by Max Hudson
Nothing happened. The panic Jake was expecting…absent. As were the anger and guilt. He blinked, choking himself to make sure he was awake. Never had anyone come as close to the pain he carried around as Dave just had without Jake exploding. Now, though the question still ripped open his wounds, he didn’t feel like falling to his knees in anguish. He didn’t want to rip Dave’s head off and hand it to him. He didn’t snarl and snap like a rabid dog. He considered Dave’s eyes and there was only friendly interest. He inhaled deeply, to steady himself, and slow his suddenly racing heart.
“I love this.” Simple words, but they soothed the raw wounds inside him. He let himself recognize a new truth as he smiled at Dave. It was okay to love something other than soldiering. In fact, it was great. He was not a freak, he could be a badass artist as much as he had been a badass soldier.
“It’s easy to tell.” Dave’s words brought Jake’s focus back to the conversation.
“Yeah? How can you tell?”
He needed to keep Dave talking, long enough to gather his fraying control back around him.
“It’s in the way you look when you talk about your work. There’s just something in the lines, in the portraits, in the stories your photos and drawings tell. You’re in them. I can see you.”
Jake couldn’t talk anymore about his business, about his love of art. It was suddenly too personal, in the same way that wanting to touch Dave’s face, or smooth his thumb over Dave’s lips, or drag Dave’s body up against his own was personal. Dave deserved more than the spiking lust that was making Jake hear what he was saying as though they were underwater, and he was drowning in his desires. He needed to end this meeting before he did something incredibly stupid like kiss Dave. Because even if it began as a gesture of gratitude for helping him realize something important about himself, it wouldn’t end that way. And he couldn’t afford to lose a client.
“Thanks, man.”
The words came out choked and dry, and he stood quickly, loading up the tray with the things from lunch and walking out to the kitchen. Dave followed, standing by the door and watching as Jake loaded the dishwasher.
“So, when would you like the other sketches?”
He turned back to his guest, leaning against the kitchen sink and crossing his arms over his chest. The move hid his trembling hands from sight.
“I’ll be away next week, until Friday. So, Saturday?”
“Sounds good.”
“My place then, since you did the honors this time.”
“We don’t have to…”
“It’s not a problem. I’m no cook like you, but I can order Thai or Italian. Or anything you like, really.”
What I’d like is to crash into you, taste you, feel you everywhere.
“Okay. Anything you order will be fine.” Could he sound any more like a dying man on his last breath?
“Okay, then it’s a date.”
Immediately, the air between them changed, became supercharged with testosterone. Jake saw the flare of some awareness light up Dave’s eyes, and he felt the heat warm his own cheeks. The trembling returned to his still-hidden hands, and his mouth watered for a taste. Just one, a sample of the sweetness he was sure those dimple-sided lips held.
Dave broke the spell by turning, saying over his shoulder, “I’d better get going. Thanks for having me over. I’m sure we’ll be good together.”
He stopped and turned again to clarify his meaning. Jake wanted nothing more than to feel the heat infusing Dave’s cheeks beneath his lips, to test them with his tongue.
“I mean I’m sure we’ll work well together. We’ll make a good team.”
Jake didn’t disagree with either sentiment. He managed a smile that he hoped was not predatory and followed Dave to the front door. He reached for it as Dave did, and their hands met just above the curved handle. Dave hissed and looked longingly into Jake’s eyes. Neither man said anything. There was no need. Their eyes said they wanted much more than the brisk handshake they finally shared.
“Have a safe trip.” Jake raised a hand in farewell and watched Dave drive away.
Chapter Four
If traffic moved any more slowly, they’d be at a standstill. Dave tried not to curse as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. A last-minute meeting had changed his flight plans, and he had only hours now before he would meet Jake Pratt again. He’d been gone six days…six long, excruciating days, when the only time he managed not to pop a boner was when he was elbow-deep in plotting and planning for the screenplay of one of his earliest novels. Thankfully, those sessions had been long and brutal, and by the time he had gotten back to his hotel, he’d been wiped out. But once he woke up from crashing into the bed, nothing could keep his thoughts away from Jake.
And nothing had stopped the erections he sported until he was forced to rub one off to relieve himself or risk spending a sleepless night hard as stone. He reached down now to his stiff cock, feeling it twitch beneath his palm. How the hell was he going to manage to talk to Jake or even be in the same room with him if he couldn’t control his body’s reaction to the mere thought of him? After the third night of Jake-induced orgasms, Dave had stopped denying his interest in him. It seemed pointless, but he was damned if he knew what to do about it. When he had called Jake to give him his address, the sound of his voice had Dave palming his cock to try and control the ache that grew as they spoke.
He didn’t know what Jake’s thoughts were on the subject of man-on-man love, and he wasn’t going to be the one to raise the question. He wasn’t sure himself how he felt about it. Just because he couldn’t stop himself from stiffening up every time he had five minutes alone didn’t mean he was comfortable with the idea of wanting a man. But he wasn’t uncomfortable, either, which didn’t help. And it wasn’t love…they barely knew each other. It was just lust. But he was an adult; he could handle lust.
The afternoon sun pelted him through the open window. Exhaust fumes mingled with the sharp scent of tar, and heat shimmered on the hoods of the cars crawling along the road. When were they ever not repaving this highway? Dave trailed the car ahead, his foot hovering over the brake pedal. Sighing, he used the Bluetooth setting to call Jake. He would need a bit more time to…
“Jake Pratt.”
“Jake, Dave Moussa. I just got back this morning, and I’m stuck in traffic on the highway.”
“We can reschedule.”
Fuck, no. Even as he clenched his jaw in frustration with himself, Dave admitted that he wanted to see Jake again. He needed to see him. “No, it’s fine, I just need an extra couple of hours.”
“So, seven then, instead of five?”
“Sounds good.”
“See you then. Welcome home.”
The rest of the ride was torture, pure and simple. His hard-on had become a steel pole in his slacks by the time Jake hung up. Something about the man’s voice made him want to do nasty things he had only ever thought to do with women before this. The images poured through his mind as he dragged his hand away from his aching length and searched for something to listen to that would help take his mind off his lust. Relieved that their conversation had been brief and clipped, he wound up the windows and switched on the AC. Maybe if he set it on maximum cold, it’d help his body cool down.
He sighed as he dropped his keys on the table in the front hallway of his apartment an hour and a half later. Kicking off his shoes, he walked into the kitchen to retrieve the take-out menus he had in the drawer next to the stove. He felt like Italian, and Jake was a big guy. What could he order that would fill him up? He searched the menu, and once he was satisfied with the choices, he called and placed his order. Forty-five minutes would give him just enough time to tidy up a bit, including taking out the trash he had left where he had forgotten it before he took off a week earlier.
When the food arrived, he stowed the salad in the fridge, and put the hot food into the glass containers he used for reheating. Then he discarded the plastic bags and the boxes and too
k all the trash out. He picked up the shoes he had kicked off and took them and his suitcase into his bedroom. He’d do a load of laundry when Jake left. A moment of panic stalled him in the doorway of his bedroom. What was he doing, inviting a man he was insanely attracted to into his private space for dinner? He hadn’t had anyone over in years, aside from his family, preferring to meet his friends and business associates in public places.
He looked around him. The apartment was not luxurious, though he could well afford one now, but it was comfortable, spacious, and tidy for a bachelor. Anxiety knotted his stomach. The furnishings were not designer brands, but the space felt like home. Would Jake like it? Next to his wide-open farmhouse, Dave’s apartment was almost small and crowded. He shook his head. Why should he care what Jake thought of his place? It was his, free and clear, and he liked it just the way it was.
Taking a last look around, he shrugged and went to shower. Jake would be there in a couple of hours, and he needed to be ready. Resisting the urge to linger under the heated spray, he washed himself quickly and went to see what to wear. This wasn’t a date, no matter what his stupid mouth had said a week earlier. It was another business meeting between him and his cover artist. Nothing more, nothing less. He would dress casually, but no jeans or t-shirts, and no slippers. He pulled a pair of black slacks from the hanger and slid them over his boxer briefs and then hemmed and hawed about a shirt to finish the ensemble.
Jeez, Dave, stop with the prima donna primping, for chrissakes! Get a fucking grip! He pulled a blue shirt off the rack and slid it on, leaving the top two buttons undone. Sliding his bare feet into comfortable black loafers, he went back into the kitchen to put the containers into the oven. He preferred to reheat take-out food slowly, and by the time Jake arrived, everything would be nice and hot.
Remembering how Jake had welcomed them with a table set for dinner, he hurriedly made a place setting for two at the dining table he never used except when his family visited. Though he only had beer in his fridge, he figured he’d offer the option of glasses, in case Jake didn’t feel like drinking from the bottle. He had nothing to dress the table with except two tall candlesticks that his mother had given him for Christmas two years ago. He hunted around for candles but could fine none. They looked good there, even if they were empty, so he left them.
The food should be hot enough by now. He glanced at the clock as he switched off the oven, and was just getting ready to remove them to the table when his doorbell rang. He stopped breathing for a long moment, and swallowed the lump of pure panic rising in his throat. This is just a business meeting. Jake is a business associate. Everything will go smoothly. He jerked when the bell jangled again. Fuck, he had to get a grip before he opened the door. He moved quickly to answer it, sliding a hand over his face and plastering on a tight smile before opening it.
“Hi. Sorry for the delay. I was just in the kitchen.”
Dave stepped away from the door and gestured for Jake to enter. He sniffed the air as Jake walked by him, and his cock jerked in his slacks at the scent. His favorite cologne smelled even better on Jake. Damn, they smelled the same! It doesn’t mean anything. He shut the door on that note and went ahead of Jake, who was waiting for him to lead the way.
“This way.” He walked into the living room. “You can set your portfolio down and come through for dinner. It’s just ready now.”
“I brought this for you.” Jake handed him the bottle of wine he held, and Dave took it with a smile. It was cold, which meant he had bought it on his way. The thoughtful act pleased Dave.
“Great.” He didn’t have wine glasses, but he was glad he had set what he had on the table. He reminded himself impatiently that he didn’t need to impress Jake. Jake needed to impress him.
“Can I help?” Jake asked as Dave pulled the food from the oven.
“Sure. Salad’s in the fridge, and beers. Thanks.”
Once they sat down, Dave relaxed a little. His hands shook as he opened the wine, but he managed to steady them to pour.
“You must have the sight or something,” he commented. “Red wine is perfect for what we’ll be having. Please, help yourself.”
“Spaghetti and meatballs? One of my favorite things to eat.”
Jake hummed in pleasure as he took his first mouthful, and Dave’s skin heated. He dropped his eyes from Jake’s face as he sank his fork into his own food, twirling the spaghetti around and around the fork.
“Wow! This is pretty good, for take-out.”
“These guys have been in business for over a hundred years, and they use the recipes from the old country.”
Talk about food was better than awkward or lust-filled silence. Dave gratefully followed Jake’s lead. “You’re a foodie, aren’t you?”
Jake’s chuckle scattered goosebumps over his flesh. “I suppose you could call me that. Growing up in a chef’s house meant we got to try a lot of new dishes.”
They ate mostly in silence after that, finishing the bottle of wine between them. Jake helped with the dishes, and then they went to look over the sketches that he had brought with him. Dave sat across from him as Jake spread out the sketches on the glass coffee table for him to view.
“These are the best of the ones I did. I went with your idea on emphasizing shadows, as you’ll see. I’m curious to know which one you’ll like best from this bunch.”
Dave studied each sketch, marveling at the detail and trying not to be bowled over by the fact that Jake had taken his suggestion for one sketch and parlayed it into all the sketches. And he could see how the addition of shadows in the places they were in added a whole level of dimension to the sketch.
“I can see how it would look without the shadows,” he commented, pointing at the one he liked best. “I can even see how it might look if you changed the depth of the shadows, or put them somewhere else.”
He looked up to find Jake’s eyes on him, a curious intensity in his gaze. He blinked to refocus his attention on the sketch, dropping his eyes before Jake saw the hunger he was struggling to keep at bay.
“Did you do more than one sketch of each of these?”
“Yes. And I played with the shadows like you said.” Jake came to sit next to him, causing Dave to shudder as he looked up. Is this the one you like best?” He reached across to pick up the one Dave had indicated.
“Yeah.” Dave was breathless from the combined scent of just Jake and the cologne he wore, and struggled to keep his body from hardening. Taking a deep breath, he asked, “So, which do you think works best for the cover?”
The temptation that sat next to him had him wishing he could move away without it being obvious that he was running scared. And at the same time, he wished he could reach over and pull Jake in to trace the scar on his face, or for a taste of his lips. He clenched his jaws, willing himself to concentrate on what Jake was saying in answer to his question, battling his desire, shivering as though he had the ague. Apparently, he hadn’t done too good a job of disguising his distraction. “Are you okay?”
Fuck! Jake wasn’t supposed to notice anything wrong. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You’re shivering. Are you sure you’re okay?”
No, I’m not okay. I’m fucked is what I am. “Yeah. Maybe I picked up a bug while I was away. I’ll swallow some vitamin C tablets.”
He stood up abruptly, stumbling over his feet in his haste to escape, and almost fell on the table. Jake’s strong arms grabbed him and steadied him. When the hell had Jake stood up? Dave wanted to relax against his chest, and let those brawny arms envelop him, but he couldn’t risk messing up the budding professional relationship between himself and the man he was panting after.
“I’m fine, thanks,” he growled.
He pushed away from Jake and walked off, fisting his hands at his sides until he was in the kitchen again. He filled a glass with water and drank thirstily, and then pulled two beers from the fridge. They weren’t quite done yet, and he needed something more than tap water to help him th
rough the next few minutes. Taking deep calming breaths, he strode back into the living room and held out a beer to the man who was now standing by the window looking out.
“Thought you might like one more before you hit the road.” Way to shove him out the door, Dave. Now he’ll think you’re an asshole.
“Thanks.” Jake took the beer, never taking his eyes off Dave, and that was exhilarating and scary at the same time. “So, what happens now?”
Dave took a long swig of beer before answering. Dutch courage and all. “We send the ones we like to the art department. They try them on the covers with different fonts to see which goes best with what. I have another look, choose the one I prefer, suggest anything else I might like to change. Once it’s approved, you get paid. I don’t know what arrangements they’ve made with you regarding payment. That’s not up to me.”
Jake nodded. “I read your bio…David Boone. You’ve done some self-publishing. Would you be interested in using any of my work for anything else you publish on your own?”
“Sure thing.” Why wouldn’t he? It would mean staying in touch with the man whom he was afraid he wanted to get to know much better than a professional relationship would allow. Not something he could freely admit to in present, or any, company. He quieted his lust-hazed brain impatiently. “I’ll let you know.”
Jake drained the bottle and walked away to place it on the coffee table. “Well, I guess I’d better head out.”
He began to gather up his sketches, leaving behind the two Dave liked. Dave watched him, his heart racing madly, his breath hitching in his throat. He didn’t want the evening to be over so soon. He wanted more than a couple of hours. They could talk, couldn’t they? About food, about life in the Army, about art…about anything that would make Jake stay a little longer. He hunted around in his suddenly vacant brain for something to say, but he didn’t know what to say to a guy he wanted to spend more time with. And he was so out of practice on the dating scene. He cleared his throat.
“Wait. I like this one as well.” Dave walked over and reached for the only sketch that had a figure in it. “I think this might be a good one, too.” He pulled it from the pile in Jake’s hands. “Thank you for bringing the sketches. They’re great, all of them. I’ll get these to the art editor on Monday.”