Boys in Season (Boys In... Book 2) (7 page)

“Who says I’m not?” Jamie thought his voice sounded hoarse, but the words had just spilled out of him. He’d taken a step nearer Seb, too.

Seb’s mouth opened then shut again.

“Seb, just because I don’t have a constant stream of dates doesn’t mean I don’t want attention.” Jamie knew he was straying into that ‘losing his cool’ danger zone again, but there was something very unusual about this evening, pushing him on. “It’s just a joke to you, that sometimes I stay in at the weekend, that sometimes I prefer to work late. You call me a bore because I don’t want to go cruising the bars all night in the hope of dragging home someone who meets the basic parameters of being warm and willing and possibly able to write his own name—”

“Cheap shot,” Seb growled. Jamie could see Seb’s temper bubbling up again in his darkening eyes.

Jamie drew a breath. “Yes,” he admitted. “Sorry.”

Seb stared again. “Um… me too, I guess.”

Jamie couldn’t remember the last time they’d apologised to each other. Had they ever? They argued, they shouted, the storm passed and they settled back on a more even keel. Until the next time. But they rarely acknowledged it after the event.

“Maybe I’d like something more.” Seb wouldn’t meet Jamie’s eyes. “Maybe that’s all I can cope with, while I try to find someone who…” He paused and grimaced down at the counter. He seemed to realise he was gripping his knife way too tightly for comfort. He unpeeled his fingers from the handle and let it fall back down. “Obviously
your
personal life’s all sorted. You think I’m jealous. Jealous of your life, all mapped out, calm and controlled. You don’t need anyone disturbing it, playing the fool, getting under your skin—” He broke off completely.

Jamie was shocked. “Seb, I didn’t mean… and we’re arguing again, just like usual.”

“That’s not what I want.” Seb spoke very swiftly, but vehemently. The pair of them went silent again, breathing heavily, eyes on each other.

“You told me about your mum,” Jamie said, slowly. Seb flushed again but didn’t rise to the bait. “I’m glad you did. I’m not playing the sympathy card here, but I wish I could remember mine. I was too young when I went into care.”

“Jamie…”

“No, it’s okay. My foster parents were good, they all were. It’s just I learned to be careful with people.” He swallowed hard, he’d never really spoken about his past like this. “I didn’t like anyone getting too close, in case they moved me on. I suppose that’s what made me so cautious. It’s only since I’ve been adult and living on my own that I’ve been able to make friends, to get to know people. Christmas was always strange, when I was young. Nowadays, at least I feel it’s my own life, I can make my own choices. But I don’t always get it right.” He shook his head, annoyed with himself. “I know I don’t express it well enough.”

“Yes, you do,” Seb said. He’d taken a step nearer, too. “Show me what you’re making.”

“Pardon? I mean, if you really want me to.” Jamie stood aside to show the salad he was preparing. It was a combination of ripe, bright green leaves and vegetables: pale and dark, common and exotic, all tossed together in a deep glass bowl. He was pleased with the combinations—the tartness of rocket leaves, the tang of fennel, crispy shreds of romaine lettuce, raw carrot and spring onion. Harry’s fridge and cupboards had been delightfully well-stocked, with as many vegetables as meat.

Seb was taking his time perusing Jamie’s handiwork, and Jamie made the most of the chance to take a deep breath. He felt very disorientated tonight, obviously making him speak so rashly.

“Look,” Seb said. “Whatever you think, I don’t do it deliberately.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Piss you off. The moodiness… well, it’s just me. It’s not petulance, whatever you say. I’m stubborn, okay, and hot-headed. But it’s not an act, Jamie. It’s just…”

“Passion.” The word said itself, Jamie swore it.

Seb’s eyes widened and something flickered in the depths of his pupils, like tiny flames. “Uh. Yes. I just see that disapproving expression on your face and that’s it, I see red. I want to shake up that coldness in you. I just follow my feelings, you know? Well, you probably do. You think that’s reckless, I find it liberating. But it’s not always the right thing to do, I know that. It can be fucking annoying. Okay, so can
I
. But like you said about yourself, I’m not always happy about that.”

“It’s not coldness.” Jamie was stricken. “That’s not how I feel towards you. Far from it!” He knew the flush was spreading all through his body, he could feel it. He’d look like one of the sweet peppers on the counter if he wasn’t careful. “And I’m beginning to agree with you, too—about the liberating effect. I see the way you behave, and the fun you have, and the confidence you have.” He stopped, then laughed gently. “For a presumably intelligent, articulate young man, I’m still struggling, right?”

“No,” Seb said. Now it was the turn of his voice to sound hoarse. “You’re clear enough to me.”

Jamie gazed at him. It was as if they suddenly spoke without words. He reached out a hand and brushed the damp hair off Seb’s forehead. “Maybe you’re not the only one who gets jealous,” he said.

***

Seb was vividly aware of a lot of things, suddenly—the humid air in the kitchen; the harsh sound of his breath; the way Jamie’s hair curled awkwardly over his left ear; the bright shine of emotion in Jamie’s eyes.

“Here,” he said, abruptly. “You want some?” He scooped up a handful of the cranberries he’d been using in his chutney and held them out.

Jamie looked down, startled, but then he opened up his own hand and let Seb trickle them into his palm. With Seb watching, Jamie turned back to his dish and scattered them carefully into the salad. He picked up a wooden spoon and mixed them in, the rich, dark red berries shining in contrast with the greens. “A true Christmas effect,” he said slowly, and smiled. “It looks good.”

Seb grinned, too. His mouth was watering and he wasn’t sure it was entirely due to the food. “Yeah, it does. You’re a really good cook yourself, Jamie. Not just the technique, but the creativity as well, you know? Hell, if I had to eat nothing but the green and grassy stuff—well, that dish would probably do it for me.”

Jamie’s mouth twisted in a smile. “And I’m meant to take that as a compliment?”

“Yeah, right, sorry.” Seb shrugged, ruefully. “Shit, if you’re going to get pissed at me again—”

But Jamie ignored him. “I never tasted them before,” he said, tentatively, his eyes flickering between the dish of berries on the counter and Seb’s face, as if watching his reaction. “Cranberries.”

Seb raised his eyebrows. “No? Mum liked them at Christmas, she’d buy bags of the damn things, and we’d end up having them with everything until March. Here, let me.” He picked another one off the pile and held it out.

Jamie hesitated. His hands stayed by his sides. His eyelids drooped, making his eyes look sleepy, almost lascivious.

Seb’s breath caught in his throat and his eyes narrowed. God, but Jamie was gorgeous like that, like he was surrendering to Seb’s guidance. Seb took a couple of steps forward so he was up close, and they stared into each other’s eyes. Seb could feel Jamie’s breath on his cheek; he could feel the brush of a stray dark hair against his neck. “Let me,” he whispered again, and he lifted the cranberry up to Jamie’s mouth.

What the hell was he doing? Would Jamie slap his hand away? Seb genuinely scared himself for a second with his own, bold behavior. But this was what he wanted to do, wasn’t it? He wanted to touch Jamie, and not in anger, not in jest. Just… touch him. His heart was beating faster than usual; he felt a shiver of excitement through his body and, if he were honest, straight to his cock. This was what Jamie did to him, he realised. How wild was that?

He almost apologised: almost drew back. Then Jamie opened his mouth slightly and Seb—holding his breath, God knew why—slowly slid the berry between Jamie’s lips. Jamie let out a small, soft sigh.

Fuck
.

“Chew on it,” Seb almost whispered. “Get the flavor.” His fingers lingered on Jamie’s lips a little longer than they probably needed to guide a single, small berry on to Jamie’s tongue. Seb concentrated on it, as if a berry had never been so damned exciting, as if its path needed specialist guidance only he could give. Jamie’s mouth closed on it, biting into it, then he swallowed it down. Seb’s taste buds sparked, recalling the sharp, unusual taste as vividly as if he’d eaten it himself. When Jamie’s tongue flickered out to lick a drop of moisture from the edge of his upper lip, Seb sucked in an almost painful breath. “Good?”

“Yes,” Jamie murmured. “Very good.”

Seb dared to believe Jamie meant the touch, not just the cranberry. His fingers lingered at the edge of Jamie’s jaw, brushing lightly over the freshly shaved skin. It felt right, being this close. Seb felt the thrill he often had in anticipation of a new experience, even though the reality so rarely matched up. But this? This
was
real, and it was even better than he’d dreamed.

Jamie gazed back at Seb. His pupils were dilated. “You’ve never said anything like that to me before. About being creative. It’s not something I associate with me, you know. It’s more about
you
—the flair and charisma. That’s what
you
have, Seb, it’s all about what
you
are.” Jamie sounded different, he was speaking very quickly, as if he’d temporarily lost control of his speech. “You’re outrageous and argumentative, sure, but it’s so vibrant, it fascinates me. You’re good looking in a way that turns heads, too. I see your popularity, your humour, your ability to understand people and talk their language, whatever it is. All you want is to enjoy life, to do things to the full. Yes, I
am
jealous. Jealous I don’t attract that from you, that…”

“Passion?” Seb interrupted.

Jamie’s eyes went very wide and he looked shocked. “God, did I say all that aloud? What the hell am I doing?”

“Nothing. Everything. Hush, it’s okay.” The expression in Jamie’s eyes was shockingly vulnerable, yet greedy with need at the same time. Seb noticed his friend was still holding the wooden spoon in his hand, and rather too tightly, as well. “Good looking in a way that turns heads, you say?”

Jamie made a strangled sound. “For God’s sake, don’t mock.”

“Hush, I said.” Seb reached forward and plucked the spoon very deliberately out of Jamie’s hand, placing it back on the counter beside them. “I’m not mocking. I just reckoned it was
my
turn to tell it like it is.” He put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder and brushed his fingers along the other man’s neck. He didn’t think he’d ever touched Jamie like this before; with fear and confusion—with hope.
With desire
. “Are you saying I turn
your
head, Jamie?”

Behind him, the chutney started to bubble on the stove. Seb decided not to give Jamie the chance to reply, to protest it had all been a mistake. This was probably the most outrageous thing Seb had ever done, but he didn’t hesitate, couldn’t risk losing his nerve. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Jamie’s.

Jamie froze. But then, when Seb’s tongue nudged insistently at his lips, he opened them swiftly and hungrily, and to Seb’s delight, kissed back just as fiercely.
 

***
 

The temperature in the kitchen had increased by many degrees and not all of them were caused by the oven.

Jamie broke from the kiss and pressed Seb against the counter, until its edge must have dug painfully into his waist. Seb didn’t complain, though, or not so Jamie noticed. Seb had a smudge of cranberry chutney on his nose, and his breathing was much more shallow than earlier in the evening. They
both
were. When Seb lifted a hand to his nose, Jamie grasped his wrist, not harshly, but firmly enough.

“I’ll do that.” With his free hand, he wiped the chutney gently off Seb’s nose. Then he trailed his finger tips down Seb’s cheek, under his jaw and along the lines of his throat.

Seb groaned aloud, a soft growling sound in the back of his throat. His head went back, baring his neck, and he swallowed heavily.

Jamie dropped his hand, leaning in even closer. “What I’m saying… what I mean…”

“What?” Seb’s voice was just a whisper. “For fuck’s sake, say it.”

“I want
you
.” Jamie murmured directly into Seb’s ear, trying to breathe all the heat and sweet excitement he felt into the other man. In case he couldn’t find the right words—
better
words—he hoped his actions worked instead.

Seb bit back a gasp. His body shivered. “How long?”

Jamie watched the movement of Seb’s mouth; the drop of sweat on his upper lip. He thought he could watch it for hours. He’d never imagined quite how fascinating this bloody annoying, astonishing, sexually provocative man could be. He wanted to kiss him again, he knew that more surely than anything he’d ever known before. “What do you mean?”

“How long have you wanted me?”

Jamie smiled. That was a stupidly easy question, at least tonight it was, when his heart felt released, and his mouth eager to get back to more important things. “Since I met you. Forever. For too long. Have I said the wrong thing again?” He realised he didn’t care anymore. All he could do was be honest, to let himself be exposed. “We’ve never talked about these things, never stopped arguing long enough to discover an alternative way of communicating. Do you… are you angry with me?”