Handle With Care (17 page)

Ollie grinned and thrust his hips forward while leaning his upper body back, still balancing his espresso cup on the saucer. The rich aroma teased my nostrils, and underlying that, the scent of Ollie, sweet, dark and earthy.

148

“You could always come and help me,” he said.

“I wouldn’t be much use.”

“You’re strong enough to hold a paintbrush, aren’t you? You could probably do most of the window frames while sitting down.”

“I don’t know the first thing about decorating,” I admitted. Ollie gave me a disbelieving look. “I mean, I’m good at choosing the colours, but I’ve always got someone in to do all the work.”

“Any excuse to get a sexy workman round, right?”

“Oh, yeah, any excuse.”

“Hi, I’m here to paint your bedroom.” Ollie imitated the hammy delivery of one of our favourite budget porn actors. “Oh, no, for some bizarre and unexplained reason, I’m wearing my best clothes. Mind if I take them off?”

I sniggered. “Go ahead. No complaints here.” I hooked a finger into the waistband of his boxers and ran it across his belly.

Ollie squirmed. “Get off! I’m meant to be meeting a man with a coffee machine to sell. He didn’t sound like the type who’d be too happy if I rolled in late and stinking of sex. Probably end up sticking an extra hundred on the asking price.”

I pouted a little but stepped back as Ollie finished his coffee.

“So you really can’t decorate?” he asked, looking absurdly pleased with himself.

“No. Never tried.”

“Excellent. Then I’m going to be able to teach you how to wield a paintbrush and roller. You can do all the boring flat stuff, and I’ll have time to do the fancy bits over the top.”

I groaned. “I have work to do.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Thought you were meant to be taking it easy for the next few weeks.”

“Well, yeah. So no decorating. It’ll be too strenuous.”

“It’ll be good exercise. You can do it instead of letting me thrash you on the Wii.”

He had me there, and he knew it. I gave a theatrical sigh.

“All right, all right. I’ll let you teach me how to decorate. Happy?”

Ollie grinned. “I’ll be even happier if you come with me to see this bloke about the coffee machine. Reckon I’ll get a better deal with some backup. He might take me more seriously than if I rock up there on my skateboard.”

I wondered exactly why it was I’d been worried about dominating Ollie. If anything, it felt like he was in the driver’s seat of our relationship. Funny thing was, I enjoyed giving up the control, and he seemed to like taking it.

I tossed him my car keys on the way out. “You can drive us. I’m going to save my energy for lifting that paintbrush later.”

“Are you serious?” Ollie’s eyes shone. “You’ll let me drive the MG? Can we have the top down?”

“It’s not that warm yet,” I warned, but he kept jumping on his toes like an overexcited puppy. “Oh, all right. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when your hair gets flattened in the breeze.”

“Yes!” Ollie punched the air and bounded out the front door. I followed at a more sedate pace, pulling a hat and scarf from the stand by the door.

“What am I going to do with him?” I asked Nightcrawler as I took my front door keys from his hand. “He’s like an overexcited puppy.”

Nightcrawler just leered back. I had a feeling I knew exactly what he’d do with young Ollie.

Exactly the thing that I wanted to do with him.

150

“Finished all the chairs!” I called out over the blaring Green Day album before falling back onto the flagstone floor with sheer exhaustion. Ollie bounced back into the main room, and I wondered again how it was possible for one man to contain so much raw energy. More to the point, I wondered how it was possible to get covered in that much paint. There I was, almost pristine in my old dialysis clothes, now relegated to decorating clothes, whereas Ollie was a rainbow of paint flecks and smears. And he’d only been painting the gents.

“Nice one!” Ollie said, grinning at the painted furniture. “That all looks brilliant. This place is gonna be amazing by the end of the week.”

I sat up and panned my gaze around the room. It was fronted by a wide expanse of windows, framed in the same soft grey-green I’d just finished painting all the furniture. The room was long and narrow, but even with the counter filling up half the back wall, there was still room for a row of the previously mismatched tables and chairs to take advantage of the view. Down the other end of the room, Ollie planned to set up his kids’ area and had already purchased some heavy-duty beanbags and a crate of second-hand toys. With some outdoor tables and chairs for the smokers or those catching a rare bit of British sunshine, he had the potential to seat twenty paying customers.

God knew how he was planning to cope with that many at once—more if people wanted takeaways. His cousin had agreed to help out on Saturdays and school holidays, but he’d be on his own all week during term time. I had this horrible feeling I was going to end up doing something crazy like offering to help Ollie out myself, and I didn’t do sociable. Not anymore. Never had, really.

The only way I got through my clubbing days was with a skinful of beer or chemicals sending their toxic courage through my system.

Ollie settled down behind me with his legs stretched out on either side. I could feel his warm breath on my earlobe and the mingled scent of sweat and chocolate wove its way around me. The sunlight falling over our legs was dappled by the fluttering leaves of the birch trees outside, and the happy shouts of kids playing sounded in the distance.

Ollie’s arms wrapped around me, and euphoria dissolved through my body.

Not the dizzying chemical rush of my youth but a slower, more stable happiness.

“Wotcha thinking?” Ollie murmured before kissing my neck.

“I want to help you,” I said. “I want to help out. Lunchtimes, or whenever your busiest time is. I could take a few hours out of my day, at least until I go back to the office full time. Get some exercise. See you.” There, it was too late to take it back.

Ollie was quiet for a long time. He wasn’t trying to think of a way to let me down gently, was he? Maybe he didn’t want me hanging around here. Maybe he thought I was too old and too grumpy to be any use with the customers.

“Do you really mean that?” Ollie asked.

“Of course I do,” I snapped. “Wouldn’t have offered otherwise, would I?”

“No need to get all defensive. I just, I didn’t have you down as the barista type. Thought you’d rather incinerate your porn collection than make tea and clean up after sticky-fingered children.”

“Are you saying I’m unnaturally attached to my porn?”

Ollie laughed against my neck, and it tickled.

“I’m just saying you surprised me, that’s all. Anyway, I love surprises.”

“So is that a yes?”

152

“’Course it is, you daft sod. Why on earth would I turn you down? I’m gonna need all the help I can get for this place to work, seeing as how I’m just a dumb houseboy.” Ollie’s tone was teasing, but his words sliced me up inside.

I twisted round to look at him. “Don’t talk crap! I mean,” I added, seeing the wounded look in his eyes, “look at everything you’ve done with this place. That takes vision. That takes determination and hard work.”

Ollie gave a secretive smile.

“What?”

“I’ve got another vision.”

“Oh yeah?” I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to know, but there was this stirring in my guts that prompted me.

“Yeah. I could draw you a picture if you like.” Ollie’s hand snaked down and covered the bulge at my crotch. “I’ve gotta warn you, I’m determined to get what I want, even if it is
hard work
.” He emphasised the last two words with strokes to my cock, making it twitch and swell in response.

Shit, I wanted him. Not here, though. “Stop, someone might see.” I didn’t sound all that convinced, I’ve got to say, but as there had been passersby peering in through the windows all morning, I didn’t want to risk it.

My dick begged to differ, standing to attention and demanding Ollie’s touch.

I swear, that thing had a mind of its own.

“I’ve got an idea. Hold that thought.” Ollie pressed my own hand down over my erection, and I kept it there in a rather halfhearted effort at concealment, enjoying the press of my palm against needy flesh.

Ollie stood up and moved away, heading over to the pile of equipment he’d had delivered.

“What are you up to?” I demanded, seeing him lift one of the plastic-wrapped beanbags down from the stack of boxes.

“You’ll see.” Ollie grinned and chucked the beanbag behind the counter. I heard it land with a whisper of polystyrene beads. Then he hefted another box onto the counter. “This needs to go here anyway.”

I watched, bemused, as Ollie built a wall of boxes along the countertop.

“Come on. I’ve built a secret love nest back here. We need to give it a trial run.”

“I’ve still got a week to go. You know, until—”

“C’mon, Ben. Live a little.”

Further protest dried up in my throat. Ollie looked so fucking sexy, leaning against the counter with his eyes like saucers and his hips thrust forward. I rose to my feet and tottered over on wobbly legs, Ollie’s smile drawing me in like a lure.

I went to kiss him, but he dodged me.

“Uh-uh. I want you sitting on that. No arguments. You’ve done a lot today, and you need some rest and relaxation.” He indicated the beanbag, still wrapped in cellophane but looking surprisingly inviting. I settled down on it with the wall supporting my back. The beads hissed around me and the surface was slippery, but I was able to get comfy.

“This beanbag’s great.”

“Yeah, I forked out a bit for two new ones, since I’m gonna be sleeping on them.”

“You’re what?”

Ollie fixed me with a level gaze. “I’ve got to get out of Meera and Omar’s before the baby comes, and I haven’t had any other offers of a place to stay.”

“So you’d rather bed down on a beanbag in a cold shop?”

“I’d rather bed down with you.”

154

He had me there. I gazed into his eyes, searching for even a trace of manipulation, but all I saw was honest desire. I thought about the prospect of falling asleep beside Ollie, of breathing in the scent of his skin, and of waking up beside him every morning. It was terrifying, but I wanted it.

“What are you frightened of?” Ollie asked. “You get this look in your eyes every time I suggest any kind of commitment.”

He didn’t seem pissed off—more sad than anything else. I hated seeing him like that, so I took a deep breath and gathered up the tattered rags of my courage.

“I’m scared that you’ll get sick of me. You’ll see me at my worst and you won’t want me anymore. I don’t know if I’ll be able to cope if you leave me after I’ve got used to having you around all the time.”

Ollie gave a sad smile and stroked my cheek. “Why would you think that? I think you’re amazing.”

“I’m not amazing. Far from it.” I looked down at my hands. He’d been honest with me, and I deserved to give him the full picture of the man he wanted to hitch his fortunes to, warts and all. “I fucked up my health taking drugs, and the last guy I hooked up with died because of me.”

“That’s bullshit. Zoe told me it wasn’t your fault.”

“Zoe told you about that?” I wanted to be angry at them talking about me behind my back, but instead, I was simply relieved that he didn’t seem to blame me. Maybe I could finally let go of some of the guilt I’d been clinging on to. “You know I used to be a complete arsehole, then. I just used blokes for sex. I didn’t care who they were.”

Ollie’s eyes still gazed on me with understanding. “You were just letting off steam after being responsible for Zoe all those years. It was only to be expected.”

“Honestly, I’ve no idea what you see in me.”

His smile quirked into mischief. “You want me to give you a list?”

“It might help.”

“Okay, then, you’re funny and kind and patient, and I’ve never met anyone less arrogant in my life. You’re this incredibly hot and sexy bear of a man, but you don’t seem to know it.” I flushed at that one and was going to interrupt, but Ollie put a finger to my lips and carried on. “You’re a fantastic lover, and you take the time to make me feel incredible. You encourage me to get on and do something with my life. And the way you look at me…” Ollie looked down at the ground with a strange expression, but when he raised his gaze, his eyes were shining. “You make me feel special.”

“You are special.” What was I, nuts? How could I force the man I loved into sleeping on a beanbag in a cold café every night? “Ollie, will you move in with me?”

“You really mean it?”

“I mean it.” I’m sure my face must have registered as much shock as his. I hadn’t been expecting to make that offer, but the moment I did, I knew it was what I wanted more than anything else.

“I’d fucking love to!” Ollie climbed onto my lap and kissed me enthusiastically, and the celebratory mood must have been infectious because before I realised what was happening, he had my trackie bottoms pooled around my ankles and my cock in his hand.

“We can’t! What if someone sees?”

He gave me a tolerant smile. “No one’s gonna see anything. What d’you think those boxes are for?”

I looked up at the wall he’d built and realised for the first time how private this space was. “Did you lock the door?”

156

“Stop trying to distract me,” Ollie murmured as he bent over me. I put my hand out to stop him. “Yes! I locked the bloody door. Now, are you going to let me give you this blowjob or not, coz I’ve been waiting for-fucking-ever and I really, really want to do this. Please, Ben.” His voice went as soft as the expression in his eyes, and I let go of his shoulder. Let him do what he wanted.

What I wanted.

The first touch of his tongue to my half-hard dick set my skin ablaze. I yelped, but a few more licks and kisses soon had me so rigid I ached. With one hand wrapped around me and applying a gentle pressure, Ollie ducked down farther and lapped my balls. A deep groan vibrated through me, and I screwed my eyes shut in embarrassment. Sounded way too pathetic and needy. Mind you, it had been, what, about a month since I’d last come? I hadn’t even had a wet dream yet. Jesus, that must be some kind of record—not just for me but for any man. Especially for one with such an extensive library of masturbatory aids.