by Sue Brown
Bennett gasped again. “Do it.”
Cris had the presence of mind to lock the studio door, just in case one of the artists arrived. Then he kissed Bennett hard again, as his hands went to the waistband of Bennett’s jeans and he slowly undid the buttons. It was starting to be a habit here. Then he blinked. Bennett wasn’t wearing any briefs. Cris’s mouth went dry.
“You went commando?”
Color spread along Bennett’s cheeks. “I thought… I hoped this would happen at some point. I just thought I’d make things easier.”
“Baby, I am not complaining.” Cris wrapped his hands around Bennett’s hard shaft and smeared his thumb over the tip.
“Baby?” Bennett didn’t look impressed, although his hips didn’t seem to care what name he was called as they thrust forward and pushed his cock through Cris’s hand.
“Sorry, it just slipped out,” Cris apologized.
“I can think of a way you can make it up to me,” Bennett gasped, “starting with you on your knees in front of me and your mouth wrapped around my dick.”
Cris tightened his grip around Bennett. “Is this what you want?”
“Uh-huh.” Bennett placed his hands on Cris’s shoulders and pushed down insistently.
Cris snickered, but he obediently sank to his knees without letting go of Bennett’s cock. He looked up and gloried in Bennett’s darkly desperate, needy expression. The tile floor was hard on his knees, but he pushed that aside and licked the tip of Bennett’s cock, determined to draw as many moans as he could out of him.
HALF AN hour later, he’d sucked Bennett until his knees gave way, and Bennett returned the favor, only with a much quicker result. Cris had been on a knife-edge to climax from the second Bennett’s hot spurts reached his mouth. They cuddled on the floor with Bennett’s head on Cris’s shoulder as they recovered their breath. When Bennett raised his head, he noticed the laid-out photos, and Cris led Bennett over to inspect them.
Bennett sat down cross-legged and gave a rueful laugh as he tapped one of the photos. “I can’t believe you’re painting this building.”
“Is it one of yours?”
“This is the project that’s causing me problems. See this bald spot? This is because of this building.”
Cris looked where Bennett pointed, but all he could see were neat brown waves. “You hide it well.”
“I’ll be lucky if I have any hair left by the time this building is complete.”
“What went wrong?”
“The project manager badly miscalculated on materials, and the budget has tripled.”
Cris winced. “I bet your dad’s not happy.”
“He’s livid. He fired the project manager yesterday, and he was threatening to fire me until I pointed out I’d had nothing to do with the site. I’ve been focused elsewhere. In fact this is one of Tata’s pet projects, and he took his eye off the ball. That’s why he’s making such a fuss.”
Biting his lip, Cris held back the anger he felt at Petrovski picking on Bennett. He was Bennett’s father, and it was family as well as business. “He’s feeling guilty?”
“Yeah. And he should be.” Bennett didn’t hold back. “The profit margin is small enough as it is on this project. It’s also thanks to my father doing this for a golfing buddy.”
Cris wondered if it was about time Bennett’s father took a step back from the business or maybe retired. Again, that wasn’t something he could discuss. If he were Bennett’s boyfriend, that would be a different matter.
Bennett gave a long sigh and rubbed his temples. “I think he wants to retire, but he doesn’t think we’re ready to take over the company—we being me or Mikey. And he really wants a Petrovski at the helm of the company.”
“What do you want?” Cris asked cautiously.
Bennett picked up one of the photos, the one with the morning sunrise. “I wouldn’t have taken my eye off the ball, and Mikey has a better grasp of materials than most of the managers working for us.”
“He does?” Cris couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.
“I’ve never met anyone better. He wants to be a carpenter because he loves working with his hands, but in his head,” Bennett tapped his temple, “he can design anything. He understands materials in a way I never will. I can design a building, but he’s the one who’ll take my designs and tell me what to build it from.”
Cris shook his head. “Why aren’t you doing that?”
“Because that’s not Tata’s vision for us. We’re his sons, and we’re here to run the company.”
“And marry good women and produce little Petrovskis to take over.”
“That too,” Bennett agreed. His eyes were ranging over the photos, so he didn’t see Cris’s angry expression. “These are good photos. Tata would love to see these. He’d also like to know how you got such good access to the site. So would I.”
Cris smirked at him. “An artist has to keep his secrets.” At Bennett’s derisive hum, he said, “It’s nothing illegal. I don’t go onto the site, but I do spend a lot of time by the gates. Look at the angle.”
Bennett studied the photos carefully. “These are taken by the gates. But these?” He tapped a section over to the left. There was a note of suspicion in his tone.
“I know the janitors to a lot of buildings. I spend a lot of time on rooftops.”
“You’d make a good spy.”
“With this hair?” Cris pointed at his orange locks. “You’d see me coming a mile away.”
“I prefer seeing you coming up close and personal,” Bennett murmured, “but I get your point.”
Cris warmed at Bennett’s words, but he laughed it off. “I’m not that subtle. Once I decide on a building, if I need better access, I’ll talk to the construction company. I’ve got photos of my paintings for them to see, and a lot of the workmen know me now. They vouch for me.” He laughed at Bennett’s surprised expression.
“Why do I not know about you?”
Cris shrugged. “I don’t know. What do you think? This is the building where I wanted to paint you, but if you’d prefer one you’ve been involved with….”
It would be hard to redo his plans, but he could find another subject for the building.
“How hard would it be for you to start again?” Bennett asked, more perceptive than Cris had given him credit for.
“I’m in the early stages. Do you have another location in mind?”
Bennett nodded. “I do. Do you have a hard hat and boots?” At Cris’s nod, he smiled. “How about I show you?”
Chapter 11
CRIS GOT out of Bennett’s Toyota, shoved his hands in his pockets, and stared long and hard at the row of partly constructed one-story houses. One of them was almost finished compared to the others.
They weren’t what he expected. They’d driven away from the office buildings and into a residential area. The surrounding houses were neat, but they’d seen better days. This wasn’t a high-class Petrovski development, and yet there was the Petrovski name on the sign.
Bennett moved, and Cris turned to look at him.
“I don’t understand,” he said.
“I know this isn’t as dramatic as an office building, but you want to paint me, and this….” Bennett waved an arm around. “This is me. Or at least as me as it’s going to get for a while.”
“You built this place?” Cris asked.
“This is my project, not a Petrovski development, despite the name.”
“You’re building a house for yourself?”
Bennett’s expression was a mixture of pride and self-consciousness. “These aren’t for me. I’m involved with a project for veterans. My company is building the houses at reduced cost for a veterans’ group. They’ve got a joint project with a city-sponsored urban renewal program. I wasn’t joking when I said Mikey can work out the cost of materials down to an inch. Mikey and I sat and planned out five houses, with potential for further development if this works. The charity has big plans. This is only
the first step.”
Cris stared at him, at the houses, and at him again. “You designed these?”
“Yes.”
“You’re incredible, Bennett Petrovski. Do you know that?”
“It’s no big deal,” Bennett said, although his expression said the exact opposite. “It was Mama who suggested it. They needed help and approached one of her boards. I was looking for something to do, and Mikey was on board as soon as he heard. He’s also going to fit out the kitchens when the houses are built. I’m a qualified electrician too. Tata made a fuss because it takes us away from the family business, until Mama asked him to front a fundraiser to build the houses. She can twist him around her little finger.”
“I’d like to look inside,” Cris said.
“Sure. You’ll need the hat.”
Cris grabbed his hard hat—he’d learned very quickly he wasn’t going anywhere near a site unless he wore a hat, boots, and hi-vis jacket. He also picked up his camera. He couldn’t promise Bennett he would use these houses. They didn’t really fit into his theme, but he would take the camera in case inspiration struck him.
“This way,” Bennett said. He unlocked the gates and led Cris across the site to the house that was most complete. “Careful where you walk.”
Cris followed him into the house and looked around. The house was small inside with a living room at the front, dining room and kitchen side-by-side toward the rear, three bedrooms and a bath upstairs. And in the basement, a front room, a back room and a kitchen. So far the house walls had been framed out, floors were down, and the kitchen was partly constructed. Bennett smiled at him, pride beaming from him, and it was like someone had switched on a light.
“I looked at refurbishing old homes. It would have been cheaper. But someone donated the property, and with the city program, it made sense to build new homes.”
“It’s gonna be great,” Cris said, and he meant it. The houses were being built for people who needed them. It wasn’t just another prestige office project.
“Gideon put a lot of money into this project too,” Bennett said. “He was one of the first people I approached. Thanks to him a lot of other business people put their hands in their pockets.”
Cris wasn’t surprised. He’d learned that Gideon was the head of a large holdings company in New York. Gideon didn’t make a big thing about it, and Dan seemed to largely ignore the fact Gideon was wealthy.
Bennett pulled out a roll of paper and spread it over the kitchen countertop. He noticed Cris’s look. “I like working on paper first. Like you with your paintings.”
Cris nodded. Although he documented everything on his laptop, all his plans started out in his sketchbook, which was currently in his pocket.
“We wanted the houses to look like the others on the street.”
Bennett talked through the plans as they walked through the house, and Cris took out his camera and snapped photos here and there. Nothing struck him, but sometimes inspiration took a while. Then they looked around the rest of the site, but the other houses were barely more than the outer shell. Bennett’s chatter faded as they reached the last house.
“This isn’t doing it for you, is it?” he said.
Cris smiled at him apologetically. “Not so far, but it’s not a quick process. Sometimes it takes weeks before I have an idea in mind.”
“You can stick with your original plan if you want.”
“I’d like to come back at different times of the day. A lot of my paintings are set at sunrise.” Cris shrugged. “I was always up when the sun rose.”
Bennett nodded. “I’ll drive you back out here one morning.” He moved, and just then the sun shone through the unglazed holes in the house where the windows should be.
There was an aha in Cris’s mind. “Stay exactly where you are,” he ordered.
Bennett was startled, but he stayed still while Cris shot off a score of photos. They were quick—nothing more than a place marker—but he wanted to capture the light on Bennett’s face. It was always about the way light framed the men in his paintings. It made them vibrant and larger than life. Then he quickly sketched Bennett while he waited patiently.
Finally Cris looked up and grinned at Bennett. “All done. You can move now.”
“’Bout time,” Bennett grumbled, but his smile gave him away. He rolled his shoulders. “Are you ready to go home?” At Cris’s nod, he asked, “Do you want something to eat?”
“Yeah, if it involves steak.” Cris had promised himself a steak dinner to cope with the week ahead.
“We’ll go back to my place. I’ve got steak and all the fixin’s in the fridge.”
Cris raised an eyebrow. “Enough for two?”
“I was gonna invite you to dinner to make up for the last time you were there and we were cock-blocked by my brother.”
“Where is he today?” Cris wasn’t in the mood to have a repeat performance of that or the previous night.
“He’s at Julianne’s.”
Cris grunted and Bennett looked over. “Just leave it.”
It was more of a plea than an order, and Cris gave a curt nod. He didn’t want to spoil the mood. They’d had a good day together.
“Have you got beer?”
Bennett furrowed his brow. “Uh, no. I think Mikey had the last bottle.”
“Let’s swing by Cowboys and Angels. I need to confirm what time Dan wants me to start. He told me one time, Ariel another.”
“Done.”
Cris waited for Bennett to lock up the site and then slid into the car beside him. “Thanks for taking me here.”
Bennett turned to look at him. “I’ve never done that before.”
“I’m honored.”
Bennett patted Cris’s thigh. “You’re welcome.”
AT COWBOYS and Angels, Bennett took care of the beer while Cris looked at the staff roster. He was penciled in at the end. Cris took a photo of his shifts and went in search of Bennett, who was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Bennett?” he asked Dan.
“Your boyfriend’s talking to Gideon,” Dan informed him.
They still hadn’t officially had the “we are boyfriends” talk since the night he was fired, but after the last few days, Cris decided it didn’t need to be discussed. Bennett was his boyfriend even if it did make his heart leap every time it was mentioned.
“Lionman.” Gideon’s boom echoed across the bar.
Cris restrained an eye roll, caught Dan’s smirk, and turned to see Gideon and Bennett walking toward him. “Gideon.”
Gideon’s smirk was even larger. The bastard knew how much it wound him up. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of being Lionman, but Cris liked to separate his personal and professional lives. He also knew it would be fatal to say anything out loud. He’d never hear the end of it.
Bennett reached him first, and his smile soothed Cris’s ruffled feathers. “Sorry I disappeared. Gideon wanted an update on the housing project.”
“It’s about time I came out to have a look,” Gideon said.
“You’d be welcome any time,” Bennett said.
Cris nodded. “You’re doing a good thing.”
To his surprise, Gideon looked… Cris tried to recognize his expression… embarrassed.
“It was Dan’s suggestion. We have veterans as customers, and Dan tries to keep an eye on them. We’ve lost a few from PTSD over the years.” Silence fell between them for a moment, until Gideon sighed and said, “When Dan heard about Bennett’s project, he thought it was a way to do something practical.”
“Without you we’d never have funded the project,” Bennett said. “You convinced my father it was a good public relations exercise.”
Gideon beamed at him. “Business strategy is something I’m good at. So is Dan, by the way, although he needs more practice.” He smiled tenderly at Dan, who was out of earshot at the other end of the bar. Dan looked up, and his smile back at Gideon was so intimate Cris would have been embarrassed to witness it if he hadn’t
seen that exchange all the damn time.
“Did you get the beer?” Cris asked Bennett.
“Not yet.”
“What do you want?” Gideon asked.
Ten minutes later they were en route to Bennett’s apartment and, hopefully, steak and baked potatoes. Cris’s mouth watered at the thought.
“What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?” Bennett asked.
“Not ’til five. I’m gonna do my laundry and stuff before I go in.”
“Would you like to stay the night? I’ve got an early start, but I could drop you home before I drive to the site.”
Surprised at the offer, Cris looked over at Bennett, whose attention was fixed on a Lexus reversing onto the street. “I’d like that. Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” Bennett’s voice was husky. “I’m sure.”
He didn’t glance over, but Cris could sense his smile, and Cris smiled too.
THE LAST time Cris had been at Bennett’s apartment, he’d been distracted and looking around hadn’t been at the front of his agenda. Now he looked around curiously. It was a large, spacious apartment, probably four times the size of Cris’s. It suited Bennett and was decorated in browns and creams—neutral tones, but comfortable—and a polished wooden floor. Cris eyed the large overstuffed leather sofas with envy. He’d kill for just one of them, although each sofa was almost larger than his apartment. One wall was stacked to the ceiling with shelves filled with vinyl. If they ever lived together, they’d be classified as hoarders.
“Nice place,” Cris said.
Bennett looked around as though he were seeing it for the first time. “I like it. I’ve lived here since I left college. It was my grandma’s place, and I spent a lot of time here as a kid. When she died, she left it to me in her will.”
“You own the place?”
Bennett flushed. “The Petrovski company owns the building.”
Cris nearly whistled out loud. His parents were comfortably off, but this was a different league. Besides, any help from Cris’s parents stopped abruptly when he refused to become an engineer.