“Seriously?” Jimmy laughed, grinning up at the gangster and shaking his head. “Yeah, I guess... I guess I’m not that worried about it.”
Chapter Nineteen
Once nine o’clock rolled around, Cold gave Jimmy plenty of time to work off some of his debt. Cold tied him up, keeping him stretched out across the bed and teased him for hours before finally giving in and finding their sweet end together. After a long evening of such hard labor, Jimmy passed out with a happy smile on his face.
Too bad he didn’t wake up that way.
Jimmy jerked up from the sheets suddenly, his heart racing and his skin sweating all over. A nightmare, he told himself, it was only a nightmare.
There had been so much blood that it had been gushing down the walls, and his mother had been screaming in his ears. The rain had been pouring outside, thunder crashing and lightning crackling all around the house. The Man in the White Coat had been right there, leering over him, laughing and laughing, but he still had no face.
He didn’t have a face, only a black hole that threatened to swallow Jimmy completely. He had been sucked right into it, falling and falling, waking when his stomach dropped and everything went dark.
Panting hard, Jimmy tried to shake off the remaining panic from the bad dream. It wasn’t real. None of it was real. He sat up, rubbing his hands over his face.
He was in bed alone and fumbled for his phone to see that it was a little after five in the morning. He could hear the shower running, but he didn’t dare disturb Cold. The bathroom door would be locked anyway.
Jimmy reached down around the foot of the bed, feeling for something to wear. The first thing he grabbed was Cold’s dress shirt from last night. He smiled, pulling it on over his head and breathing in the warm and familiar scent of his lover.
He was far too awake to even attempt going back to sleep, slowly padding out of the bedroom and into the den. He had been dying to get a peek at Cold’s vinyl collection, and it was the perfect distraction to settle his restless mind. He turned on a small lamp, looking around excitedly. He could still hear the shower going. He had time to browse for a few moments.
Carefully thumbing through the records, Jimmy was delighted by the names he found. Sam Cooke, the Pixies, Wild Cherry, the Coasters, Queen, Cheap Trick, the Temptations. He paused when he found one album all the way in the back that didn’t have any cover art. He picked it up curiously, reading a small label.
Suzanne.
Cold’s mother.
Jimmy couldn’t resist, reverently taking the record out of the sleeve and setting it on the player. He bit his lip, anxiously getting the needle into place.
It was jazz, warm and slow, Suzanne’s voice rising up over the music with a strength and beauty that made Jimmy’s skin prickle with goosebumps. He tried to think of a singer to compare her to; maybe Ella Fitzgerald? Billie Holiday? But no, neither had that faint rough edge that Suzanne did. Neither sang of love with such an intensity that it made Jimmy’s heart ache, her voice carrying higher and higher and seeping right into his soul.
Jimmy stood there mesmerized, surprised when the second song began to play and he actually recognized it. It was a jazzy cover of a Patsy Cline song. He began to sing along, softly at first, but stronger as the melody took over. Suzanne’s voice was incredibly beautiful, and he slowly swayed his hips as he sang with her, feeling tears in his eyes as the music moved him.
So caught up in the song, he didn’t realize someone had turned off the lamp. Strong hands gently rested on his hips, and Jimmy jumped, yelping in terror. He tried to whirl around to see who had grabbed him, but Cold’s velvety voice was urgent.
“Don’t turn around.”
Jimmy froze, the words of the song suddenly lost to him.
“Please...” Cold urged quietly. “Keep singing.”
Pressing as close as he could, Jimmy reached back to hold Cold’s waist and gasped as he felt bare flesh under his hands. Cold wasn’t wearing a shirt. It didn’t feel like Cold was wearing much of anything.
Cold smelled fresh and clean from his shower, and Jimmy’s chest swelled with the thrill of knowing his lover was naked right behind him. He closed his eyes, his voice picking up the next chorus as he leaned into Cold’s warm body.
Cold’s hands moved all over him, fingers lightly dancing over the curve of Jimmy’s hipbone, reaching up his shirt and tracing along his sides and stomach, gently rocking him in time to his mother’s voice. Jimmy melted everywhere Cold touched, his voice stuttering sporadically as he tried not to moan.
Cold had never allowed him to be this close, his chin leaning on Jimmy’s shoulder. His arms felt strong, comforting, sliding easily around Jimmy’s waist with a familiarity that made his stomach flutter. Jimmy’s hands naturally fell to rest on his forearms, still singing, but trying to take in every detail of the exposed flesh.
In the dim glow of the light from the record player’s display, he could see a wicked tangle of scars. Some of them wrapped around Cold’s arms like snakes, a few were broad lakes of keloided tissue, and others were thin cuts like a spider web etched across his flesh.
Jimmy dared to touch and trace every one he could see. There was tension in Cold’s arms at first, but it began to ease away as the music played on. He let Jimmy explore all he wanted, his breathing soft and gentle at his ear.
Turning toward the sensation of warm breath, the last words of the song on his lips, Jimmy felt Cold’s mouth ghost over his skin, every muscle in his body winding tight in anticipation. He wanted to kiss Cold so terribly, reaching up to desperately rake his fingers through the man’s short hair to finally seize his lips.
Cold flinched away and easily caught Jimmy’s wrist, tangling their fingers together as he groaned. Jimmy could sense his indecision and tried to press closer to tip the scales in his favor.
Cold ducked his head away from Jimmy’s kiss, but left his hand where it was. Jimmy hated the rejection, but took full advantage of the new allowance he’d been given. He eagerly stroked his fingers over Cold’s head, dragging through his closely shorn hair, teasing over the edge of his ear. This was a gift.
