Love Him Free: Book One of On The Market

by Lindsey, E. M.

  ‘Okay,’ Simon finally said, and Rocco felt his grin stretch wide enough it nearly split his face.

  ‘When?’

  ‘Wednesday night after close.’

  Rocco felt the vibration of his throat with his hum as he nodded. ‘Tomorrow, you can show me the market. I’ll come over when you close.’ He made sure it was a statement, not an offer. Simon’s anxiety was obvious, how he’d say no, how he’d run, even when he didn’t want to. Rocco didn’t mind applying a little firm hand where it was needed—especially knowing Simon wanted him—and more than that, he liked him.

  After a beat, Simon’s shoulders moved with a laugh and he shook his head, but the delight in his eyes wasn’t a rejection. ‘Fine. I can close early. Come by at six.’

  That settled, Rocco knew he had to get out before things got carried away. He pulled the thin leash from his pocket and clipped it to James before rising, then held a hand out to Simon. His palm was warm and a little slick from the pizza grease, but he clung tight as Rocco pulled him to his feet.

  ‘Walk me out.’

  Simon nodded, and he stayed close enough that Rocco could feel his body heat as they approached the door. He twisted the leash around his palm just before they stopped, and he spun fast, gripping Simon by the waist.

  Simon’s mouth parted with a puff of air as Rocco spun him, then pinned him to the wall by the door and nosed along Simon’s cheek—right over a smattering of freckles that looked like the night sky. His lips were open, grazing Simon’s cheek, and he pulled back to give himself signing space.

  ‘I like you,’ he repeated.

  Simon’s swallow was heavy, his adam’s apple bobbing. ‘I like you.’

  Rocco’s mouth quirked in a half grin. ‘Kiss me good night.’ Yet again, not a question. He saw war waging in Simon’s eyes, fear with need with hesitation with raw desire. He let it go on only a moment more. ‘Kiss. Me.’ His signs were sharp, demanding, and eventually, Simon nodded.

  Rocco was kind enough not to torture him more, not to make him work too hard for it. He closed the distance between them, tucking his hand behind Simon’s short curls, burying his fingers in the soft locks, twisting them around as his lips parted and he took the thing he’d wanted since he set eyes on Simon.

  The kiss was hot—it was sloppy. It was unpracticed. Simon seemed unsure what to do with his tongue, with his mouth, but Rocco didn’t mind. He nudged Simon’s lips apart with his own, and took the lead. Simon tasted of oregano and tangy sauce and something else that was uniquely him.

  Rocco groaned, he pressed his body hard against Simon’s. He felt him hard, throbbing, felt the way his pulse rocketed. He was close, Rocco realized. He was on the edge of coming. He thrust his tongue deeper, let his own erection—just barely—graze Simon’s, and he felt it when it happened. He felt the blaze of flush shoot through Simon’s skin, felt his body stutter, felt the way Simon’s fingers dug into Rocco’s arms, painful and present.

  When he pulled back, Simon’s eyes were shut, but there was a look of hesitant shame on his face. Simon had come in his pants, like some teenager who had never been kissed, and something niggled at the back of Rocco’s brain. But this moment was fragile, delicate—thin ice across a lake and Rocco didn’t want to crack it just yet.

  He dropped another soft, careful kiss on Simon’s lips, coaxing him present, urging his eyes to open. When they did, he smiled. ‘Goodnight, beautiful.’

  Simon nodded. He didn’t move, and Rocco deliberately didn’t look down to see if the wetness had darkened the front of his jeans.

  ‘Tomorrow?’ he added.

  Simon nodded again, his limp arms falling to his sides.

  Rocco let out a small breath, then caressed the side of Simon’s face before reaching for the door. He didn’t break eye contact until he was in the hall, then he pressed the tips of his fingers to his mouth, offering Simon a last breath of a kiss, and he was gone.

  He didn’t look back, didn’t let Simon know he was aware of what happened. He just put one foot in front of the other…and he started to make a plan.

  * * *

  Rocco had never been big on sleeping in. His routine had him up at dawn for a morning run, then weights, since he decided to make film his career—so even on vacation, sleeping until seven was a luxury. His body still ached from the drive and from sleeping in his car, but he threw on track pants and took James for a walk around the property. He had forgotten to ask about a gym, but he decided a few days off wasn’t going to kill him.

  Hell, if it came back that he wasn’t going to be able to film for three years, what was the point anyway? Trying not to let frustration seep in, Rocco went back to his room and set James up in the little crate before deciding to check out the buffet for breakfast. He snatched his phone from the nightstand, then tapped out a good morning text to Simon before ignoring the ones from his brother and heading back out.

  The mountain air felt good on his heated skin, even if it was drier than he was used to, but he felt like he could live there comfortably. And fuck if that was a thought he wasn’t expecting. He liked Simon—maybe not enough to propose marriage, but even that didn’t seem like the wildest notion for a future.

  He wasn’t sure what it was about the guy that had him so captivated. He was the opposite of everything Rocco had ever looked for in a partner, but maybe that was just it. Rocco’s usual taste of spoiled twinks had gotten him nowhere except hiding out in some mountain lodge, and Simon was the first person to show genuine concern about him—and not the figure he was to the public.

  The thought calmed him a little as he made his way through the lobby doors, and he followed the smell of bacon to a dining room where a large spread was set up against the far wall. There was a short host stand, and a bored looking man who couldn’t have been older than early twenties wearing a tight button down and a smirk as he gave Rocco a once over.

  If Rocco hadn’t been utterly consumed with Simon, he might have taken more than just a quick notice of him, but he had no room for anyone else in that moment. He approached with a smile, then pointed to himself, and held up one finger.

  The guy didn’t try to talk—so he’d either been informed of their Deaf guest, or he recognized him for his work. By the look in his eyes, Rocco assumed the latter. He tried not to smirk a little as the guy led him to a table near the front of the buffet, and when Rocco sat down, he realized the guy was waiting for his attention.

  ‘Coffee, tea, juice,’ his hands signed—not quite right, but enough. He pointed to the beverage station at the end of the table.

  Rocco smiled and signed his thanks, and he watched the host walk away with a bit of a sway to his hips. He appreciated the view, and the attempt to communicate. He hadn’t expected to feel any sort of warm welcome at all in this little town—but how quickly all of these people were changing his mind. Odd how total strangers were willing to adapt so readily in spaces his hearing friends and family never did.

  Setting his phone down, he moved to the coffee carafe first and filled a cup, gulping down the hot, bitter liquid before topping off and taking it back to his table. There were a few people milling around the trays of food, and Rocco seized a plate, moving first for the fruit, then the one holding bacon and sausage. He only took a few—without a gym in sight, he still had to be careful, but he didn’t hold back with the eggs as he piled them into a small mountain.

  He moved around toward the little container of salsa, and as he reached for the ladle, his elbow bumped into his neighbor. Eyes wide, he turned to offer some apology, but it died in the air between them as he stared at a man he didn’t know—but he knew.

  It was the eyes, mostly. The same color, and the same sort of soul-deep anguish of a lonely childhood that Simon shared. The man had a sharper face, skin a little bit lighter, and without the specks across his nose and cheeks. His hair had the same tight curl, but it was darker and longer, pulled into a bun at the back of his head.

  More than just knowing this was Simon’s b
rother by the look of him, it was the recognition in his eyes when he stared at Rocco.

  “Levi?” He wasn’t even sure he had the name right with the movement of his lips and tongue, but the man’s eyes widened, and a wash of color crept over the tips of his ears.

  Levi dipped his head, his lips twitching like he wanted to speak, but he wasn’t sure. Rocco regretted leaving his hearing aids in the room and his phone on the table, but he still planned on trying to make something of an introduction.

  “I’m Rocco, nice to meet you.”

  Levi took his hand, balancing his plate on the other, then looked over his shoulder at a man who had slid up behind him. He looked startlingly like the guy who had checked him in, apart from his shaved head—so clearly he was one of the owners. He was wearing a curious scowl, and he put a possessive hand on Levi’s shoulder as he gave Rocco a look up and down.

  Rocco watched as Levi’s lips moved in explanation, watched as the man’s scowl melted into something like amusement. His eyes lifted to Rocco’s, and he extended his hand. His lips curved, and though Rocco had never been great at lipreading, he was pretty sure this was James.

  “Nice to meet you,” Rocco said. He pointed to his table and shrugged. “I’m there.”

  Levi’s smile went from friendly to a little bit nervous, but Rocco took it with a grain of salt. The invitation was out there, and they could take it or leave it. Moving his chair back, Rocco set his plate down, then reached for his coffee and took several swallows now that it had cooled to a reasonable temperature. He jolted a little when the chair opposite him was filled, Levi looking a shade nervous, but James joined him a few moments later with a pad of paper and a pen.

  Rocco took it and saw scrawled across the top in messy script, ‘I’m James Motel. My brothers and I own this place. This is Levi Kadish. Neither of us really sign, sorry.’

  Rocco waved them off. “It’s fine. I don’t read lips well, thanks for the paper.” He studied them to see if they were put off by his speech, but Levi only looked relieved, and James was scribbling again.

  ‘My brother checked you in last night. I hope you’re enjoying your stay.’

  Rocco glanced down, then he thought of his baker. And then he smiled. “It’s been nice. I had dinner with Simon last night.”

  He didn’t miss the way Levi choked on his drink so hard, his face went bright red. James said something, rubbing his back, but Levi pushed him away with firm hand and sharp tongue, then grabbed the pen from him.

  ‘You know my brother?’

  Rocco frowned, and instead of speaking Simon’s business to the whole restaurant, he took the pen for himself. ‘We’re friends. He never mentioned me?’

  He saw the way Levi dragged his lips between his teeth, the way he looked nervous. Levi had known that Simon was a fan, but apparently Simon had kept their friendship to himself. It stirred something in him—warm and kind of wonderful. Proof in the softest, best way that Simon had meant what he said. He hadn’t gone parading around sharing who Rocco was, hadn’t spread his personal business, not even to his brother.

  It was a wonder, and he wanted to go find Simon right then and kiss him…and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe, and kiss him until he came. He fought back a shiver before looking down at Levi’s neater script. ‘He doesn’t tell me a lot. It’s nice of you to come visit.’

  There was something in Levi’s face now—maybe hurt, or confusion. Rocco hadn’t meant to cause trouble. He appreciated that Simon had kept it to himself, but it was possible that was a symptom of a bigger problem between the brothers. He couldn’t understand it, of course. He came from a family who over-shared to the point of rage.

  “We haven’t known each other long. I…had some personal problems and he was kind. I didn’t expect a friendship, but he offered me one. I like him.”

  Levi’s face softened again, and there was the spark of something more. Pride, maybe? Rocco wished he knew these people a little better. Levi took a breath, then nodded and wrote a bit longer. ‘Simon’s a good guy. That doesn’t surprise me. Anyway, I hope you don’t think I’m rude but I was getting breakfast to go. James is helping me with my food truck today, but if you come by the farmer’s market tonight, stop by and I’ll give you some pastries to try.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Rocco offered, fingers tipping from his chin.

  Levi knew sign enough to respond with, ‘You’re welcome,’ before he gathered his plate and left, James following close at his heels.

  Maybe he really had fucked something up, but he liked Simon too much to care. There was a long day ahead of him before he could see Simon again, but knowing it could be measured in hours made all the difference in the world.

  Chapter Seven

  Rocco was nervous. It was a new experience for him—or at least, it had been a damn long while since anyone had given him sweaty palms and butterflies in his stomach. But Simon did. He’d texted him a couple of times that day, had even gotten a selfie of him with flour dusting his cheeks and a golden glow of afternoon sunlight creating a halo around his short curls.

  Rocco wanted to kiss him again. He wanted to press Simon against the wall and feel the way he groaned, the way his breath made his entire body heave, the way he seized and trembled with an untouched orgasm. Rocco didn’t entirely know what it meant that Simon was so worked up over a single kiss. Even his biggest fans had more restraint than that—and Rocco didn’t think it was obsession.

  It felt like something bigger.

  He distracted himself by passing his dog off to the kid from the host stand for the day, then perusing the town. Nearly everything was accessible on foot, and he found a little blacksmith shop that was closed for the afternoon, but had some of the stuff on display in the front window. It wasn’t lacking in kitchy little tourist shops either, but a lot of the places looked homegrown, like they’d been around since the start of Cherry Creek.

  Even the old building with faded stucco and cracked roof tiles that bore a sign for the Cherry Creek newspaper seemed to fit. Behind the foggy glass he saw the hustle and bustle of people, and he wondered what it would be like to call a town like this home.

  He didn’t think there was much Deaf community to speak of—but in all honesty, he hadn’t really integrated much back in Malibu either, after getting into film. He wondered if he could find some sort of peace in this little valley surrounded by the Rockies. He didn’t want to hope, but he couldn’t help it.

  He was careful to avoid the bakery’s storefront, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist going in, but knowing Simon was close was a comfort to him. And he enjoyed that people didn’t just stare. The staff at the little diner on the corner didn’t bat an eye when he used his notepad to order food, and later in the afternoon, the barista working the coffee counter in the little bookshop knew enough for thank you and you’re welcome.

  He got back to the Lodge and found the first brother he’d met working the desk again. He looked a bit out of his element, but he smiled up at Rocco and looked like he meant it. Rocco wasn’t a stranger to dealing with hearing people who had no background in sign, but he was starting to feel a little tired.

  He waved at the guy, then tapped out on his phone and handed it off. ‘What’s your name?’

  The guy grimaced in apology. ‘C H A R L I E.’

  Rocco spelled it back, then made a C which was easiest. ‘Where’s a good place to take someone on a date?’ he typed on his phone.

  Charlie’s mouth formed a very faint smirk, and he grabbed some of the hotel stationary to write out his reply. ‘Is it Simon?’

  ‘Your brother has a big mouth.’

  He liked how Charlie laughed with his entire body, his eyes crinkling—showing both age and youth all wrapped up into one man who looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. ‘Yes, he does. James like to start drama. But he’s also dating Simon’s brother. Anyway there’s a couple of decent restaurants that aren’t too far from here. Kind of our version of five-star dining. One o
f them is co-owned by this guy, Tristian, who has a YouTube channel.’

  Rocco wasn’t a fan of any medium with shit captions, and YouTube was too hit or miss. But Charlie looked proud of his celebrity local, so Rocco grinned and signed, ‘Great, thanks,’ mouthing along.

  Charlie offered, ‘You’re welcome,’ that looked like he’d been trying to brush up, and Rocco didn’t hate it.

  Maybe by the time he was done, some of the town would be proficient. Hell, it was more than most of the people he’d been working with for over a decade had done. The thought was a bitter pill, and he walked off with a wave before his thoughts could turn dark. He had a date to go on, and a farmer’s market to peruse, and an adorable man to seduce.

  * * *

  It felt like Cherry Creek got darker faster than most of the places around the state, but Rocco had a feeling it was the way the mountains loomed around them from all sides. He didn’t mind it, it had a sort of romantic feel to it when he pulled his car into the little parking lot in front of the bakery. The neon open sign was off, but he saw the door was cracked open, and he swiped sweaty palms as he reached for the handle and stepped in.

  He never liked being in stores past their closing. His mom used to take him shopping for hours, and when the overhead lights started to dim, his irrational child’s brain convinced him they’d be locked in til morning. He’d cry and scream loud enough to humiliate her, and after the fifth time he’d lost his absolute shit in a Dillard’s, she stopped taking him.

  Even now, even knowing it was Simon’s place and being locked in a kitchen with him wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world—he felt that small rush of fear at the dark shadows and unlit, empty pastry windows.

  The kitchen door swung open after a minute, and Simon popped his head out, grinning widely against the backlight of where he was baking. ‘Lock the door?’