Not His Kiss to Take (7 page)

But he had admired him…

And so his dick stayed semi-hard.

How many shades of wrong was that?

Chapter Five

“
This is a stupid game.”
And kinda boring
. Jamie slouched over the table, feeling miserable with an upset stomach he was never gonna admit having. Doctor Twisted-As-Fuck, sitting across the table and looking particularly smug, probably knew ten painful and undoubtedly embarrassing treatments for it. “Stupid,” he mumbled.

“
It is not,” Evan argued. Lord, the man loved to argue, like it was a second language or something. “Chess is the greatest game ever invented.”

Slouching further, Jamie rolled his eyes. “It’s boring. Nothing ever happens! You just move a bunch of pieces around the board. You can’t even shoot anyone. What fun is that?” At least bugging the doc provided some amusement. When Evan relaxed, he was great company. That was also when his wicked sense of humor came out to play.

“
It’s a mind game. A game of strategy. Of outwitting your opponent.”

“
Outwitting?” Really? Yeah, okay. “You outwitted me just by talking me into learning this stupid game. Can I gracefully concede now?”

Evan gave him one of his best smiles, the kind that lit up his whole face. “You sure you want to? You’re actually doing pretty good this time. Look, you’ve still got your queen.”

That’s good?
Maybe if you called not getting checkmated in less than five minutes
good
. “Yeah, I’m sure. Before I fall into a coma from the boredom of losing to you repeatedly.” He tipped over his king and dramatically fell across the table in defeat. “You win.” Jamie propped his head on his arm. “Again.”

Better than bugging the doctor was hearing him laugh. Looked like he didn’t do it often enough, if you asked him. Jamie’d have to think of more ways to draw him out. When he felt better.

“
You hungry? Want some hot chocolate or something?”

Sighing heavily, Jamie answered with, “Maybe some hot chocolate.” Better to agree to something fast before he ended up with another plateful of those quinoa-flour cookies—nasty, oh goddamn. Tasted like dusty cardboard ripped from the floor of somebody’s smelly garage. But Evan’s homemade hot chocolate was to die for. “Thanks,” he said as Evan moved to make a fresh batch, leaving him to put away that horrid game that was possibly less entertaining than watching paint dry
.

The way Evan constantly tried to stuff food into him drove Jamie nuts.
Maybe he thinks I’m a skinny runt or something. Or he thinks he’s papa bird.
Except most of the food wasn’t quite fit for human consumption and he should know, since he’d worked in many a restaurant and seen what they dished out to unsuspecting diners. They ate strange things—some with unpronounceable names—that goats couldn’t gnaw through. Most of it tasted okay ’cause Evan could actually cook, but Christ, no wonder his stomach hurt. Too much organic love going on—his guts weren’t used to it. Mac and cheese made up one of the four food groups, but Evan just had to go and ruin his using whole wheat pasta. Gag.

Not only was Evan a little pervy—okay, a lot pervy—he was also weird. Sunny skies meant keeping the blinds closed. What the fuck? They never saw the sun as it was in winter. If anything had a perfume or scent to it, it had to be all natural, essential oils and all that crap. Everything was organic, including the laundry soap, which, bizarrely, Evan made himself. And the man never went anywhere unless he absolutely had to and planned it out with military precision beforehand. No wonder he beat Jamie’s ass so fast at chess.

Kinda made him sad to think that Evan lived in fear of things like bright sunshine and food additives, all because he had a headache that never ended. Jamie couldn’t imagine enduring that for years.
Years!
Not that he wanted to go anywhere either right now.
It’s not safe out there…

“…
fucking cocksucker…”

They’d talked, that day after. Evan said he could stay as long as he wanted—and how Jamie wanted, with a desperation he hated to admit even to himself. Cocooned in Evan’s sheltered nest, he felt safe.

It had been just a week since…it happened. Remembering that night caused him to sweat profusely and feel all weird inside, so he tried very hard not to think about it.
I couldn’t even fight back.
Didn’t mean snippets of darkness didn’t sometimes catch him unawares. Nighttime was the worst. Evan always caught him freaking out. Christ, did the man sleep with one eye open?

But he’d sleep better tonight. Last night, after Jamie had woken Evan at three a.m. by knocking the lamp off the night table, the doc had removed the bandage from around his ribs. They’d only been bruised, he confirmed, not broken. Thank God. His lip felt better too, and so did the inside of his mouth where he’d gnashed the shit out of it with his teeth—that one guy who’d hit him, the one who’d given him the concussion, he’d had…
big fucking fists
.

“
Like that, faggot…”

Of course, Evan had a yucky mouthwash for fixing sore mouths too. And Jamie could breathe through his nose again. Best of all, Evan removed all but one of the funny bandages on Jamie’s temple, and it no longer felt like his eyebrow was glued to his forehead.

But down below?

Still sore. Jamie adjusted his slouch, easing the pressure against tender, healing flesh. Dr. Horny-pants wanted him to see some specialist friend of his. Yay, a penis doctor. Probably cost thousands just to walk through the door and get eye-bleed from the crappy artwork…but…? Yeah,
but
.
Can’t afford it. And Evan says it looks okay to him.

And I trust Evan, even if he gets a hard-on every time he touches me, the sicko.

Evidently, whipped cream came in an organic variety. His cup fairly sloshed with heaps of it as Evan set the mug down in front of him. Dark chocolate and sweetness exploded on his tongue as he took the first sip. Delicious, delightful empty calories—yum. “This is really good,” he said with a groan of contentment.

“
Thanks,” Evan said. “Dark chocolate can be healthy in moderation.”

“
Yeah?” Jamie teased. “Would that be before or after that addition of half a cup of sugar?”

Sheesh.
How could the guy blush over getting caught falling for the evils of sugar and yet act like having catheters lying around for kinky sex games was nothing? “Um…” Evan said.

Despite his unhappy stomach, Jamie laughed. “Someone’s got a sweet tooth…” he sang.

Evan scowled at him. “It’s for medicinal purposes only.”

“
Uh-huh.”

“
No more cookies for you, mister.”

Hallelujah and amen to that.
“Thank God.”

Oops. Evan looked offended. “You don’t like my cookies?”

“
They need chocolate chips in them.”

Evan perked up again. “Maybe. You know…that’s a good idea.”

Though the kitchen sparkled, Evan tidied anyway, putting the chess set away in a cupboard where it would hopefully stay. Jamie was starting to think the cleaning thing wasn’t because Evan was a neat freak; he did it because he needed to fill up empty hours with something and scrubbed madly out of habit. Not that Jamie would ever ask why Evan never had company. Didn’t take a genius to notice how lonely Evan was—how alone.

Evan’s house—the penthouse, because the doc was obviously rich as shit—was the nicest home Jamie had ever been in. The kitchen alone was bigger than his entire rental and was, by far, his favorite room. Slate, carved wood, warm copper—Jamie loved it all. It had its own gas fireplace, for Pete’s sake. Not the kind of decor you’d expect from someone like Evan. Meeting him, you’d imagine stainless steel, white paint, and cold sterility.

Evan was like…two separate people crammed into one body.
Hot and cold. Prim and proper and break the kink-o-meter.
Jamie’d admit to being fascinated. He’d never met anyone like Evan Harrison. And he found himself getting fascinated all over again watching him move around the kitchen, all that grace and power, that steely confidence. Everything he was not. Then his stomach grumbled.

“
You feeling okay?” Evan asked.

Shit.
The guy had frickin’ eyes in the back of his head
and
ears like a bat. “Just not used to all this health-food stuff.” Admitting anything was gonna cost him, but Evan seemed concerned. Couldn’t repay that kindness with a lie. “Upsets my stomach.”

Evan’s eyes narrowed and raked over him, doing that doctor-assessment thing Jamie’d grown to hate.

“
And those pills you gave me…” But he hadn’t had any of those in days, and even then, he’d only had a few. Junkie doc was actually kinda stingy with the drugs. What the hell was with that? Never did get along with Oxy-whatever anyway.

“
Ah,” Evan said.

Oh crap. How could one little word be so scary? “I’ll be fine,” he hastily added.

“
You want something for it?”

Groaning, Jamie rested his head on his arm and continued slouching. “No thanks.”

Doc eyed him suspiciously. “Suit yourself. But if you change your mind, let me know.”

“
I won’t.”
Please let me dodge this bullet.

Still watching him, Evan sipped his cocoa. Made him squirm in his seat. “You know…” Evan began.

Shit. Here comes the bullet.

“
I’ve taken those pills myself. They’re quite constipating.”

Decidedly cranky, Jamie wasn’t feeling charitable. “So’s that cement you made those cookies out of.”

For a second, Jamie thought he’d gone too far. But then Evan’s eyes sparkled. They always did before he smiled. He grinned hugely. “They are kinda dry. They really do need chocolate chips.”

“
Then they’ll be perfect,” Jamie lied.

“
Your mama never washed your mouth out with soap for lying, did she?”

“
Nope. Neither did the hundred different babysitters.”

“
Hundred babysitters?” Evan looked positively scandalized.

“
My mom works—worked—all the time. Since my dad split and never paid a penny of support, she had to. I hope he’s rotting someplace unpleasant.” Jamie scowled. “With lots of roaches. And honkin’ big mosquitoes drilling him full of deadly diseases.” Jamie barely remembered his father, and what he remembered had long since been tainted by his grown-up knowledge that he’d been abandoned by his deadbeat dad.
Probably why I can’t stand Derek. Two of a kind. When ya gonna smarten up, Mom?

“
Sorry. About your dad.”

“
S’all right. I don’t even miss him anymore.” But he did.

For a moment, Evan just sat and watched him. Such kind eyes. When was the last time someone looked at him like that, like he was worth something? “Wanna watch a movie?” Evan asked, breaking the spell. “We could finish
Planet Earth
. I think we left off somewhere on the way to China.”

Maybe it was Evan’s ginormous TV, or maybe it was the stunning scenery in every episode, but Jamie loved that series. They’d been watching it for days, especially when he’d been too sore to move farther than from the couch to the guest bed and back, and had been looking forward to the China episode in particular. “I’d love to go there someday. China, I mean. I really wanna see the Great Wall. I’ve only ever blown the shit out of it in a video game.”

“
It’s fantastic,” Evan said.

“
What? You’ve been there?”