Page 25 of Leather and Longing
All I want is to be left alone with my thoughts.
That was easier said than done. Getting rid of the previous companions had been ridiculously simple. Adam had blown up at them, roared, growled—in short, he’d done everything hecould to make them so damned unhappy, they’d been desperate to quit.
The plan had run aground when Paularrived. He’d stood firm against Adam’s verbal onslaught. Not only that, he’d given as good as he’d got. And although in the beginning that had piqued Adam’s interest, he’d had enough. He didn’twantpeople around him. He wanted to shut himself away in his house to lick his wounds in private.
That left only one course of action.
Paul had to go.
Only, once again it wasn’t that easy. Paul wasn’t like the others, and the idea of pushing him until he felt he had to resign, made Adam dislike himself intensely. The man didn’t deserve this. But there wasno wayAdam would allow himself to become dependent on someone. He’d reflected on the events of the last two days, and he could see it coming, could see the way he’d begun to rely on Paul.
Adam wouldnotallow that to happen. There had to be something he could do. He couldn’t fire Paul: the young man could take him to an employment tribunal for unfair dismissal on the basis that Adam had no grounds to fire him.
The only way was to make Paulwantto leave.
Adam lay on the bed, letting his thoughts flit to and fro, searching for any clue, any way forward. He replayed every conversation over and over again, looking for a weakness, something he could use to his advantage.
What came to mind was the bathroom. That initial silence when Paul had entered. The way Paul’s voice had cracked. The silence that had fallen afterward. The awkward feel to the conversation.
It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
Adam would have to be careful. He couldn’t lay so much as one finger on Paul. The success of his plan would all hinge onone thing—the fact that mind-fucking was second nature to him. Because if he played this right, straight boy Paul would be left feeling so uncomfortable, he wouldn’t want to spend another night under Adam’s roof.
And there was no time like the present.
“Paul, could you come to my room?” he called out, sure that his words would be heard. His fingertips found the top button on his radio-controlled watch, and a mechanical voice intoned ‘The time is now nine p.m.’ Paul would have finished cleaning up in the kitchen.
Adam climbed off the bed and quickly found the armchair. He sat back against the seat cushions, listening to Paul’s footsteps on the stairs, followed by the quiet creak of his bedroom door as it opened.
“Come over here.” Adam kept his voice low. He waited until he could sense Paul standing closer. Adam took advantage of the silence. He pursed his lips and sniffed the air, waiting until he could hear Paul fidgeting.
“You wanted something?” Paul asked, a tremor in his voice.
Adam licked his lips and ran his fingers over his chin. “What do you look like, Paul?”
“Excuse me?” He heard the note of puzzlement in Paul’s voice.
“It occurs to me that you’ve been working here a week, and I don’t know what you look like.” He waved his hand. “I don’t want to do that whole, ‘let me feel your face’ routine. I’d prefer to hear you describe yourself.” He settled back into the chair, fingers knitted together, resting in his lap, his face turned in Paul’s general direction.
“Oh, okay.” There was a pause. “I’m five feet eight, lean. I have longish brown hair, wavy on top, and blue eyes.”
Adam lifted his eyebrows. “Not sure why, but I pictured you smaller, maybe even with mouse brown hair, the nerdy type.” Hepaused for a moment to let his words sink in. “Do you work out at all, Paul? Do you like to get sweaty lifting weights?”
The brief silence that followed Adam’s question revealed much. Paul hadn’t expected that, and Adam found himself wishing he could see Paul’s expression. He could almost visualize it, the flushed cheeks, the startled eyes, the perfect picture of a deer caught in the headlights of a car.
“Yes, occasionally.” The syllables were drawn out, giving his words an edge of reluctance. “I focus mainly on my upper body, my chest, back and arms.”
Adam liked that image. It was a pity he’d never have been likely to run into Paul in London.
He sounds as if he’d be my type.
“Hmm.” Adam gave a hum of approval. Time to move things up a gear. “What’s your mouth like, Paul?”
“My-my mouth?”
“Uh-huh. Are you a good kisser? Do your lovers like to suck at your mouth?”
More silence, which was how Adam wanted it. He wanted Paul off-balance, not to mention freaked out.
