Page 21 of Naughty Dreams
With DJ, those eyes, the voice, the long, supple body, everything sounded like a come on, and he was tricky. But Roy thought he was being sincere.
“Let me tell Weller I’ll be a few minutes.”
When he returned, DJ was sitting on the bed. He watched Roy with liquid brown eyes touched with maple gold. The curve of his soft, wide mouth drew attention to his prominent cheekbones.
“You’re so very careful and thorough, Mr. Bloodwell. Makes a girl feel so safe.”
“Shut up, you little dickhead.”
“Nothing little about me.” DJ pressed a flat palm to the top of his curly hair, then shot a significant look downward. Roy rolled his eyes.
“Stand up.”
Roy moved behind him and removed the coat. As the shoulder had to shift with the movement, Roy felt his tension. “You should have cut things short tonight.”
“The music and the fans are bliss. The business end of it is the piper you pay for them. I don’t ever short the piper. Look what happened to the people of Hamlin.”
Roy set the coat aside, then eased the shirt off, heated skin and muscle under his fingers.
DJ expelled a breath, either from the relief of it being done, or in reaction to Roy’s touch. Roy tugged on the chain of the ichthys. “You want this off?”
“No. I don’t take it off that often. Did my extensive dossier tell you who gave it to me?”
“No.”
“My foster mom. She told me it means faith and family, the kind of love that wiggles its way into the tightest cracks. Did you like the show?”
“My job isn’t to watch the show.”
“Moss gave you the tape of the first one. You’ve watched it for your post-game review, right?”
“I’m seasons behind on the shows I actually like to watch.”
“Golden GirlsandNCIS? Did you learn your intense stare from Gibbs?”
Roy draped the coat and shirt over a chair and turned to face him. Time to make a decision, and in this moment, standing in DJ’s bedroom, the theory that they could pursue Dom and sub play in a totally-separate-from-the-job way felt like bullshit.
D/s wasn’t a teaching exercise for Roy. And even his club sessions on the road, while often one-time things, mattered. He connected to the other person. Maybe not soul deep, but it wasn’t a casual fuck.
So doing it with someone he was going to see daily, whose life was in his hands? It wouldn’t work. So that was that.
Roy came to stand in front of him, an appropriate arm’s length.
“DJ, I’m not your friend. I’m not here to stroke your ego or any other part of you. You joked about the Kevin Costner, Whitney Houston thing, but it’s a real issue. It’s easy to think that this kind of intimacy, me watching your ass, is about me wanting your ass. It’s not. And you don’t want mine. I’m as far from your world—and as uninterested in it—as you can possibly imagine.”
DJ studied Roy, looking for something. Something he found, because the tight set of his mouth eased. “With your portfolio, you could have picked anything. Corporate protection, consulting. Military contract work. Probably the only kind ofdetail more chaotic and unpredictable than watching the ass of a rockstar.”
His expression tightened, and he stepped close enough to poke a finger against Roy’s chest. “You were a wannabe headbanger in your garage with a second hand set of drums or a guitar. You loved the music, loved getting deeper into it than just playing tunes in your bedroom or souped-up junk car. I’ll bet you have a hell of an album collection, and when you need to center yourself, you grab a beer, put in your vintage copy of AC/DC’sLet There Be Rockand Zen out.”
The finger curled between the buttons of Roy’s dress shirt, taking a stroke against the white T-shirt beneath. Roy glanced down and lifted his gaze. Slow. “Dory, who the hell do you think you’re playing with?”
“A Dom. One who knows exactly what I’m doing and why.” DJ’s cheeks had that faint tinge again. His nail dug in a little, not demanding, but wanting more, trying to hold on. “We’ve noticed one another, the secret bat signal and all that. It doesn’t have to be a thing. Just a way to blow off steam, fill a need, when we’re both off shift. Like going and getting dinner because everyone has to eat.”
“We had this discussion.”
“I made the suggestion, briefly, and you said no. Even more briefly. This is my longer pitch.” He flashed Roy a weary smile. “With the traveling you do, you have to fill your need for it at places along the way, right? Getting recognized is a risk I don’t take, and it’s not because I’ll be seen. A rockstar in a kink club? That just adds to my reputation. But it attracts the wrong kind of person. Understand?”
Roy did, enough to feel a surge of protective anger. “You’ve been there?”
