Paul opened the fridge door, peered inside and closed it again, debating what to make for lunch. Not that he was thinking about food.
He was thinking about Adam.
Paul couldn’t help noticing how quiet he’d been since he’d come downstairs for breakfast. Adam appeared preoccupied, his mind elsewhere, and after the night they’d spent together, it was enough to set Paul’s stomach churning. Hell, all his insides were quivering.
What did I do wrong?
The one thing he could think of was that he’d been too tender, too intent on enjoying Adam’s body, too wrapped up in the sensuality of it all.
Think about it. He seemed to enjoy it last night, but ever since then he’s touched me differently. Adam’s caresses had been softer, more sensual.Is that because he thinks that’s howIwant it to be? But doeshewant this?Paul’s heart pounded, his breathing ragged at the memory of Adam bringing Seth into the conversation.
Does he want a submissive, not a lover?
It didn’t matter that he’d loved every single minute of their night together. If he and Adam were going to have a future, then Paul would have to provide what Adam needed, even though that might require some changes.
I don’t want to lose him.
His phone warbled in his pocket. He connected the call when he saw it was Taylor. “Hey.”
“Happy Sunday! The sun is shining, it’s an Indian summer and it’s lovely and warm down here. You’re coming to lunch at the Beach Shack with me, Mark and Sam.”
Paul had to smile at his forthright friend. “Lunch? Now?”
“I’m not gonna take no for an answer,” Taylor stated firmly. “I haven’t seen you for a couple of weeks. It’s the only day Mark and Sam have available to come over, and we want to see you. We’ve missed you.” Taylor’s voice softened. “David’s gonna stay at home: he’s into the final chapters of his book and he’d prefer to have me out of the way.” He chuckled. “Not that he’d ever say as much, but I know him.”
Ordinarily Paul would’ve said yes instantly, but Adam’s subdued mood made him hesitate.
“Taylor, thanks for the invite, but not today.”
“Aww, Paul,” he whined. “How often do the four of us manage to do this, huh? What with your job, Mark’s salon, Sam working till all hours on his computer…” He sighed heavily. “Give me one good reason why not.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to see you, Mark and Sam, it’s just that….” Paul paused, unsure of how to frame his apprehension. “I don’t want to leave Adam on his own, that’s all.”
“Fine,” Taylor huffed. “You’ll be missed though. Call me soon, okay?”
“I will, I promise.” Paul disconnected and pocketed the phone. There was still the matter of lunch to think about.
And trying to ignore the dull ache in his chest.
“Call him back.”
Paul gave a start. “God, Adam, you made me jump.”
Adam stood in the doorway, his forehead furrowed. “Call him back and tell him you’ve changed your mind,” he repeated.
Paul was at a loss. “Why? I don’t mind not going, honestly. I was going to make us some lunch, and?—”
“I am perfectly capable nowadays of making myself something to eat,” Adam said, his jaw set. “I can even cope with the intricacies of making a sandwich.” He bit his lip, his fingers gripping the door frame. “I know you don’t think of me as an invalid, Paul, but just now? You made me feel like one.”
Shit.
Paul swallowed hard. Adam had a point. “You’re right,” he said with a sigh. “And yes, you are perfectly capable of feeding yourself. I’m sorry, I… I wasn’t sure if you were having a bad day, in which case I didn’t want you to be on your own.”
Adam’s shoulders sagged and his expression grew less tight. “I’m sorry for the way I reacted. Maybe I’m being overly sensitive. You just caught me on the raw, I think.” He walked toward Paul, hand outstretched, and Paul took it. “Thank you for thinking of me. I do appreciate it. But now get out and go eat some of Andy’s delicious crab tart or something with your friends. And there’s no need to hurry back. I will be fine.” He pulled Paul to him, feeling for his face, and kissed him. “I’m going to the office.” He left Paul in the kitchen.
Paul stared after him.
He’s got something on his mind.
