Rough [02] - Roughhousing (9 page)

Chapter Six

Sunday was spent finishing the last of the clean up work on the courtyard, preparing it for the arrival of the new fountain the following weekend. After a quick clean-up, they spent the afternoon visiting Bram's sister, taking turns reading her chapters from the latest romance mystery author she had fervently read before her accident ten years ago.

Disfigured, paralyzed, and comatose as a result of being forced off the road and into a bridge abutment by a jilted boyfriend, Isabel Lord had spent the last ten years in the care of a rehab and nursing facility. Or at least her body was there. The medical staff had long ago established that her brain activity was gone and without the ventilator and feeding tube, Isabel's body would cease to exist. Legally responsible for his sister's care, Bram could have removed her from life support, but his love for her and his guilt over not being there to prevent the attack wouldn't let him. Once a week, every week, Bram spent time with his sister, telling her about his work, his life, and his problems.

Wanting to be a part of Bram's life, James had no problem with the arrangement. Whether he gave Bram a few hours to himself for the visit or he tagged along, James understood and respected the man for such devotion. He loved Bram even more for it. It made him think about the lack of ties he had to his own healthy but closed-minded family.

They returned to Bram's home a little after five o'clock, but despite the early hour, James was beginning to feel antsy. He liked staying here. He liked being at Bram's side, liked it too much. Too much too soon had always led to heartache and disappointment before. He needed to take it slow, be sure. Staying another night would only make it harder to leave the next day.

He didn't want to start looking needy, but having someone like Bram in his life was addictive. James kept clothes here for emergency stay overs, but it wouldn't be smart to monopolize Bram's entire weekend, every weekend. They hadn't had any rough spots in their relationship as a result of too much time spent together, but it was only a matter of time, wasn't it?

Walking through the back door into the gleaming, cozy kitchen, James resisted the urge to remove his jacket and get comfortable. He stuffed his hands deep into the pockets to keep them away from the zipper. His stomach was silently churning, but he tried to look non-nonchalant.

"Guess I'll just grab my dry cleaning and head on back to my apartment.” He swallowed down the lump forming at the back of his throat. “It's been a great weekend, but we both have work tomorrow.” James chanced a quick look at Bram's face and the disappointment that greeted him made his resolve quiver a bit. He stammered, suddenly unsure of his decision. “You'd probably like some time to yourself before Monday morning rolls around, anyway.” He smiled and shrugged, but he couldn't hold Bram's gaze for fear the man would see his true feelings.

When no response came, James moved to run upstairs to grab his things, but at the last minute a band of iron wrapped around his wrist and tugged him back.

"Hold on there, Tiger.” Bram shifted his grip from James’ wrist to his hip, easing their bodies together face to face. He used his other hand to tilt James’ face up.

Feeling exposed and somehow guilty, James’ gaze darted to Bram's face and then away, only to find it drawn back up by some invisible force to lock with the other man's patient stare.

"What's the hurry, Jamie? It's still early.” A soothing hand ran down his hip and back up, and then settled on the low curve of his spine. The heat radiated through his jeans. James clenched his ass to stop the tingle the warmth started glowing in his groin.

"What do you say we make something to eat? Spend some time on the couch watching the news?” Bram's expression looked hopeful and James knew his resolve to remain partially aloof was crumbling fast.

Bram winked at him and slid a hand down the back of James’ jeans, letting it rest against the beginning swell of his ass. “We've been going at it full speed all weekend. I've been looking forward to a few quiet hours that didn't involve anything more strenuous than holding on to you."

The hand on his chin moved to cup the back of his head. James immediately relaxed into the kneading pressure.

"And that,” Bram said, pulling James closer until their thighs rubbed, and his breath warmed James’ cheek, “requires you,” he added, kissing the corner of James’ mouth, “to be here."

James melted into the tightening embrace, opening his mouth to the insistent nudge of Bram's tongue, sweetening the gentle kiss until it became a passionate, fierce clench.

When Bram was done devouring him, he pulled back a mere inch or two. James was surprised when he realized his fists were wrapped in the front of Bram's shirt. Whether it was from the lack of food or the intensity of the kiss, his knees went suddenly weak and he leaned into Bram's solid, inviting body for support.

James licked his lips and tried not to pant. Even his eyes refused to focus for several long, heart-pounding beats. He gave a jerky, little nod. “Yeah, okay.” He wet his tingling lips again. “I could hang out for a while yet."

"Good.” One of Bram's square hands began to stroke his ass through his worn jeans. “It's been great having you here all weekend. I'm not looking forward to letting you go."

"Don't like to sleep alone?” James was surprised to hear his own voice was raspy, desire roughening his words and stirring interest south of his waistband.

"Don't like doing things without you to share them.” Bram touched their foreheads together then straightened, gaze locked on James. “Including sleeping.” He kissed James’ chin, winked, and gave an exaggerated leer. “And any other activity that includes you being naked and willing."

A sharp sting bit his butt cheek. James yelped and jerked forward, crushed against Bram's chest.

Bram soothed the swell of flesh he had just swatted, a chuckle rumbling up out of his chest to vibrate through James’ entire body. James felt the man's hands grab hold of his hips and gently push him away as he said, “Right now, I'll settle for some old-fashioned cuddling on the couch. I'm starving and as exotic as it sounds, I really don't want to eat hot chili out of each other's navels."

Rubbing the last of the fire from his butt, James chuckled. “I'm with you. Let's find some bowls. Your navel, as nice as it is, doesn't hold anywhere near enough to feed a starving man.” He boldly ran a hand over Bram's hard-packed abs and playfully wiggled his eyebrows at a surprised but grinning Bram. “But we might have to reconsider that option for dessert."

* * * *

Monday morning at the office was a bit more hectic than usual for James. He had tried to schedule time to talk to Mr. Dunn about the restoration project additions Bram had brought up over dinner, but Dunn had been called away unexpectedly. James had been reassured by his secretary that it had nothing to do with Mrs. Dunn, but she wasn't forthcoming with a more detailed explanation. There was a palpable air of anxiety among the secretarial staff and murmured whispers around the water cooler that seemed to die away whenever James approached. He caught snatches of conversations where Eclipse Construction was mentioned.

James attributed it all to the dinner party Friday night. He assumed his co-workers were adjusting to his uncharacteristic openness in bringing a boyfriend with him to a business-related function. And not just any boyfriend, he was dating Abraham Lord, owner of the biggest and best construction company around. He hadn't given it much thought until just now, but Bram was an amazing catch and it was natural people would gossip about it. James shrugged off the whispers and hesitant smiles, suddenly strangely okay with being the center of discussion.

Coming straight to work from Bram's house had thrown off his routine. He felt vaguely like he was hurrying to catch up with the day despite having arrived half an hour earlier than usual to accommodate Bram's early schedule.

Even with the slight disorientation it leant to his day, James didn't regret it. Sleeping with someone who cared about you won hands down over sleeping alone any day. He could easily get used to it and that worried him more than anything else did. Diving in too fast to a relationship was a trap he had fallen into when he was younger. He'd learned since then. Slow and easy, no surprises and no expectations. Bram's repeated declarations of love and commitment, and his own desires aside, James told himself repeatedly it was better this way for both of them. If Bram really meant it all, time would show him.

Two phone calls from Bram later and a quick agreement to meet at Bram's after work the following day, James finished off his workload and reluctantly headed home to his own apartment.

Waiting for the elevator to arrive, James mentally relived the moment weeks ago when his neighbor had attacked him. Williams had assaulted him, attempted to grope, fondle, and kiss him while holding him pinned to the wall by his throat, but James ended up being the one the superintendents had served an eviction notice on.

If Bram hadn't shown up early for their first date and intervened, James was pretty sure what the outcome could have been for him. He shuddered at the memory and his stomach flopped and churned. As it was, Bram had planted the man's face in the wall and killed one of Williams’ pet pit bulls with his bare hands to save James. Now James was faced with the prospect of running into the vindictive, ugly man every time he entered or left his own apartment. He really needed to start looking for a new place to live.

Exiting the elevator, James cautiously stepped out into the hallway, briefcase protectively held high and his keys protruding from his clenched fist. If he was going to meet trouble, he was going to be more prepared than last time.

The hall was empty, but as he strode past Williams’ door, the sound of several deep, male voices jeering and hollering at what sounded like a ball game of some kind on the TV carried out into the hall. Great. Now there was an entire apartment full of assholes here to taunt him.

Gripping his briefcase tighter, James fumbled at the lock to his apartment and hurriedly opened it to slide in behind its protective weight. Compared to having Bram at his side, the door was a flimsy excuse for protection, but it was better than his leather briefcase.

He rolled the tumblers of the old lock into place, slid the deadbolt home, and heaved a sigh of relief. He had insisted Bram let him handle the problem on his own, but in truth, Williams scared him.

Williams had gone from bully to potential rapist in a short span of time with James. The hard-muscled man was all brawn and very little brain. He was crude, immoral, and enjoyed hurting things. He bred pit bulls for use in illegal fights and used them to scare the children in the building. James had actually overheard the man boast about the joy of watching a competitor's dog die a grisly death at the hands of his own bulky, vicious beasts.

James loosened his tie and shrugged out of his suit coat. Angry at having the memory of the incident dredged up again, he shook his head and spoke to the empty room, “Fucking cretin!” The thought of Williams laying his hands or his lips on James again sent a surge of bile up the back of James’ throat.

A loud slam shook a wall. It was followed by a hooted cheer of triumph and the faint sound of glass breaking.

It was too early on a workday evening for this.

Disgusted, James shook off all thoughts of his neighbor and went into the bedroom to change.

Dressed in worn jeans and a loose, soft sweater to fight off the slight autumn chill in the night air, James grabbed a granola bar, took a couple of swigs from the bottle of water in the refrigerator, and wandered into his living room. He spent the next couple of hours poring over the blueprints and modifications he had designed for the Becker Estate.

Immersed in his favorite addiction, James ignored time until his stomach complained again and his eyes were watering from the reflected light off the drafting table.

The microwave clock read eleven-fifteen p.m. when he warmed up a cup of instant noodles and set it on the counter to cool. James wandered to the bathroom, relieved himself, and then flopped down on the couch, leaving only the TV to act as a light in the room.

Fifteen minutes later, soup uneaten and TV muted and forgotten, James burrowed down into the couch cushions where he and Bram had made out on their first date and drifted off to sleep. Visions of the passionate, gorgeous, mountain of a lover he had stumbled into a relationship with played over and over in his head.

The apartment was dark when James woke up. The faint light from the silent TV set cast a dim glow around the room, making gray shadows dance over the furniture and walls. Moonlight streamed in through a parted curtain, but the feeble rays fell just past the windowsill.

At first, James couldn't remember what had awakened him, but he knew a sound or a touch had startled him. Blinking back the hazy film of sleep from his eyes, he let his sight adjust to the darkness. He lay completely still, waiting for whatever it was to repeat, eyes searching the apartment for a hidden intruder or something out of place.

Nothing happened for several hammering heartbeats. Then just as James was about to dismiss the whole thing as a dream, the sound of metal scraping on metal pulled his eyes to the front door. It was a faint rasping, more like a mouse scratching than anything else, but when the doorknob rattled and turned a quarter turn, light reflecting off the brass handle, James shot up off the couch like a rocket.

Once on his sock-covered feet, James stood frozen in place, uncertain of what to do next. Thoughts of the new lock Bram had spent so much time picking out surfaced in his mind. It lay forgotten in this morning's rush to work from a different part of town, boxed and waiting on Bram's kitchen counter.

The handle wiggled again. James started breathing again and moved toward the door, grabbing a heavy, old, iron lamp off a side table as he tiptoed closer. Torn between calling the police and barricading the door, James irrationally chose to do neither. Instead, he pressed his ear to the door and listened, eyes riveted on the door handle.