Page 53 of Just Business
Stupid leg fucked everything up. Eli closed the distance, drew Justin off the bed and into his arms to chase away the ghosts and the worry. “I don’t mind.”
Justin relaxed. “Maybe I should make the coffee? I do know a thing or two about brewing a cup...” He pulled back. “Assuming you have decent coffee and not some store-bought shit.”
Now there was the Justin he knew and lo—shit. Eli stepped away. “Brat.”
“Barista, thank you very much.”
Eli snorted to cover the sudden uptick in his heart. “Not anymore.”
“Once a barista...” Justin’s smirk was exactly the kind Eli loved to flog away.
Later, perhaps. “Whole beans from Commonplace Coffee. There’s a drip maker, but I usually use a French press.”
Justin nodded, seriousness wiping away the snark. “I can work with that.”
“Let me grab a t-shirt and I’ll get your backpack.” After all the years of modest dress being pounded into his head, going outside shirtless was a bit too much. Shorts were hard, but he could manage that. He grabbed the top shirt off a pile in his closet and put it on. Might be cold, given the time of year, but he didn’t feel as naked.
Justin was entirely naked and in Eli’s hallway. “Hey, is this a chin-up bar?”
Eli stepped into the hall in time to see Justin grab the bar and execute a well-formed pull-up. The muscles of his back rippled and highlighted the bruises and welts there.
Justin hissed and dropped to the floor. “I forgot.” He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck.
“Your back will remind you.”
Justin laughed. “And my ass. And whatever other part you beat.”
Eli nodded to the stairs. “Coffee. I’ll get your bag.”
“No hints?” Disappointment there.
“If you want, open the door to your left.”
He did and reddened, his dick twitching. “Holy shit!”
The playroom wasn’t huge, but it did have quite the collection of floggers and whips and canes hanging on the wall. “If you’re good, I’ll let you do more than look.”
Justin swallowed and shut the door. “I make very good coffee.”
“You’d better.” With that, Eli gripped the railing and headed downstairs. He was already falling for Justin; no need toactuallydo a header down the stairs.
***
Coffee did nothing to ease the apprehension rising in Justin. He sipped at the cup he’d brewed and stared at the photos above Eli’s mantel. He recognized two from Jerusalem. One a long shot of the city with the Dome of the Rock prominent, while the other had to be of the Western Wall—a close-up of large stone blocks with tiny pieces of paper shoved in between the cracks. Prayers to God.
Had Eli left one of those slips? Was he even religious? How much had the trip cost?
Francis had been very well traveled.
Justin’s back ached from the shower, but his limbs were languid from the marathon of sex he and Eli had been having.
Lovers. Eli wanted to be more than just a Dom. And that playroom? It promised even more pleasure and mind-blowing orgasms. He should have been ecstatic, but the prickling in the back of his brain had started. Didn’t matter that Eli was amazing in bed and considerate out of it.
He scratched his neck. Doms lied to get what they wanted. And everything about this house screamed the differences between Eli and him, and it was the same gulf that had existed between Justin and Francis.
Money.
For fuck’s sake, even thecoffeewas decadent. Justin knew what these beans cost per pound. Sure, it was an excellent cup, but not anything he wouldeverhave as a daily brew. Eli? There wasn’t any other coffee in the house. The kitchen was bigger than his apartment, and it sported shiny stainless steel appliances and granite countertops. The stove was restaurant-grade. Everything in the cupboards and fridge was top-shelf, from the crackers to the freaking organic, hand-pressed orange juice. Sparkling, too, like the bathroom had been. Which meant a cleaning service, since it wasn’t Eli on his knees scrubbing the floor or the tiles in the bathroom.
