“No reason not to do it again. What?” he says as I raise my eyebrow. “We’ve already done something wrong, so let’s just keep doing it. It’ll get easier then.”
“You are actually Satan. This is likeThe Omenif Damien had been excessively snarky.”
“It’s probably a good job that Cynthia wouldn’t let me have a dog, then.”
I laugh and before I can step away from him, I somehow end up pulling him close and kissing him again. I’m doomed.
chapter 8
. . .
Xavier
My phone ringing wakes me up. For a few seconds, I actually don’t know where I am. Then I recognise my hotel room. Ah yes. Meeting Daddy Dearest.
The phone stops ringing. It wasn’t Reuben, as he’d prefer to throw himself off a tall building rather than willingly contact me. I laugh out loud in the quiet room at the thought of his face last night. Should I be feeling worry or guilt about being with him?
No, I don’t think so.
The hour I spent with Jez confirmed my suspicion I wouldn’t be able to stand him, so I’m unconcerned about his feelings. And Reuben is too fucking hot to feel guilt about. I’d known I wouldn’t be able to resist him the moment I sat next to him in the bar.
First, there was his voice, deep and husky-sounding with an intriguing Scottish burr. I shiver. I’ve always been a sucker for a Scottish man. Blame Sean Connery and my grandfather’s addiction to Bond films. That, combined with the note of amusement as he spoke on the phone, had me intensely interested. Then he’d turned to me, and I’d seen his eyes, and that had been it.
I grab my rucksack from the side of the bed and root through it. After I find my sketch book and charcoals, I start to draw. As usual, just the motion of putting pencil to paper is soothing, and I lose myself. When I come to, it’s half an hour later, and my page is full of Reuben.
I study him. He’s so gorgeous—thick, dark hair, and a craggy face with bright grey eyes that look silver in certain lights. Taken individually, the elements of his face shouldn’t make him good-looking. He has a crooked nose, which has obviously been broken a few times. His lips are thin and his chin is stubborn and has a scar running down the side of it, but somehow, taken together, all those elements merge into something stunning.
And I actually hit that. Twice. I stretch, feeling the sun on my naked body and smirk in satisfaction. He’s so different from the boys at college.
I close my eyes, running a hand over my sun-warmed skin, remembering how Reuben’s touch had been firm and forceful. Yet I hadn’t felt forced in the slightest. I’d felt coveted and cared for. He’d given me something that, despite my experience with past hookups, I hadn’t even been aware I craved. And then when he’d sucked me, his eyes turning silver, his hands clinging like he’d never get enough…
My cock stiffens, and I spread my legs, cupping my balls before fisting my dick and giving it a lazy tug. I swallow, remembering his dick in my mouth, the girth that made me gag, and the approval in his eyes when I tried again. I think I’d do it again and again just to get that look.
The phone rings. I look at my dick and then at the mobile trilling away. “Shit,” I grunt.
I grab it and groan when I see the contact picture. Well, I definitely can’t ignore this. I click to connect the call. “Good morning, Grandma.”
Cynthia’s cool voice comes through loud and clear. “Did I wake you? Are you still in bed?” Disapproval is a silvery-cool line that runs through every word she speaks to me.
“No, of course not,” I lie. “I’ve been up for hours.” I look at the sheets and wince when I spot the charcoal smudges on them. I wonder if I’ll lose my damage deposit and then smile when I realise that’s very much Jez’s problem, not mine.
“Hmm. So, your grandfather and I were wondering how it went yesterday?”
“It was okay.”
“Was he as obnoxious as I remember him?”
I laugh. “Probably more, to be honest. He’s a complete prat.”
“Oh, dear. Perhaps you should come home, darling. I don’t know why you wanted to meet him anyway.”
“Well, it’s done now.” I hadn’t been lying when I told Reuben that I wanted to see Jez and, more importantly, be seen by him. I wanted him to recognise me, to know that I was on this earth—a fact he’s striven to ignore for my whole life. His actions have impacted me in so many ways, and I want that to be recognised. I don’t want to be ignored. I fucking hate that more than anything else.
“Exactly. Come home and leave the odious little man on his own.”
Home. I think of the house I grew up in. It’s perfect and perfectly sterile—no books, no music. The only thing messy in it is me, and we all know that. I’m like the charcoal smudges on my white sheets.
“Well, he wouldn’t be on his own,” I say after a moment.
