Page 15 of Leather and Longing
This one had balls.
Paul’s words struck home.Fuck.
“Have you been spying on me?” Adam straightened, his heart pounding.
“No,” Paul said impatiently, “I’ve been doing my job. Remember? I’m supposed to be looking after you.”
“And I told you I didn’t need looking after,” Adam ground out, letting go of the chair arms and clenching his hands into fists. He felt the slight movement in the floorboards as Paul shifted position.
“Look, we can argue about this until we’re both blue in the face. So instead of wasting my time and yours, why don’t we call a truce and work out what we’re going to do to make your sister happy?”
“We?” Adam echoed. “What ‘we’re’ going to do?”
A heavy sigh rolled out of Paul. “Like it or not, you need me. We can cease hostilities until after she’s been tomorrow, and then you can go back to being your usual sweet self.” Sarcasm dripped off every word.
Adam opened his mouth to say what he’d wanted to say that Friday, to tell Paul he was fired, but… he couldn’t. Because damn it, the boy had a point.
Can’t think of him as a boy anymore.His words, his attitude, were that of a man, one whom Adam couldn’t help but grudgingly respect.
“Go on,” he said, weariness settling on him. He sagged into the armchair.
“Okay.” Adam heard the scrape of furniture across the floor. Paul’s voice was nearer, Paul close enough that Adam could smell him, a scent of soap and male. “I figure, if she comes here and finds nothing to worry about, she’ll think I’m doing my job and she’ll be less inclined to visit you as frequently.”
“And how do you propose putting her mind at rest?”
Silence, then Paul cleared his throat. “First off, you’re going to take a shower, not a spit-wash in a cloakroom.”
Shit.
“D’you want to tell me why you’ve been doing that, by the way?”
He could dismiss the question, but the possibility of keeping Caro at bay was too big a carrot to ignore. And if they could accomplish that…
Adam leaned forward, slowly reached down to the hem of his sweatpants and pulled up the fabric covering his right ankle. Paul’s hiss was loud. Adam let go and sagged. “How bad is it?”
“It’s pretty bruised and swollen. What happened?”
“I tried going upstairs to take a shower Tuesday night, that’s what happened.” The memory of falling was still sharp. It hadn’t been that big a fall, but the shame Adam had felt at ending up in a heap at the foot of the stairs, his ankle on fire, was worse than the pain.
More movement of the floor and Adam could feel Paul’s body heat, his scent intensifying. “I’m just going to have a closer look, okay? And a quick feel, so don’t jump.”
Adam braced himself. “Go for it.”
Paul lifted the fabric out of the way, and suddenly, cool fingers were on his skin, probing gently. Adam winced when Paul manipulated his ankle, albeit with care, his hands soft. He handled Adam’s ankle as if it were made of glass, his touch light. Adam held his breath, waiting for the inspection to end. His foot was rotated slowly, and the pain wasn’t as intense as it had been two nights ago. When Paul lowered his foot back to the floor, Adam shuddered out a sigh of relief.
“Okay, well, the good news is, you haven’t broken anything, but you already knew that. If you had, you wouldn’t have been able to get to and fro between here and the cloakroom. It’s a bad sprain, but once you’ve showered, I can bandage it up nice and tight, so it’ll be easier to get around.”
“Get around?” Adam frowned. “Exactly why will I need to get around?” More silence. “Well, go on, out with it. You’ve got this far. What’s the rest of your plan?”
“I’m going to shave you, and then we’re going to get your hair cut. Unless you’re really attached to the beard?” Paul let out a wry chuckle. “Metaphorically speaking.”
He’d hit on a sore point. Adam had tried to shave a few months ago. He hated electric razors, much preferring to use a disposable one, but his first efforts had been painful and downright embarrassing. Not knowing how he looked when he’d nicked his skin in half a dozen places only fuelled his shame. After that, it had been easier to put up with the beard, but God, he loathed it. Helikedbeing clean-shaven: a five o’clock shadow made him look sexy, so he’d been told, but that was as far as he was prepared to go.
“You ever shaved with a blade?” he asked Paul.
“Yes, but I’ll be starting with the electric hair trimmer to trim it down to a more reasonable length first.”
Adam nodded. “I have disposable razors and a straight blade. Somewhere,” he added, unable to contain the groan. Where had Caro put all his things?
