Crash Pad (7 page)

Every point of contact sizzled: the smooth chest pressed to Jamie’s back, the calescent mouth kissing his nape, the muscular forearm wrapping his waist.

Sizzle…

“Feels so good,” Jamie whispered.

Remy licked his shoulder, fingers trailing the underside of Jamie’s cock in a soothing caress. Jamie trembled. This was how it should be, a pleasurable give and take. No pain, no pounding until tears ran down his face. It was good. It was perfect.

Remy’s fingers closed around Jamie’s cock, grip warm and sure. Firm sliding down, soft sliding up, and that unique twist beneath the head that sent exquisite jolts of heat surging up Jamie’s spine. Sparks must be showering between them.

Every pump on Jamie’s cock, every thrust inside him, fed the inferno. If this kept up, Jamie’s nervous system would ignite with pleasure. Remy needed to know how sweet this was, but all Jamie could get out was, “Remy…”

“I’ve got you.”

Kisses rained down on Jamie’s neck as Remy moved faster, deep strokes that pegged his prostate, wringing a near sob from him. Much more and he’d be reduced to ashes. He teetered on the edge.

“Come for me, Jamie.”

Jamie didn’t want to come yet, didn’t want this to end. But the multitude of sensations made it impossible to hold back.

Heat raced through Jamie like the blinding rays of a sun, melting him from the inside out. Crying out, he came in liquid pulses. After a few more hard strokes Remy buried a yell against Jamie’s shoulder and forced himself deep, shaking with his release. For a time they lay panting, breath gradually settling to normal.

“You are amazing,” Remy whispered. Soothing kisses landed on Jamie’s neck.

In spite of himself, Jamie smiled. No one had ever said stuff like that to him.

Remy pulled free and nudged his face, captured his lips for a sweet kiss. “Be right back.”

Jamie’s eyes popped open. “Where are you going?”

“To get a towel. Stay put.” Remy slid away and headed for the bathroom. Jamie buried his face in the pillow, huddling on the bed. Was he about to be left alone again?

Water ran, and Remy returned. “Hey. Turn over.”

With a warm wet cloth, he wiped Jamie clean with gentle strokes and crawled up next to him. Wrapping an arm around Jamie’s waist, Remy pulled him in and kissed his nape, spooning his back. Gradually, Remy’s breathing became slow and deep, mesmerizing.

Maybe he could have something with Remy.

How many times have I thought that about a guy and had it fall apart?
It hadn’t been that long ago that Jamie had promised himself he’d quit seeing stars every time a guy liked him. This time he’d stay independent and take care of himself.

Jamie stared across the room, at the bars of late-afternoon sunlight breaking through the blinds. What had he done?

Of all the stupid things
… He’d promised Sarah he wouldn’t make a mistake, and he’d committed a big one. Screwing around with Remy, no matter what he’d said, no matter how hot he was—or how nice he was—couldn’t have a good outcome. This went beyond the usual host-guest relationship, and Jamie didn’t want to give the impression he’d trade sex for a place to stay. Remy had wanted it too, but not in a take-advantage-of-Jamie kind of way. He couldn’t see Remy acting like that. It had been tender.

Plus, Remy hadn’t left him shivering in bed and gone to take a shower alone, like Vince would have done. Remy had taken charge but hadn’t been rough, hadn’t inflicted pain to get off. No mounting and shoving inside. A shiver ran through him. No, nothing like Vince.

Behind him, Remy gave a soft snore, and his arm tightened around Jamie’s waist. Taking a deep centering breath, Jamie focused on relaxing. He’d rest for now. Deal with the fallout later. He closed his eyes and gave in to unconsciousness.

* * * *

Nu-nuh nu-nuh nu-nuh nu-nuh, Batman…

The theme song broke into Jamie’s sleep. He rolled over—the bed behind him was empty and cold. No Remy. Jamie’s phone rang again, and he glanced at the number, hit the button.

“Hey, Baron.”

“Hey.” His old boss’s deep voice rumbled through the phone. “How’s it hanging?”

“Um, good. How’s business?”

“Brisk. Since you left, we’re swamped. New clients and old clients clamoring for your return.”

“It’s nice to be missed.” Jamie could picture his former coworkers in the break room, eating healthy snacks between clients, everyone dressed in the loose tops and pants Baron used as uniforms.

“Actually, that’s why I’m calling.” Pause. “I need you back.”

Very tempting. Getting his old job back would solve a multitude of problems, including Remy. Jamie sighed. “I can’t come back, Baron. You know why I moved.”

“What’ll it take? A restraining order? Because you know I’ll help. And if it’s money—”

“No and no. He hasn’t made contact. At this point, I don’t think he will. And I’m…settling in.”
Yeah, breaking my ankle, staying with a gorgeous doctor, and sleeping with him.

Movement in the doorway caught his attention. Remy stood there holding a tray laden with food. Pale blue boxers hung low on his hips. He mouthed “sorry” and backed up. Jamie motioned him forward.

“Aw, Jamie, help a guy out,” Baron said.

“Sorry. If I change my mind, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Here’s hoping. In the meantime, take care.”

“You too. Thanks for calling.”

“You bet. Bye.”

“Bye.” Jamie flipped the phone shut and smiled at Remy.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just a social call.”

“Thought you might be hungry.”

Jamie looked over the contents of the tray. Unbelievable. Grapes, whole wheat crackers, cheese. Hummus. Bottled water and white linen napkins. Vince would have cut off his own hand before he would have waited on Jamie. His heart gave a little squeeze in his chest.

“I left the wine off because of the pain pills. And I don’t drink during training.” Remy settled the tray between them and crawled up on the middle of the bed.

“You didn’t have to do this.”

Warmth shown in Remy’s blue-gray eyes as he smiled. “Ah, but I want to do this.”

Jamie nodded. Remy wanted to take care of him. But why?

Chapter Seven

Remy steered toward home at dusk with a load of groceries. The last few days had been some of the best of his life. Jamie had finally relaxed into a routine, and they now shared Remy’s bed. Brett had given up bugging Remy about meeting the blind-date guy and had retreated in a snit. Sometime this week Remy would bribe him with a fancy-schmancy coffee, and they could talk.

Remy turned onto his road. The sun had dropped behind the mountains, leaving a few salmon-colored streaks in the sky and taking most of the evening warmth with it. Streetlights flickered to life, casting pools of illumination on the sidewalks. The neighborhood kids had retreated inside. A distant roll of thunder warned of a spring shower.

As he approached the driveway, he noted a strange vehicle parked by the curb. Not just any car—a Mercedes.
Huh
. The grocery shopping had taken him less than an hour and he hadn’t planned on dinner guests. A romantic dinner for two, then asking Jamie to stay beyond the time he required crutches. If necessary, Remy would use the excuse of letting Jamie’s sister off the hook tomorrow. If things progressed as he hoped, extend their temporary arrangement into something more long-term.

He parked, pulled the groceries from the trunk, made his way to the side entrance, and tried the knob. Unlocked. Anxiety crept up his spine. He’d locked it when he left. Juggling the bags, he pushed open the door and stepped into the kitchen. Voices came from the living room. Remy set the bags on the counter. What was going on?

Listening in wouldn’t be the way to build trust, but it was his house, and apparently the visitor was someone Jamie knew. Remy headed for the doorway, then paused and tapped a finger on his thigh. This didn’t sound like pleasant company.

“…not going back.” Jamie’s voice vibrated with tension. “It’s over.”

Was this an ex-boyfriend? A spark of jealousy flared to life in Remy’s stomach.

“That guy meant nothing to me.” A rough bass, commanding tone. “You belong at home.”

“I don’t belong to you, and that’s not my home.” There was a little more steel in Jamie’s reply. “This isn’t your house, and you’re not welcome here.”

“Shacking up already, huh?” said the deep voice. “Guess it’s better than some guy at that fleabag motel, you whore.”

“We’re done.” Jamie’s tone left no room for interpretation. “Get out.”

Enough, damn it
. Remy strode into the living room. And froze.
Fuck
. “Vince?”

The swarthy man’s brow wrinkled and then smoothed out. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Doctor Remington Marshall, pansy ER doctor. I’ll be damned.”

Of all the bastards on the planet. His father’s favorite protégé. Hell, his father’s surrogate son, after Remy had come out. Unlike Remy, Vince had gone into orthopedics and emulated his mentor in every way—or so Remy had thought.

Vince—homophobic asshole Vince—was gay. Talk about irony. Vince must have hidden his orientation well, because no way would Rosgood Marshall III put up with a gay man as his successor. Remy’s pulse pounded. “You know him, Jamie?”
You were
with
him? This colossal shithead?

“You better fucking believe it.” Vince sneered. “Right, Jay?”

“It’s over.” Jamie glared at Vince. “He barged his way in here. I didn’t invite him, and he’s not welcome.”

That was obvious. Jamie looked mad enough to beat Vince with the crutches. Remy turned his attention to Vince. “What are you doing here?”

“Collecting
a friend
.” Vince glowered at Jamie. “The orthopedic clinic needs him.”

“I can deal with him, Remy.” Jamie stood straight on his crutches and pulled out his cellphone. “Get out, Vince, before I call the police.”

Vince advanced on Jamie. “I’m taking you home.”

Jamie took an awkward step back on his crutches, juggling the phone against the handgrip. “I’m not going with you.”

“You little—”

“Jamie’s made his decision.” Remy eased toward Vince. “Leave.”

Vince snorted. “What are you? The ho-mo-sex-you-al crusader?”

This from a guy who was too deep in the closet to find his ass with his own hands? Time to take out the trash. Remy dropped his arms to his sides, balanced on his toes. “You were just going, weren’t you?”

“With him.” Vince nodded at Jamie.

“No way. I’d rather die.”

Remy shot a look at Jamie. What the hell had happened between them?

“Get over here, Jamie.” Vince gave a cruel smile. “Don’t make me punish you.”

Jamie’s sharp intake of breath told Remy everything he needed to know. “Out. Now.”

Vince strode forward, reached for Jamie.

Remy gripped Vince’s forearm, yanked, and ducked. Vince flipped and landed on his back. The air went out of the big man like a squashed inner tube. Staring down at the bully, Remy prepared for another attack. “Get up, and get out of my house.”

Vince got to his feet and dusted himself off. He glared past Remy’s shoulder at Jamie. “I’ll go. But this isn’t over, Jay.”

Jamie lifted his chin and squared his shoulders. In a firm tone he said, “It
is
over. Permanently.”

Remy narrowed his eyes and followed Vince to the door. After the other man had exited, he flipped the dead bolt and faced Jamie. “You okay?”

Jamie’s lips pressed together, and he scowled. “Fine. I can take care of myself.” He wobbled on his crutches and started down the hall. “You had no right to interfere.”

Interfere?
Dumbfounded, Remy stared and followed his houseguest. What had just happened? “Hey. I know him. He’s a bully. I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

“I had it under control. I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, Remy.” Ice coated the words. Jamie disappeared into the guest room.

What…the…fuck
. He’d left for an hour to get groceries, and everything went to hell in a handbasket. None of this made any sense. Remy headed for the guest room. Jamie had his duffel on the bed, throwing in toiletries and clothes.
Shit
. A stone formed in Remy’s chest and sank to his stomach. “You used to be with him?”

“It was finished before I moved here.” Another shirt went into the duffle.

Vince was such a beast.
Fuck. Jamie’s nightmare
. A cold chill ran down Remy’s back. “Did he hurt you?”

Jamie’s ice-cold gaze said it all.

Aw, man
. No wonder Jamie had run. “Where are you going?”

The glare warned Remy back. “To the motel, not that it’s any of your business.”

Fisting his hands, Remy glared back. “I thought you
were
my business. I thought—”
I thought we had something together
. “I thought we were at least friends.”

“Fucking you doesn’t mean I belong to you,” Jamie shot back.

Okay, lots of undeclared baggage in that statement. “I don’t think you—forget it.” Fighting would get him nowhere. Maybe some space and time to cool off… But what if Vince was waiting at the motel? “I’ll drive you.”

“No. I’ll call a cab.”

“Jamie—”

“Back off, Remy.”

Fucking A
. He gritted his teeth. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Putting away the groceries he wouldn’t be fixing. So much for a romantic dinner for two.

* * * *

Three days.

Jamie stared at the rain running down the front window. A gray day. A perfect match to his mood. He’d left Remy’s house seventy-two hours ago and spent the last seventy of those being miserable. Talk about overreacting.

“Time to change your ice pack.” Sarah picked up the soggy bag by one corner and gently settled a frozen one over Jamie’s ankle. The swelling had receded, and the hue had deepened to violet and eggplant with a touch of burgundy.
Beautiful.

“Honey, why don’t you call him?” Sarah plopped on the sofa bed next to him. “You know you want to.”

“It wasn’t working out.” Sarah didn’t need to know about Vince, and Remy’s ride-to-the-rescue scenario. Why couldn’t a guy take charge in the bedroom and treat Jamie like an equal outside it? Not that Remy had tried to dominate Jamie between the sheets. Remy shouldn’t have butted in, even if he did know Vince. It was Jamie’s battle. He sighed. Once again, he’d chosen a pushy doctor.