
It was all he could do not to catch his breath at the sight that awaited him.
Adam stood behind the shower screen, caught in the act of drying his hair. His arms were raised, a towel over his head, and Paul was able to feast his gaze on that lean body.
Ohhh, nice.
Adam had a real body, not one that would have graced the pages of a magazine. His belly was flat, the skin taut, covered with a layer of dark hair that grew denser as it reached the base of his dick. His chest was well-defined, with dark brown nipples that stood proud. Paul had a thing for chest hair, not too much, but enough to imagine curling his fingers through it, and Adam didn’t have an overabundance of it.
Paul’s gaze was drawn down once more to that cock, not too long in its flaccid state, but wide enough to make him drool. His imaginings had been realised.
His employer washot.
Adam slowly lowered the towel, seemingly unfazed by standing nude in Paul’s presence. He pushed back the mass of black curls and Paul caught his breath at the first sight of Adam’s eyes. He remembered how startlingly blue they’d been on Google. In his head he’d pictured Adam removing his glasses to reveal those eyes, imagining them staring at him, as if they could see his every thought.
But this was reality.
The deep blue hue was dimmed, covered in a milky haze. The whites of Adam’s eyes were bloodshot. His pupils were enlarged, unresponsive. And the final nail was driven in with one painful realisation that made a mockery of his imagination:Adam can’t see me. Those once beautiful eyes willneversee me.
“How do you want to do this?”
Adam’s question brought him back into the present with a jolt. Paul pulled himself together. Adam had wrapped the towel around his body and was fastening it at his hips, his head turned in Paul’s direction, his eyebrows arched.
“I was going to bring in a chair from the bedroom and sit you in front of the wash basin.”
Adam nodded, those eyes still focused on Paul. “Then do it.”
Paul shook his head and exited the bathroom in search of the chair.
Being civil wouldn’t choke you, God damn it.
He knew Adam was his employer, but the abruptness of his speech was wearisome. He knew he shouldn’t let it get to him, but that was easier said than done.
