Passing Time Page 4

  He’d enjoyed the first round. Who said he had to play the thirty-five-year-old relic and fall into a coma so soon after he’d spent?

  “I’ll switch out the light.” He did so and returned to bed, listening to Jake breathe, waiting for him to make a move. When nothing happened, Louis reached out with the intention of giving Jake’s cock an encouraging stroke. As his hand made contact with a warm thigh, Jake grunted and rolled toward him. Louis prepared to reciprocate when Jake’s arm landed across his stomach and a deep snore rippled into his ear.

  Chapter Three

  Louis woke the following morning, rising through the various degrees of an oncoming headache, to the sensual heat of another body wrapped around his own. In his head it was May. The sixth to be exact. The location, Venice. They were celebrating Carter’s twenty-fifth birthday by spending the day in bed.

  Carter’s illness was years away. Now, they were luxuriating in the bubble of perfectly preserved memory. He ran his hands over Carter’s unblemished skin and pressed his mouth to his lover’s throat. The skin tasted perfumed, a vague, sweet tang that he found quite appealing. Not as appealing as having his lover in his arms again, though, warm and alive. Carter felt more muscular than he remembered, but if he didn’t open his eyes, he could sustain the fantasy. As long as he didn’t start thinking on those quietly forming doubts and instead poured all his concentration into Carter’s body, into Carter’s cock, already thickening in his grip.

  “Honey.” He squeezed gently. “You’ve got no idea how much I’ve missed this.”

  “It’s okay, Louis,” an amused voice replied. “We can do this all day if you like.”

  Louis opened his eyes. It wasn’t Carter’s wide blue gaze peering up into his own. No, Carter’s eyes were gray. Neither was Carter’s hot, trembling breath blasting against his face or Carter’s grip pinching the skin of his backside. There wasn’t a hope of it ever being Carter. Without a word he untangled himself from Jake and padded through to the en suite bathroom. He stepped into the shower cubicle to wash the remains of the dream, not to mention last night’s cooking oil from his body.

  Was it possible to wash away Jake too? A faint trace of his scent lingered on Louis’s skin beneath the greasy stench of the oil. He quickly switched on the shower. A jet of cold water smacked him clean in the face. He ducked out of its way and waited for the water to heat. In a moment, he’d have that rogue fragrance lathered away on a sea of citrus-scented soap. His memories of last night, however, might prove more of a challenge.

  He was in the midst of soaping his hair when he heard the shower door click open behind him. A cool breeze wafted into the cubicle and shivered against his backside. Louis angled closer to the water, silently cursing himself for not locking the bathroom door. He’d just begun to ease himself into believing last night held no more meaning than a few hours spent with a prostitute, and now Jake was here to undermine that belief. No prostitute had ever jumped into the shower with him before. They always seemed keen to get out of the door.

  The gushing water above his head changed pitch as Louis sensed rather than felt the hard, muscled body at his back. He didn’t move except to draw in a sharp, tight breath as Jake reached around his hip and curled a hand around his limp cock. Louis lowered his head. He wouldn’t allow himself to get hard. That way Jake might tire of him all the faster and leave both shower and apartment. Louis wouldn’t see him again, of course.

  All he had to do was not get excited by Jake’s firm, practiced touch. All he had to do was convince himself his skin tingled due to the force of the water cascading over his chest and not the soothing sensation of Jake’s steady hand working his cock. Louis stared at the while tiled wall swirling with steam and tried to lose his mind in the haze.

  When the fat, ripe head of Jake’s cock nudged between his cheeks, Louis grabbed the water dial and flipped it to cold, dousing both himself and Jake in a rapid burst of icy spray. Jake yelped and released Louis’s cock.

  Louis readjusted the temperature before turning around.

  “Sorry,” he said, not really meaning it.

  Jake stared hard at him. He didn’t say anything. He just moved in to slip both arms around Louis’s shoulders, enfolding him into a hug. Jake’s flagging but still-covered penis pressed against his own. Louis didn’t relax into him this time. He wasn’t sure what the hug was about. Jake didn’t seem in the slightest pissed off. That was the problem. It was as though Jake was offering comfort, although Louis was sure he’d given no indication of requiring any such thing. All he’d wanted was some quiet time to shower alone, and with no chance of that happening now, he gently but firmly pushed Jake away.

  “Breakfast!” Louis announced, though his voice barely registered over the noise of the shower. Stepping out of the cubicle, he hoped Jake wouldn’t follow. He dressed in armor of sweater and jeans. To help take his mind off letting Jake Harvey finger his ass, he moved out into the kitchen, whipped up a few eggs, and shoved the bowl into the microwave. He set about cleaning up yesterday’s cartons and plates full of barely touched food.

  “He’s still here,” Carter said from somewhere behind him as Louis swept a cloth across the breakfast bar. “You can’t scrub him into nonexistence with that grubby piece of rag.”

  “I’m just cleaning.” Louis scoured until his arm ached and the microwave’s metallic ting alerted him the eggs were cooked. He moved to the sink and wrung the cloth tight in both hands to draw out the water. “Needs doing.”

  “Presumably the airhead needs strangling too?”

  The cloth fell from Louis reddening fingers into the sink. He turned slowly to face his beloved perched on the coffee table, one slender leg hitched elegantly over the other.

  “He troubles me,” Louis said.

  “He disturbs you.”

  Louis lifted a shoulder. “Maybe.”

  “I’ve looked deep into his soul. I like what I see.”

  Something about the tone of Carter’s voice and his self-satisfied smirk led Louis to ask, “Were you watching us last night?”

  “I confess I might’ve peeked.” Carter set a cigarette to his lips.

  Louis tried to restrain his anger, but his tone betrayed him. “I’d rather you kept out of my bedroom in future.” Louis gestured to the cigarette. “That’s my last one.”

  Carter blew a long thin breath of smoke into the air and set the lighter back on top of the empty cigarette pack. “I thought you had no plans to see him again.”

  “I don’t. Surely I don’t need to explain to you the workings of a one-night stand?”

  “Doesn’t feel like just one night to me, my love. If you asked him nicely, he’d—”

  “I’m not going to ask him anything. Nicely or otherwise. In case you need reminding, my mother’s in the hospital. That’s the only reason I’m here. There’s no way I’m going to put—”

  Jake breezed out of the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his hips. “Put what where? Are you talking to yourself again?”

  “It’s a family trait.” Louis returned to the kitchen to take the eggs from the microwave.

  “Seriously?” Jake joined him and peered into the bowl. “Is that like an American thing?”

  “Guess so,” Louis said, leaving the eggs a moment to fetch some plates.

  “Cool. So, why did you leave England?”

  “I got bored of picking up my mother’s empty vodka bottles.”

  “Who have you got to pick up yours?”

  Louis looked up. Jake gazed back from over the breakfast bar, reminding him this was only some guy who worked in a pub. Yet, every time he asked a question, Louis answered. He wasn’t sure why that was, but still, there were some things yet untouched on he wouldn’t discuss. Not even with Jake.

  “I don’t drink vodka,” he said, a little more terse than planned.

  Jake rolled his eyes. “Only bourbon. I know.”

  Eager to change the subject, Louis peered into the bowl of rubbery-looking eggs on the counter.
“I’ve made a bit of a mess of breakfast.”

  “Never mind. I’m not exactly hungry for food right now, anyway.” Jake pressed a hand over Louis’s resting on the counter and stroked a finger across the knuckles. Such a tender caress had him drifting back to the sensation of Jake’s hands on his body the night before.

  “Would you like a coffee?” Louis pulled his hand free. No point getting sentimental about a simple fuck. “I’ve only got instant, I’m afraid.”

  “Instant’s fine,” Jake said as Louis took up the kettle. “But I don’t really care about eggs or coffee.”

  “Aren’t I under some kind of obligation to feed you?”

  Jake lifted his shoulders, the skin fair and unblemished, the bones and the muscles lithe. “I think you fulfilled all your obligations last night. You were incredible.”

  He spoke without a trace of insincerity Louis could detect. Still, at Jake’s age, all sex was incredible.

  “I knew you’d be like that,” he said. “Right from the beginning.”

  “The beginning of what?”

  “I mean, from when I first served you a double bourbon.” He colored. Perhaps he’d given away more than intended. “Heather and I were talking and—”

  Heather again. “I was a subject for discussion with the staff?”

  “It wasn’t like that. It’s something we do with the customers.”

  Louis arched an eyebrow. “Sleep with them?”

  Jake’s blush intensified. “We imagine what they’d be like in bed. We rate them. Don’t take offense. It’s only a game.”

  “What was my rating?”

  “I gave you a nine.”

  Teasing aside, Louis’s curiosity led him to ask, “How high does this scoreboard go?”

  “Ten.”

  Louis grabbed the bowl of congealed eggs, now cool and solid. He guided the lot into the waiting bin with the spoon.

  “Now I can report back you’re a definite twelve.”

  The bowl flipped over, bounced off the rim of the bin, and hit the floor, spewing cold egg over the tiles.

  “Shit.” Louis squatted to scoop the rubbery globs up in his hands.

  When he glanced up, Jake stood above him with the towel pooled around his feet.

  “Oops.” Jake grinned. “Now how did that happen?”

  How did what happen? The dropped towel or the raging erection?

  “I have to go out.” Louis stood and backed away, his mouth suddenly tight and dry.

  The smile faded from Jake’s face. “Have I done something wrong?”

  “No. I’m just due at the hospital.”

  “Is this because of what happened in the shower?” Jake bent to collect his towel off the floor.

  Louis frowned. “The shower?”

  “I had a condom on, Louis,” Jake said, blushing furiously as he straightened and secured the rogue towel around his waist. “I thought you wanted me.”

  “I…it wasn’t a case of not wanting you, Jake. I…I should go. My mother needs me.” Did he sound convincing? Or did Jake recognize it for the excuse it was? His lack of time had little to do with his mother, whom Louis was sure didn’t care if he was with her or not. No. This was more about getting away from Jake and more importantly the way Jake made him feel. How did Jake make him feel? Uncertain of himself for one. Nervous for another. He wished Jake didn’t have to be so damned pleasant about everything.

  “Okay, well, how about I stick around and fix you something for lunch?” Jake’s smile clicked back into place. Louis didn’t see how he could possibly object without coming across as a complete miserable bastard and making himself feel even worse than he did already in the process. But that was exactly what he had to do, wasn’t it?

  “Uh, I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” Louis moved toward the door, then looked down. He didn’t even have his shoes on.

  “Dinner, then? I can pop out and get us something from the deli. I’m free all day, so I can hang around.”

  Louis’s objection lodged in his throat, his tongue stiff and uncooperative.

  “Do you have the door code?” Jake continued, taking permission as read. “And a spare key? I need to get back in as well as out.”

  All he had to do was tell Jake he’d rather he leave. Even though it would mean sticking around and making sure he did, in fact, vacate the premises. The alternative was letting him stay. Jake didn’t seem the type to rob and run even if Louis had something worth stealing. He took comfort in the possibility of Jake losing interest and taking off before he returned.

  “Uh, the code’s written on a card on the wall by the front door, and the…the spare key is on the hook beside it.”

  “Great.” Jake grinned. “See you at lunch.”

  Louis half suspected he might jog over and give him a kiss on the cheek. Fortunately, he busied himself beneath the counter instead, tidying up the dropped eggs. Louis retraced his steps to the bedroom for his shoes. He thought about running a toothbrush over his teeth, but he needed to get away from Jake Harvey and what had happened between them last night and almost happened again this morning. Back in the lounge, he grabbed the cigarette pack off the coffee table and headed to the hall for his jacket. Carter waited beyond, leaning casually against the corridor wall. Louis ignored him, but still Carter’s voice chuckled in his ear.

  “If you asked, I’m sure he’d pack you a wholesome lunch in a nice little box.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Cart.” Louis took out a cigarette as he walked. The last one in the pack.

  Chapter Four

  “And now? Now I’m running out of things to say. Could you open your eyes or squeeze my fingers? At least let me know you’re in there somewhere, listening. C’mon, Mom. For me? For your son. Please?”

  Louis tightened his grip on the breathing corpse’s thin gray hand. There was no sign of her wanting to fight the inevitable. The machines, the constant beeps and rhythmic clicks controlled the battle for her. If those machines were unplugged, she’d die, and perhaps for purely selfish reasons, Louis needed her to live. To wake up and listen. He needed her to listen to the words I forgive you and know she understood them. Equally, he wanted her forgiveness for choosing his father and New York rather than the single-parent alcoholic he’d spent much of his life learning to loathe.

  Until that day came, Louis babbled. About anything and everything. The doctors told him there was every chance she sensed presence. He hoped so. The trouble was, he was fast running out of things to say.

  “I met someone yesterday.” He wasn’t sure telling her about his latest one-night stand was one of his better ideas. He’d exhausted every other topic of conversation except Carter, but he feared he might break at the mere mention of his name. “I’ve known him awhile. He works in the pub you were once so fond of on the high street. Harvey’s. Used to be the Prince of Wales in your day. His father owns the place. Jake’s his name. Uh, the guy I met, I mean, not his father. Although his father’s probably nearer my age than I am to Jake’s.” He paused. How did he get onto this subject? Was he so lacking in conversation?

  “The truth is I could use your company right about now. I think you’d understand a little of what I’ve been going through. You carried on loving dad after he left us. I know you loved him way more than you ever loved me.”

  His mother’s eyes remained stiffly closed. Her waxen skin hung loose around her skull. Louis dropped her hand, stood up, and gulped the antiseptic-clogged air as he moved toward the window. He tried to nudge it open, but the handle wouldn’t shift. He swallowed hard on the acid tingling at the back of his throat and peered though the blinds at the car park far below, wishing himself down there or indeed anywhere other than here.

  “How is she?” asked a soft voice from behind.

  “You should know,” Louis said, keeping his attention on the window. “You’re closer to her than I am.”

  “She’s not dead yet.”

  “Might as well be.” Louis straightened and turned to face his lover
. Carter peered at the bed. He looked wary, almost nervous. Perhaps the hospital brought back memories he’d rather forget. “This is all a waste of time. I thought I could make a difference. But I can’t.” His eyes stung with barely subdued tears. “To her, I might as well have died twenty years ago.”

  Carter raised his gaze from the bed. “Then why are you still here?”

  “Because she’s got no one else.”

  “She doesn’t have you either. You’re here through duty, not love. You owe this woman nothing.” Carter reached out to smooth a crease from the blankets. “There’s nothing stopping you from going home and resuming your dreary little existence. Carry on as you are, and who knows? In a couple of years you’ll be able to join her. Or me.”