Page 28 of The Tourist

“I guess,” Iagreed. I stayed in place, just looking at him and smiling myencouragement and care, though my breath was shallow and I was surehe felt how hard I was, my cock warm and thick against his leg. Butmaybe he needed more time to work this through. I knew I’d wait.That was never in question.

Even if thatwas an unfamiliar situation for the tourist in me.

“It’s notthat I don’t like being cared for. Having someone who wants to dothat.” His eyes glanced down then back up to me. His cheeks wereflushed and his smile had returned. “You know?”

His fingersdug into the flesh of my arms but I didn’t complain. He wasexplaining things his own way.

“Yeah, well,I like it too.”

“Huh?” Hefrowned. “What do you mean?”

I wasn’t surewhat had possessed me to say that. I was the steady one, right? Theone to be relied on, who didn’t need a safeguard. That’s what Rickyliked in me. But not always. What about what I needed? My foundations had beenrocked by what I’d discovered about this man—about my feelings forhim. The connection between us now ran through my veins, colouringmy vision, quickening my pulse.

It was farricher than the day I found some extra courage and stepped intothat shower with him. When I took some dizzy, delicious pleasure.Something else, indeed.

“I never knewif you felt the same.” I took a slow, careful breath. “I’ve beenscared, too. Of not being enough for you. That you were too hot,too gorgeous for me. That I was too dull to match your smartness.That somehow… I’d spoil you. That you wouldn’t want my homespunbrand of devotion, my kind of—”

“Love? Dan, no way! I love you too,” he interrupted, eyesshining. “You stupid bloody arse! And there’s me, thinking youwouldn’t want me,my damaged goods—”

And then Ipulled him into a proper kiss, with a shared laugh, and tongues andgrabby hands, and the apologies and confessions got nipped in thebud.

***

When I’dreceived Ricky’s call that night—the first, aborted call—I was backin my flat, waiting. I was sitting on my bed, still and silent, anopen but untouched beer on the table, my boots thrown to the sideand my shirt untucked. I hadn’t bothered turning on some music as Ioften did at the end of the night, and a couple of utility billslay on the floor, the carelessly discarded remains of the day’spost I picked up on my way in. I’d dragged my heels all the wayback from Ricky’s flat to mine, past the near-deserted roads, pastthe bar as it was finally closing, past groups and couples on theirway home. I’d listened to a medley of traffic noise, distantsirens, laughter, argument, and complaint about the cold, yet all Icould hear in my mind was the sharp sound of Ricky’s phone ringingwith Calder’s demands. And I brooded on the memory of Ricky’s wideeyes when I questioned him—and his lack of real denial.

Waiting forhim to call? I hadn’t dared hope. I’d thought it was allover.

Afterwards, Iwondered if I could have spotted Calder somewhere, stalking Ricky,but the bastard was probably smarter than that. I hadn’t beenlooking for that kind of trouble anyway. All I’d wanted at the timewas to get home and lick my wounds, sure that I’d lost Ricky. Itwas like all the energy had gone from me, like a light switch hadbeen turned off. A strange feeling, when I’d started the day so…strong.

When Ianswered the phone and Ricky disconnected, it confused me. I’dnever thought he could be deliberately cruel. When he called again,I’d considered ignoring it. For all of five seconds. Then Ianswered, my hand shaking, only to hear an odd mixture ofbackground sounds that were barely distinct. Something kept melistening, though. And eventually I heard Ricky’s voice, talkingnot to me, but to someone else. Shocking words, his voice high andfearful, the echo not right for his flat. When I heard the clatterof the phone falling, I was already on my feet, scrambling backinto my boots. I understood enough to get Ricky’s message, thathe’d been taken back to the bar for some reason. That he wasunwilling. In danger.

Ten secondslater I was hammering on my neighbour’s door to call the police. Noway was I breaking contact with Ricky’s cry for help to make thecall myself. And then I left my flat at a run, still listening in,on my way back to the bar.

…coming through that door like some hero…

And now wewere here, together. On holiday. In love. Safe. I wasn’t a guy whocried, but my eyes were itching…

“Dan?” Rickyslipped out from under my arm and turned us both towards the hotelwindow again. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Our shoulders touched andhis arm reached across my back to rest on my opposite hip. I wasvery happy to stand beside him like this, gazing out on the slowlysinking evening sun.

“The sea?Yeah. I’m really glad we came.” I was still half hard, thinking ofhim, smelling his skin close to mine, his taste still in my mouth.“We needed to get away.”

“Just for awhile,” he murmured.

I nodded, andleant against him for a few peaceful, silent seconds. There wasgoing to be plenty of time for us. Our homes—ourlives—would be safe.Things were going to be all right.

“Would youhave been scared of that, too?” His hand stroked almost aimlesslyat the small of my back. “I mean, in the cellar…”

“Of a knife?Of a guy who’d beaten me and systematically run me down for months?Yeah, of course I would. Fuck it, Ricky…”

He made ashushing noise under his breath and slid his hand inside the backwaistband of my sweats. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath them.The touch of his fingers on my naked skin was both shocking andthrilling. Sure, we’d fooled around and had sex since the nightwith Calder, but it had been…

“Nervous,” hesaid, his voice low in my ear. “We’ve been nervous, right? Dan,you’ve been fucking me these last couple of days like I mightbreak. Do you really think that’s the way I like it?”

My laugh cameout on a stutter. How the hell had he known what I was thinking?Yet as his hand caressed the base of my spine, I could feel hisdesire easing its way to me in the same way I could see the waveslapping on the beach. My heart warmed; my skin tingled. The bondwas both strong and stimulating. I’d never felt anything likeit—anything as good. But when I tried to turn around, he pressed his other handbetween my shoulder blades, guiding me face-forward against thewall beside the window, holding me in place against it. Therewasn’t any coercion in it, just… demand.

“Ricky?”

He nudged hishead against the back of my neck. His lips brushed the soft fleshbeneath my ear. I felt every inch of my skin flush withheat.