by Cameron Dane
“God, Grey.” Sirus couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice. “That must have been so hard. You were just a kid. They were your parents.”
Grey frowned, and went stiff. “I had to do it. They didn’t give me any choice.” Sharp defensiveness rang in his tone. “I was already very linear, even back then. I surmised that if these two people didn’t care enough to pull their heads out of their ‘la-de-da, isn’t the natural way of living beautiful’ asses and give proper care to their two children, then they weren’t really my parents anyway. By the time my grandmother came, assessed the situation, and took us under her care, I didn’t think of that man and woman as Dad and Mom. They didn’t fight for us, at least not more than a token few words with my grandmother. I knew they wouldn’t. They were just people to me by then, and we happened to share some DNA.” His mouth thinned, his lips turning pale. “Kelsie didn’t, though.” Shadows darkened Grey’s hazel eyes to almost pure green. “Christ, she was so mad when my grandmother took us away.”
“She knew you did it?” Unable to help himself, Sirus crawled across the bed and faced Grey, wrapping his arm around the man’s bent legs. “She turned that anger on you?”
Grey nodded, the movement jerky. “I didn’t lie to her about it, but I also didn’t tell her about it beforehand, just in case my grandmother didn’t come. The situation was bad at our house. I needed to get her out of there, but for Kelsie it ended up being a blindside.
She hadn’t disconnected from our parents the way I had, and I underestimated how terrifying leaving would be for her.”
“For you too, I would imagine.”
“No.” Grey shook his head, absolute vehemence in the sharp shake. “The only thing that scared me was every day that went by where Kelsie refused to talk to me. I was so scared I’d made a choice that ended up losing me the only thing I ever wanted to make sure I had: my sister. I never cried when I made that call to my grandmother, and I never shed a tear when I walked away from my parents, but dealing with Kelsie’s anger …
that’s where I was weak. That first night away and every night afterward for two weeks where Kelsie didn’t talk to me, I cried myself to sleep, so terrified I’d done the wrong thing.” Grey turned away, giving Sirus the back of his head and the stark, naked lines of his back. “Goddamn it, though,” a hand went up and swiped at his hidden face, “I knew it was the only thing I could do.”
“Hey, hey.” His heart breaking, Sirus turned Grey back around and forced damp eyes to meet his. “She came around. From what I hear in your voice when you talk about her, I think she’s right up there with John as your best friend. I know she feels the same about you. You both look so different and you present opposing personalities to the world, but deep down I think you’re very similar in who you are at your cores.”
Grey nodded within the tight hold of Sirus’s fingers. “John says the same thing.”
“John’s a really smart man.”
A choppy burst of laughter escaped Grey, and some of the spark of amber light returned to his hazel eyes. “Ergo, you are too, huh?” He peeled Sirus’s hands off his head and pressed a kiss to the palm of each one. “I guess you are, at that.” He looked away and put his focus on the wall, holding it there. “You’re certainly a very talented artist; there’s no doubting that.”
Sirus gritted his teeth against correcting Grey’s comment. This moment wasn’t about him and his hobby.
“You did that piece on the wall.” Grey jerked his head toward the three dimensional mountain scene. “Didn’t you?”
Okay, so he wants to change the subject. All right. I can live with that. He’s given me more than I ever thought he would, and it has clearly taken an emotional toll.
“I did,” Sirus answered, almost reluctantly. “I like to experiment, and that was my second attempt to create a textured piece that had a flat back and could be mounted on a wall, as you can do with a painting. The first attempt was truly awful, but while this one has a ton of mistakes, I ended up liking how the shades of the wood grain seemed to hit in just the right places and give the image lots of depth. If you look at it closely, you can see it’s not good enough to grace anyone else’s walls, but I didn’t want to get rid of it, so I ended up hanging it there. Lots of the stuff that ends up in my house are the first stages of trying something new, with lots of mistakes and flaws.”
Grey let go of Sirus and got up, walking right up to the carving. He started at one end and scrutinized his way right to the other, occasionally lifting a hand and running his fingers over the ridges. “I can’t see any mistakes, and I don’t think you’d have any trouble selling it.”
“Trust me, they’re there.” Reluctantly, Sirus stood and walked to the wall too, stopping at Grey’s side. “See?” He pointed to the lower left side of the piece. “Right here I miscalculated the scale of the trees to the mountain, and in the overall dimensions they’re so big they could be toothpicks for giants.”
Leaning in and then back, examining the area Sirus had pointed out, Grey finally said, “They’re not that big.” He glanced at Sirus and rolled his eyes. “You’re being overly critical. There’s so much detail over the whole piece I wouldn’t have even noticed them if you hadn’t pointed it out.”
“Doesn’t mean the mistake isn’t there. Or a half-dozen others, for that matter. And no,” Sirus held up his hand when Grey opened his mouth, uninterested in keeping the focus on his artwork, “I’m not going to point them out to you. If you stare long enough, you’ll see them for yourself. You can do that if you want. Or,” he trailed his finger down Grey’s chest, ending at his thatch of pubic hair, “you can come back to bed.”
A half-smile touched Grey’s lips, and it reached all the way up into his eyes in a way that got Sirus’s heart thudding. Grey lifted his fingers to Sirus’s chest and started to slide them down his middle too, but they abruptly stopped on the edge of his tattoo. “Do you regret getting this?”
Sirus rubbed his palm over the mustang tattoo, long ago having memorized its exact position and intricate design. “For a long time it hurt to see it,” he admitted. “But ultimately I think looking at it every day made me face the break-up with Paul faster than I might have otherwise.” Sirus made eye contact with Grey and raised a brow. “I literally could not run from a very real symbol of my relationship with him.”
“You could have had it removed,” Grey said. “I understand it hurts like hell, but it can be done.”
Sirus shook his head and took a step back, letting Grey’s hand fall away from him. “I couldn’t have done that.” He put his hand over the tattoo, almost in protection of the very idea of laser removal. “I thought about it, for about a second, then I remembered how hard Kelsie worked on getting the design just perfect to her high standards, and I couldn’t just have it removed like it was nothing.”
“Right.” Nodding, Grey’s attention drifted from the tattoo to Sirus’s piece on the wall, then moved back to Sirus. “One artist respects another’s work.”
“No.” With effort, Sirus bit his tongue and kept the irritation to correct Grey’s mistaken “artist” label out of his tone. “One friend respects the time and effort another friend took in the creation of the design on his behalf. I think of that now when I look at it. Rarely do I think of Paul.” As Sirus said those words, the truth of them settled in on him in a way they never had before.
I’m over Paul. Completely.
Wow. Sirus was momentarily stunned that the realization wasn’t even that big a deal to him. It just … was.
Sirus looked at Grey and took in the stunning beauty of the naked man before him, whose heart and mind he was getting to know very well. A deep sense of rightness—well beyond what he’d ever experienced for any other man—settled on him and sank right into his heart. It didn’t matter that Grey might not ever love him back, or that this fling might not last beyond next week, Sirus knew and accepted he was a better man right now for having known Greyson Cole.
He didn’t intend to
waste a minute of the time they had together talking about a tattoo or a carving on his wall.
“Come with me.” Sirus beckoned Grey with the crook of his finger as he walked backward around the bed.
Grey followed, his eyes already filling with dark heat. “What is on your mind, Wilder?” It suddenly felt as if Grey stalked Sirus, rather than allowing himself to be led.
Sirus’s heart rate kicked up, his cock twitched to half-mast, and his pucker started to pulse in a fast beat. “I believe I owe you a piece of my ass in fair trade.” He reached back and slid open his nightstand drawer. “Pick your poison,” he stepped aside, revealing a plethora of sex toys, “and tell me how you want me.” He caught Grey’s gaze from two feet away, and held it. “I’m yours.”
Grey growled and lunged. Rather than going for a toy, he grabbed Sirus and branded him with a hard, hot kiss, and tumbled them onto the bed.
Laughing in between kisses, Sirus didn’t fight the fall.
Chapter Eighteen
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Grey glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantle, and smiled. Right on time.
“Be right there!” he called out, taking just a few seconds to put down his laptop before jumping to his feet. He hadn’t been able to concentrate on work anyway. Not with thoughts of Sirus invading his brain every five minutes … and leaving him hard. He’d already gone to his bedroom and jerked off twice, and he had only been away from the man for five hours.
Won’t be long before you see him again. Excitement hummed through Grey as he raced to the door and swung it open. Sirus is going to be so fucking thrilled.
“Rebecca,” Grey drew the woman on the other side into a hug, “you made it.”
“Of course I did,” the woman answered. Grey stepped back and allowed her to enter the cabin. “You send me pictures of some beautiful creations and then text me that I have to meet this man and see the rest of his work. You knew I would work a visit into my schedule.” She stomped snow off her boots and unwound a black cashmere wrap from her slender frame. As Grey took the cover-up from her and shut the door, Rebecca shot him a pointed look. “You could have told me with the first message that he wasn’t in Raleigh, though, and that I’d have to clear an entire day to drive halfway up a mountain to see him.”
“He’s worth it.” Grey couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice. Rebecca was an old friend from college who now owned a prestigious line of galleries that operated in seven states. She travelled all over the country searching for new artists, but she maintained a home base with her husband and children in Raleigh. “You’ll see that for yourself.”
“Considering you’ve never approached me about who or what to sell in my galleries in the past, you certainly piqued my interest with your photos and messages.” Grey and John had financed Rebecca’s first gallery, and then her eventual expansion. She owned her business outright today.
Grey led the way to the kitchen, and poured Rebecca a cup of coffee. Handing a mug to her, then getting one for himself, he said, “No pressure to take Sirus’s work.” He pulled out a chair at the table for her before sitting down himself. “You don’t owe me or John anything anymore. You know that.”
Rebecca reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry. I didn’t think you were trying to bully me.” She pulled her long blonde hair back and tied it in a knot at the nape of her neck. “Now, why don’t you find me a cookie, or a muffin, or anything chocolate, and tell me all about this talented Sirus Wilder.”
Talented. Yes. Grey’s insides heated, and he couldn’t keep the goddamned smile off his face. Sirus was talented. In so many ways. Sweet as hell too.
Grey couldn’t wait to introduce him to Rebecca.
“Did Mom put you up to calling me?” Sirus asked, his voice going tight as he struggled not to shout at Nic. “Is that what this offer is all about?” Out of the blue—after never having shown a bit of interest in Sirus’s art—Nic suddenly thought Sirus would be the perfect person to create an oversized sculpture his office building’s management wanted to put in their outdoor garden. “Is this some ploy to get me to DC?” Sirus couldn’t forget how badly his mother wanted him to meet that woman lawyer.
“No.” Irritation laced Nic’s voice, and in the background it sounded to Sirus like he moved through a crowd. “I haven’t talked to Mom since before the last time I talked to you.”
“Seems strange that you’re all of a sudden approaching me about my art.” Sirus held the phone to his ear, pacing. He circled his large worktable, his focus on the series of sketches he had scattered all over the surface. “You’ve never shown any interest before.”
“That’s because I don’t know dick about art and never know what to say,” Nic snapped. “Not because I don’t care that you love it. You are my brother, you know. Just because I don’t get to see you that often doesn’t mean I don’t love you and care about the things you love. Look,” Sirus heard what sounded like a car door slamming, “I have to get going or I’m going to be late for a meeting. The offer for the artwork isn’t even a done deal. Building ownership is going to look at the proposals of every artist interested in the commission, and they’ll choose what they want from there. I heard about it, and it made me think of you. That’s why I called. Do whatever you want with the information.
Now, before I have to go, will I see you in May for Diana’s opening concert?”
“I plan on being there.” Sirus’s chest squeezed thinking about how strained his relationship with his mother might be by then … as well as what might remain of him and Grey. He cleared his throat, but it didn’t quite ease the rawness living inside him.
“Looking forward to it.”
“Me too. Should be good material to tease Di with, at least through next Christmas.”
Nic’s chuckle, one that brought Diana endless torment, filled Sirus’s ear. “Right?”
“Depends on who you’re asking.” Sirus shook his head, wondering if Diana sometimes regretted being adopted by the Wilder family. “Be good.”
“Ain’t no fun in that.” Nic’s chuckle briefly turned into a full-bodied laugh. Just as fast, the humor left his voice. “Seriously, though, think about the commission, and let me know if you want me to send you any further info. I think you should consider pursuing it. Gotta go. Bye.”
Nic hung up before Sirus could say goodbye. Sirus severed the call on his end, put down the cordless receiver, and tried to put his attention back on his sketches. He couldn’t seem to focus on his main piece—the one that kept wanting to turn into an abstract version of Grey—so Sirus had put his tools down and picked up a pencil to doodle some ideas for Noah’s sculpture. Sirus wanted something large, but somehow subtle, that would reflect the quietness inside the big man. Sirus knew in his gut Noah would end up buying the east house on the lake, and he wanted something ready for his new neighbor’s home whenever that day occurred.
His fingers drifted over the dozen papers strewn about the table, but his thoughts jumped from the piece for Noah, to the strange phone call from his brother, to Grey and the two nights the man had stayed at Sirus’s house since the talk about their families.
Grey appeared content and relaxed in Sirus’s home, at least most of the time. There were flashes where Sirus swore Grey looked like he wanted to stay forever. At the same time, Grey insisted on going home every morning and working at his cabin during the day, only coming back in the evening for dinner and to spend the night. Sirus wanted to attribute Grey’s choice to return to his cabin to the fact that they both knew being together would cause endless distractions, such as crawling on whatever surface they happened to be nearest to and fucking until neither one of them could walk. Sirus wanted to believe that was what was behind Grey’s leaving every day, but he couldn’t quite make it happen. He couldn’t quite shake the worry that Grey hadn’t given him even a hint of anything personal since their talk two nights ago.
But he makes love to you like there’s no tomorrow, with a d
esperation that defies words. Lets you do the same to him too.
True. Sirus ached for the moments when he was buried inside Grey to the hilt, the man’s body clutching him like he never wanted them to part. The way Grey looked at Sirus in those moments, and in the times when Sirus opened himself and gave Grey the same… God, if only Grey would give him even half the promises of tomorrows he conveyed during sex … only do it when they weren’t in bed.
“Knock, knock.” Grey’s voice broke into Sirus’s thoughts and had him whipping around to face the open shed door. Sirus immediately ate the man up with his eyes, hungrily, as if he hadn’t had Grey’s cock and ass for a meal just this morning.
“I have a friend with me,” Grey said, slipping his arm around an attractive blonde woman. “She’s actually here to meet you, if you have a few minutes.”
Sirus’s focus shifted to the woman, who murmured “Hi,” and wiggled out from under Grey’s embrace. She immediately walked to Sirus’s unfinished “Grey” piece, her interest clear, and the first line of cold trickled down Sirus’s spine.
“Oh, wow, this is going to be amazing,” the woman said. “I want it when it’s finished.”
She said that just as Grey said, “This—that,” he pointed, “is Rebecca Hardy, and she owns a number of prestigious art galleries.”
The wind went right out of Sirus; he felt punched in the gut. He wanted to ask Grey what the hell he’d done, but the woman, Rebecca, had her hands on his incomplete project and demanded his attention first. Sirus moved across the floor to Rebecca’s side and fought the most powerful urge to tear her hands off his work.
Rebecca glanced up, her pretty face open and her eyes piercing. “This is going to be something incredible,” she said as she caressed the half-carved block of stone. “The lines you have half-formed are already beautiful.”