Rolling his eyes, Eric wrapped his arm around Solo’s waist. “There’s no way I can pick you up if you fall.” He led Solo into the bedroom and onto the side of the mattress. “Water?” he offered.
Solo shook his head.
Eric set the bottles on the bedside table before kneeling at Solo’s feet. “How’s your bike?”
“Fucked,” Solo mumbled, shrugging out of his vest.
“I got worried when you didn’t call me back.” Eric removed Solo’s boots and socks. He hated to sound like a nagging wife, especially when the two of them had only fucked twice, but he also hated the thought of something serious happening to Solo without being informed.
“Broke my phone.” Solo unzipped his jeans as he fell back onto the bed.
Eric stood and reached for Solo’s waistband. He felt a bandage and pushed Solo until he rolled to his side. “Shit,” he said, drawing his finger over a gauzy bandage on Solo’s lower back. “Should you sleep on your stomach?”
Slowly, Solo shook his head from side to side. “Doesn’t hurt,” he said before rolling to his back again.
Eric assumed it was the pain medication doing its job. He tugged on the faded denim until he managed to work the other man’s jeans down. When he revealed Solo’s flaccid cock, he couldn’t help himself. He sucked the cock into his mouth for just a moment before releasing it.
“I told you, I can’t fuck tonight,” Solo groaned without opening his eyes. “Just wanted to be here.”
“I know, but I needed a quick taste.” Eric pulled Solo’s jeans off before folding them up. He set them beside Solo’s boots along with the scuffed leather vest. “You’ll have to get a new vest.”
Solo opened one eye when Eric pulled the quilt and sheet back. “You’re going to have to move enough to get in bed,” Eric informed Solo. “I’ve already told you, you’re too heavy for me to lift.”
With a series of grunts, Solo maneuvered his body under the sheet until his head rested on a pillow. “Suck my dick again.”
Eric touched his tongue to the healing split in his lip. He could suck Solo soft without reopening the wound, but if Solo got hard, the cut would surely split again. “Hang on.” Eric returned to the living room to turn off the lights. He repeated the procedure with the bedroom lamp on Solo’s side of the bed before shucking his sweats and climbing in next to the injured man.
“Did you forget something?” Solo mumbled, sounding wasted.
“Nope, just wanted to take care of a few things first.” Eric reached down and pulled the top sheet and quilt up to Solo’s mid-thigh before scooting down until he was eye-level with Solo’s cock. He cursed himself for turning off the lamp as he reached for the long flaccid cock. A soft snore came from Solo just as Eric wrapped his lips around the head of Solo’s shaft.
Shit.
If he were a nice guy, he’d leave Solo alone so he could sleep. He sucked and twirled his tongue around the crown, knowing he wasn’t that nice.
Solo groaned in his sleep.
Eric grinned and released his cock. As much as he wanted to continue, he felt like a perv. It was obvious Solo was too out of it to wake up. Grabbing the covers, he pulled them up and pressed as close to the other man as he could without hurting him. Both of Solo’s arms were bandaged, but Eric had no way of knowing how bad the wounds were.
Eric pressed his lips to the spider tattoo on the side of Solo’s neck. Why, he didn’t know, but just looking at that fucking tattoo made him horny. He’d asked Solo what the significance of the tat was and the only answer he’d received was that the spider was cool. Eric realized it was as good a reason as any to get something inked onto your skin, so he’d let it drop. Kissing the tattoo now, he couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d been told the truth or just the reason Solo gave to outsiders.
Pulling back, Eric laid his head on his own pillow. There was so much about Solo he didn’t understand, and he wondered if he ever would.
Chapter Four
Solo woke with Blue’s cheek resting on his chest, his bandaged arm slung around the other man’s lean body. He smiled, feeling content as he rubbed his lips against the top of Blue’s dark head. He stilled when it hit him. Never in his thirty-four years had he slept with someone else. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the previous night. Had they had sex?
“Morning,” Blue said, kissing Solo’s chest.
Solo opened his eyes and stared down at Blue. “Why am I here?”
Blue carefully extracted himself from Solo’s hold. “You don’t remember?”
“Did I fuck you?” Solo licked his lips. The last thing he remembered was being rushed to the hospital in the back of an ambulance. No, that wasn’t exactly true, he realized. He did remember the commotion at the hospital between staff and his brothers from the club. How they’d found out about his accident he wasn’t sure, but he’d heard them, and he thought he remembered Rowdy taking him home, so how had he gotten from his place to Blue’s?
“No. You got here around ten-thirty, high on pain meds and so tired you couldn’t keep your eyes open.”
Solo didn’t understand his actions. It wasn’t like him. He looked down at himself, seeing the homemade quilt covering the lower half of his body and felt like he was going to get sick. He thrust the blanket away, groaning as his sore muscles protested the move. “Bathroom,” he said. He clenched his jaws against the pain as he got out of bed.
“Did you bring your pain meds with you?”
“I don’t know.” Solo spotted his neatly folded jeans and bent to pick them up. “Christ!” he growled as pain shot up his back.
“Let me.” Blue scrambled out of bed to retrieve Solo’s jeans. He held them up and gave them a shake. It was obvious Solo had indeed brought the pills. “Is it okay if I search the pockets?”
“Sure.” Solo continued on toward the bathroom.
“You’ll need to take them with food. You take care of business while I make breakfast,” Blue suggested.
Solo stopped in the doorway to the bathroom. “You’re gonna cook?”
Fuck.
His own mother hadn’t cooked for him.
“Sure. If that’s okay?”
Solo thought about it for a moment, wondering what it would mean if he let Blue make him breakfast. “Ummm, yeah, guess so.” He entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him. As soon as he was alone, he relaxed and blew out a breath.
It was just a moment
, he tried to tell himself. The contentment he’d felt waking with Blue in his arms had to have something to do with the pain meds he’d taken the previous night. Had to be, right?
Staring at himself in the mirror, he scowled. “What the fuck’re you doing here?”
“Eggs fried or scrambled?” Blue asked from the hallway.
Solo glanced toward the closed door. “Either,” he replied. When he turned back to find a grinning man reflected in the mirror, he growled.
“Okay, I left a robe for you on the bed.”
Solo moved to the toilet and relieved himself, flushing before he’d finished peeing.
“I should go back to the bedroom, get my shit and get the hell out of here,” he said to the artfully arranged black and white framed photos above the commode. Who the fuck decorated a bathroom?
Blue.
The answer came to him as quickly as the question popped into his head. He thought about Blue’s obvious desire to build a home for himself. How had two people with such similar backgrounds grown up to be so different? It wasn’t the first time he’d asked himself the question, and as long as he hung around Blue, it wouldn’t be the last.
After looking around, he found a stack of plush washcloths in a small cabinet beside the shower. He stared at the slate-tiled shower and shook his head, wanting nothing more than to climb inside with a naked Blue in his arms. Unfortunately, it would be another day or two before he’d be able to handle the spray against his road rash.
Instead, he’d have to settle for a whore’s bath and brushing his teeth with his finger and borrowed toothpaste. By the time he felt somewhat human again, he decided to stay long enough to eat before heading back to the safety of his place.
* * * *
Eric was just about to call Solo when he heard shuffling footsteps working their way toward the kitchen. “Did you find the bathrobe I left for you?”
“Yeah,” Solo replied, appearing in the doorway. “Thanks.” He glanced down at the black satin robe. “Really?”
Eric shrugged as he set a bowl of scrambled eggs in the center of the table. “I wear it sometimes. Give it a while, and you’ll figure out why.” He returned to the stove and placed ten sausage links on a plate. “Orange juice or milk?”
“Whatever,” Solo grumbled, taking a seat at the table. “You didn’t need to do this.”
“I know.” Eric would have offered to make breakfast for anyone who’d spent the night, but for some reason, he wanted to cook for Solo. Normally, it was a sense of obligation that made Eric offer, but with Solo, it was the fact he wanted him to stay longer. He set a gallon of milk and a carton of orange juice on the table along with a carafe of coffee. “Do you take sugar in your coffee?”
“Goddamn, Blue, you’re not running a fucking restaurant here. Sit down and stop waiting on me. If I need sugar, I’ll fucking get up and get it myself.”
Solo’s use of the nickname was the only thing that kept Eric from getting angry. It was obvious Solo hurt, and equally obvious he wasn’t much of a morning person. With a resigned sigh, Eric sat to Solo’s left at the small square table. He placed the pain pills next to Solo’s plate. “If you want, I can help you wash your wounds and change the bandages.”
“Why would you do that?” Solo asked.
“Why do you keep asking me that?” Eric returned. “Haven’t you ever had someone care enough to do shit for you?”
The expression on Solo’s face nearly crushed Eric. “Not that kind of shit. Rowdy’s got my back when I’m riding and fighting, but no way in hell would he offer to wash my back.”
“His loss.” Actually, Eric was happy Rowdy didn’t take care of Solo the way he deserved to be taken care of. It was obvious from Solo’s reaction to the question that he hadn’t experienced a loving relationship of any kind. It was sad, but it made Eric more determined than ever to show Solo what he’d missed out on. He used his fingers to pick up a sausage link. “I ran that license plate.”
Solo dropped his fork. “Fuck, I can’t believe I forgot about it. Who’s it registered to?”
“Harold Sterling. Name sound familiar?” Eric asked.
“Yeah. You get an address?” Solo asked.
Eric contemplated the question while he bit into the sausage. If he gave Solo the information, he had no doubt Solo or Rowdy would try to go after the asshole.
Shit.
Not for the first time he wondered why the hell he’d agreed to work with the big biker. It was beyond stupid.
Eric had joined the police force in an effort to bring a sense of order and stability to his life. It had worked until he’d spotted a sexy-as-fuck wet dream sitting at the bar at Lucky’s. His gaze locked on the spider tattoo creeping its way up Solo’s neck. “Is our original deal still in place?”
“We have no deal when it comes to Harold. We agreed that when we found the man responsible for making that kid sick, I wouldn’t kill him.” Solo poured a glass of milk. “Now, do you have an address?”
Eric leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair. “Fuck!”
“Maybe later,” Solo mumbled around a bite of eggs. “For now, I just need the address.”
“I’ll give it to you tomorrow. I doubt Harold’s going anywhere between now and then. In the meantime, you stay here. I have to make an appearance at the station, and I’d still like to talk to some of the students at Truman, but that shouldn’t take more than a few hours. While I’m out, I’ll pick up some first aid supplies and something to make for dinner. You can spend the day sleeping, watching TV or whatever.”
“I’m not staying here,” Solo argued. “I’ve got my own damn house.”
“Yeah, and those wounds need to be washed and bandaged. Besides, you just took your meds, so you’re not fit to drive anywhere.”
“I could call Rowdy to pick me up,” Solo countered, a scowl on his handsome face.
“Do you really want him to know my address?” Eric asked. He wasn’t afraid of Rowdy, but things could get complicated if the Grave Diggers found out where he lived. “Listen, you can barely walk. There’s nothing you can do today, anyway. Be the tough guy tomorrow. Today, just relax, and let me take care of you.”
“Speaking of Rowdy, I need to call. There’s no doubt he’ll at least stop by my place to check on me.” Solo reached for a second helping of eggs and stole the last two sausage links.
“Want me to pick you up a prepaid phone while I’m out?” Eric asked. He’d do damn near anything to keep Solo put for the day. He couldn’t explain it, but he liked the way the other man looked in his house. The thought of spending time with Solo thrilled him.
“My wallet should be in my jeans. Grab whatever money you need,” Solo replied. He glanced around the kitchen. “You really like those black and white pictures. I saw some in your bathroom, too.”
“I took ‘em,” Eric confessed. “I can’t afford good artwork, so I decided I could do as good a job as some of those I see in Walmart and stuff.” Truth was, he’d really gotten into photography once he’d started. His camera wasn’t fancy, but he’d been saving up for a nice one. Most of his photographs were of scenery, but for the kitchen, he’d decided to go to an antique store and take pictures of old kitchen utensils. He wasn’t sure how they’d work at the time, but he loved them once they’d been framed and matted. That was something else he’d taught himself to do. The price custom shops charged for a cheap frame and a colored border of cardboard was ridiculous.