Heart on the Run (19 page)

Under his gaze, Chaz’s dick swelled, thickening without the help of any stimulation other than optical. He glanced up at Chaz’s face. His lover’s mouth parted slightly, a light blush tinted his high cheekbones, his eyes darkened and lost focus. It was easy to imagine their thoughts mirrored each other’s perfectly. Fuck the shower, fuck the paint, hell, fuck everything as long as they got to fuck again…now.

His phone chirped annoyingly, the back-up alarm he’d set just in case he rolled over and fell back to sleep—which he almost always did. The damn thing did its job, though; it broke the spell between them, if not their erections.

Rounding the bed, he quickly swiped his finger across the screen to stop the hideous noise. When Chaz chuckled, he looked up; the damn man had his erection in hand, jacking it slowly.

“
Chaz?” he whispered.

“
Yes?”

“
How do you feel about Egg McMuffins?” Sprocket inquired. The look of utter disgust on Chaz’s face answered Sprocket’s question. “Um…never mind. Off to the shower I go.” He grabbed the towel on the chair in the corner of his room and headed to the en suite bathroom. Stopping at the door, he looked at the back of his hand, picking at the paint with his nail. Just like the sheets, it didn’t flake off. He licked his thumb—grimacing when he remembered the digit had the black shit on it also—then scrubbed at the same spot of skin he’d picked at.

It didn’t even dim. “Fuck,” he sighed. He should’ve read the bottle before covering his body with the shit, but he was a sucker for a killer Halloween costume, and this one was definitely on the level of serial killer status.

Maybe there was something on the bottle that gave removal tips. He turned and headed for the bedroom door, thinking he’d left the unused portion on the kitchen table yesterday.

He reached the door right when Chaz asked, “Where’re you going?”

“
Gonna go see if there are some cheats on the bottle about washing this off. You know, maybe baby oil or lemon juice or something asinine like that.” He cocked his head and wondered, “Do I even have baby oil? I’ve got lube…”

“
Are you going out like that?” Chaz pointed at him.

Glancing down, Sprocket realized he had a towel, but it was draped over his arm and not over his still half-mast dick. “Oh, guess not,” he chuckled, wrapping the towel low on his waist.

The bottle wasn’t in the kitchen, which meant it had probably been tossed. He lifted the lid on the garbage can. Damn, clean bag, and this was Thursday morning, trash day.

Okay…he headed to the living room and opened the laptop on the coffee table. A quick Google search came up with two possibilities for him—rubbing alcohol or makeup remover. There was a third thing called paint cleaning cream, but yeah, not likely he kept that on hand.

He had rubbing alcohol, and Mason kept makeup remover in his cosmetics kit, so Sprocket decided to give those two a try.

After grabbing the makeup remover, he came back into the room and stopped dead in his tracks, groaning at the sight waiting for him. Chaz was still naked on the bed, legs bent with his knees pointing out, slowly jacking his erection. The tip of it was flushed a heated red. Empathizing with that angry dark hue, Sprocket blew it a kiss.

“
So you found something?” Chaz’s voice was understandably breathy.

“
Uh…yeah…hopefully…” he mumbled, holding up the bottle as he took two steps toward the bed and heaven in Chaz’s hand. Catching himself, Sprocket shook his head and speed-walked to the bathroom instead. “I’m only gonna worry about my hands and wrists right now, the rest can wait until later.”

“
My place tonight? I promise I’ll work on the rest of your body then…”

How the hell was Sprocket’s towel staying on with his boner fighting against it? “Yes,” he whispered before disappearing into the bathroom.

He was in the shower, scrubbing the makeup remover between his fingers when he heard a commotion from the bedroom. He turned off the shower and tried to listen, wondering what the hell Chaz was doing in there.

“
Sorry, didn’t realize you were here,” Mason apologized in a high-pitched rushed voice.

“
Yeah, I am.” Chaz’s voice was loud and harsh in return.

What the fuck had Sprocket missed? Why did they both sound so out of character for each other?

Sprocket pushed open the glass shower door and hurried out to his bedroom, not worried about getting the floor or carpet wet.

He burst into the room, but Mason was already gone and Chaz was hurriedly getting dressed.

“
Chaz, what’s wrong? Where are you going? I thought you wanted to shower before work.” Sprocket walked over to him, but Chaz backed away, his hands in front of him in a defensive pose.

“
Just…stay… I need to get out of here.”

“
Why? Where’s Mase? What the fuck did he say to you?” Sprocket growled, but he didn’t advance again, hating the look of anger and pain in Chaz’s eyes.

That stopped Chaz’s jerky movements trying to pull up his tight-ass jeans. “Oh, so you knew he was here?”

“
I heard him when I turned off the shower.” Sprocket gestured over his shoulder toward the bathroom.

“
And yet you still come storming in here completely in the nude? Must be the rules of the house. Sorry I didn’t get the memo,” he spit out at Sprocket, giving up on his zipper and bending down to grab his shirt.

Sprocket suddenly felt the urge to cover his junk, something he’d never experienced before. He wasn’t an exhibitionist, but he sure as hell wasn’t shy either. “Rules of the house? Listen, honey—”

Chaz stopped with the shirt bunched in his fist. “Don’t call me honey.” He menacingly stepped closer to Sprocket. “How would you feel if you were masturbating to the thoughts of someone you ca— liked in the shower when his roommate barges into the room completely naked?” He stopped immediately in front of Sprocket, pointing at his nose.

“
Oh,” was the only word Sprocket could mutter at the moment.

“
Yeah, oh. I might’ve been able to take one thing or the other…him walking in without knocking like he had a right to your private area or him being naked…but both? And then you knew”—he took a deep breath, yanking his shirt on and scooping up his shoes—”you knew he was in here and still strolled on in naked yourself. You two have your own little nudist resort here, don’t you? I can’t do this. I won’t do this…this…whatever type of triangle it is.”

Sprocket shook his head. “Chaz, calm down, it’s not like that.”

Chaz stopped at the bedroom door, turning to look at Sprocket. “It isn’t?”

Encouraged that Chaz had lowered his voice, Sprocket took a step toward him. “No. We’ve known each other since we were kids. We used to take baths together. We showered in PE with each other. It isn’t a big deal seeing each other naked…but it isn’t like
that
.”

Straightening his back, Chaz stared Sprocket in the eyes. “Have you ever slept with him?”

Shit. How was he supposed to answer that question
and
put out this fire? “Well, yeah, we… He was my first…”

Chaz flinched like he’d been struck. “Really wrong answer,” he whispered before disappearing through the door.

Chapter Fourteen

Snatching another onion from the bag of Vidalias, Chaz rubbed his forearm across his streaming eyes and sniffed. After slicing through the brown papery skin about a half inch from the top of the onion, he added the scrap to the pile at his left.

Snick. Snick. Rustle.

On autopilot, he slipped skin from the onion and then sliced and diced. The acid stung his eyes, but what stung his heart was the ever present memory of Mason…young, hard body and broad smile, strolling buck assed naked into Sprocket’s bedroom. Even if he could forget the part where Chaz was jacking off at the time…

He couldn’t forget that bold swagger, the stride of a man confident of his welcome.

“
What are you doing?” Dermot sounded pissed.

Chaz paused, looking up. “Chopping onions,” he muttered, embarrassed to be caught sobbing over the prep like a first-year culinary student.

“
Those onions are for today’s French onion soup. They need to be quartered and sliced thin. Not reduced to a pile of mushy microscopic bits!”

Blinking in astonishment, Chaz’s ears burned and his stomach lurched. He glanced from the pile of onions to his boss. “I—”

“
Didn’t you look at the prep list?” Dermot raged, pointing across the room to the huge whiteboard with the daily menu on it.

“
Yes, boss.” Chaz ducked his head.
Stupid. Stupid for letting Sprocket distract him from the one truly meaningful thing in his life.
“I’m sorry.” His knife slipped from his fingers, and six hundred dollars’ worth of finely forged steel clattered from the marble prep board to the concrete floor.

“
Then—” Dermot spluttered unintelligibly for a second then snatched the bag of Vidalias and stalked off.

Exhaling in relief at not getting fired…and not being forced to endure a round of “what’s wrong with you today” questions, Chaz stooped to pick up his knife. Somehow, while he was bent over, he altered position and direction, and on his upward trajectory, slammed his head directly into the marble chopping block.

Pain seared his scalp, shot through him. He staggered and overcorrected, landing on his butt square in the middle of the kitchen. Dazed, he blinked to clear his vision.

“
Macy!” A strong, hard hand cupped his elbow. Dermot pulled him to his feet.

Chaz blinked again. Dermot’s face was blurry, and try as he might, Chaz couldn’t seem to get ahead of his tears. “Sorry, boss,” he mumbled. “I—”

“
Are you drunk? Hungover? What is wrong with you today?” Once again, Dermot cut him off. “Macy!” he shouted, staring into Chaz’s face.

Chaz squirmed under the intense scrutiny. “No. I’m not. Drunk. Or hungover and I’m fine.”

“
You’re not fine.” Macy appeared over Dermot’s shoulder, and she had to be standing on tiptoe to do that. “You’re bleeding.”

“
What?” Chaz reached up and discovered a damp spot on his hairline. That particular warm trickle it turned out was blood not sweat or tears.
Terrific.
“It’s nothing.” He shook Dermot’s hand off his elbow and turned to check the whiteboard for his next task. “I’m fine.”

“
It’s an OSHA violation and you’re going to sit your ass down in my office.” Dermot nodded toward the corner of the room where his desk, file cabinet, and a tall, narrow bookshelf were located. “And let Macy clean that up. Then, you’re going to take an early coffee break and come back in here with your head fucking screwed on straight and bust ass so this prep gets done before the lunch rush. Am I clear?”

Swallowing back a lump in his throat, Chaz nodded. “Yes, boss.”

Like a docile child, he let Macy lead him to the corner and push him into a seat.
Damn Sprocket and Mason fucking Garber anyway.
“I really am fine,” he insisted when Macy dropped to her heels next to him and removed a bulky white plastic first-aid box from beneath the desk.

“
Sure, you are,” she said easily, opening the box and rummaging around inside. “Just an accident that could happen to anyone.”

“
Yes,” Chaz leaped at the excuse. “Anyone could do that.”

“
Of course,” Macy continued, pulling out cotton balls and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. “You don’t normally have accidents like that. Nor do you normally mix up the prep. This isn’t you, Chaz. So you have to excuse us for being concerned.”