Stripped Bare (6 page)

Shane felt nonplussed. A prejudice against swearing seemed to be a thing with this man.

“My grandfather was a fisherman,” he muttered sulkily. “I used to go out on the boats with him and he swore like a trooper. I suppose it’s a habit I’ve picked up on.”

“Not a good one either. I’ve never quite understood why people feel the need to use profanity for everything. There are times and places for it.” Matthew’s tone was wry.

Shane felt as if he’d just been told off by his teacher. He looked at Matthew in disbelief. “Christ, you sound like my father might—if he were still around. You’re only, what, early thirties?”

“Thirty,” said Matthew. “I obviously look older than I am.”

Shane was embarrassed. “Hey, I didn’t mean you looked older. You just seem it. I think it’s that whole ‘control freak’ thing you have going on. I think you look just great anyway.” He grinned, feeling mischievous. “And that broken nose is very sexy. So is the whole designer stubble thing you have going on around your chin. Makes you look manly and rugged. “

Matthew raised an eyebrow, a gesture Shane found very sexy. His trousers felt tight all of a sudden.

“Control freak? Is that what you see when you look at me?” Matthew asked. Shane noticed he’d sidestepped the comments about his appearance.

Shane smiled slightly. “That and a really hot body. And I love your accent. It’s different.” His attempt at flirting seemed to pay off as Matthew’s face flushed even under the olive complexion of his skin. He ran a hand through his think, dark sable-coloured hair and Shane watched, mesmerised.

“I think this conversation just ended.” Matthew reached into his trouser pocket and took out a bunch of keys. “I need to go home, get some sleep. Can I drop you off, save you running anywhere?”

Shane nodded. “You can swing by the Baglione so I can pick up Bushwhacker. Then I’ll catch some shut-eye there—seeing as David paid for the room already—and then go home later today.”

“Bushwhacker?” Matthew looked perplexed. “Is that a dog?”

Shane grinned. “My trusty laptop. It’s a tool of my trade as an IT security consultant.” He used the term people were used to, not wanting to explain right now that he was actually a very qualified and notorious hacker. It was also how he’d managed to track down David’s home number. “I don’t go anywhere without him.”

“Him? Your bloody laptop has a gender
and
a name?” Matthew sounded flabbergasted.

Shane chuckled. “Careful, Matthew, language, mate. You’ve given
me
the lecture, best get your own house in order.” He winked at the other man. “By the way, you know my full name but I’m damned if I know yours. What is it?”

“Matthew Langer.”

Shane looked at him. “Is that a German surname? That must be the accent I can hear in your voice.”

The lawyer nodded. “Yes it is. I was born in Dresden, and I spend a lot of time there.”

Shane cocked an eyebrow at Matthew. “The English version would be ‘Longer’ if I remember my school German at all. Does that apply to anything else other than your surname, Mr. Langer?” He was getting a second wind despite the time and the fact he hadn’t slept. Matthew sighed and shook his head, moving out across to the parking lot. But Shane got the distinct impression he didn’t mind the flirting. He followed the man, taking time to admire his firm backside as he walked.
The man is definitely a bit of an enigma
, he thought.
One I wouldn’t mind getting to know better.

In the car Shane buckled up and sat back for the short ride to his hotel. He gazed around the car. It was immaculate, looking in almost showroom condition. Matthew started the engine and drove off. His hands were large, with long fingers and well-groomed nails. For the first time Shane noticed the thin gold band around his left ring finger. His heart lurched.

So the man was in a committed relationship.
That was something he hadn’t considered
.

“This car of yours looks as if it doesn’t get out much,” he remarked as he fiddled with the knobs and fixtures in the car. Matthew glanced at him.

“I don’t have the need to use it often, other than the occasional trip. Most of business has been in and round London. But I like having the option to have my own wheels.”

He changed gears expertly as he navigated the traffic. The roads were quiet since it was still so early. Rush hour hadn’t yet begun. “Do you have a car, Shane?”

Shane laughed. “God, no. I find the three T’s do me just fine: tube, train, and taxi. I live in St. James’s so I’m pretty central anyway. Where do you live?”

“I have a house in Chelsea.” Shane noticed Matthew gave nothing more away than what he was asked. He’d have to fish deeper, in a direct way—the only way he knew how.

“How does your husband feel about you being called out at all hours of the night to deal with that bastard Debussy?” He watched Matthew’s face. He wasn’t prepared for the look of sheer pain that made a fleeting appearance.

“I don’t have a husband.” Matthew’s tone was curt.

Shane felt uncomfortable. “Oh, I’m sorry. I saw your ring and thought…” his voice trailed off as Matthew’s incredible eyes caught his. He saw a flicker of raw grief in them and wanted to cut his tongue out.

“I’ll shut up now,” he muttered and sat back in the seat, watching the lights spin by and the cornucopia of activity that was London in the early hours of the morning come to life. Matthew drove in silence along the relatively quiet London streets.

“What are we going to do about David?” Shane blurted the words out suddenly, anxious to cut the uncomfortable silence. Matthew looked over at him with a slight trace of amusement.

“That didn’t last long, did it?” he said drily. But he smiled, and Shane thought he might have been forgiven for his earlier prying. The other man sighed.

“I’ll go see him tomorrow, see how he is.
If
I can get in. Walter might have given the nurses instructions to keep me away from him. But I’ll try.” He swung into the valet parking areas outside the Baglione Hotel.

“I want to go with you.” Shane opened the car door and got out. He leaned down and flicked a card onto the passenger seat. “Here’s my card. Give me a call before you head out tomorrow and we’ll go together. Strength in numbers and all that.” He looked at Matthew. “Have you got a business card?” he asked hopefully. “Just in case I hear anything first, I can call you.”

Matthew smiled and reached into his jacket pocket. He took out a small white card. “My mobile number’s on there. If you hear anything at all about David between now and tomorrow, let me know.”

Matthew looked at Shane’s card. “Carrington Knights? I could never afford to book one of their escorts. Pretty high class from what I hear.” He grinned, his face transforming into something that Shane thought might one day break his heart. “I guess I’m lucky to have one free of charge by my side.”

Matthew’s teasing tone made Shane’s dick stir in his trousers, where it had been on high alert ever since meeting the man. He’d have to do something about that when he got into the hotel bedroom. The friction and tight throbbing was unbearable. He swallowed, thinking about what he was going to do with himself while thinking of this man. “Are you flirting with me, Mr. Langer? Because if you are, I like it.”

He held Matthew’s gaze and the two men stared at each other for a moment. There was a definite current of electricity and Matthew’s eyes darkened as his lips parted, as if he was about to say something. Then the strident tones of a car horn bought them back to their senses and ruined the moment.

“Oi, you tosser!” came the exasperated shout from the taxi parked behind the Audi. “Get a bloody move on, will you?”

“I guess that’s your cue to move then,” Shane chuckled as he closed the door. He watched as Matthew looked back at the street, gunned the engine, and disappeared back out into the traffic.

Aftermath

Matthew got home close to six in the morning, and the first thing he did was go for a shower. He felt drained, both physically and emotionally over David, and dealing with the rather turbulent Shane Templar had taken the last of it out of him. He was dealing with him not only as a friend of David’s and a mutual enemy of Walter Debussy, but also as a man he was very attracted to. Matthew didn’t give himself lightly. He’d never been one for sleeping around, or being with a different man each week. Well, not unless you counted his total meltdown when Sam died and he’d also lost—he quickly checked himself.

No point in dwelling on
that
. That way only bought back deep, dark memories and a crushing sense of failure.

He’d had a couple of short-lived relationships, trying to assuage the ache of Sam’s loss, but they’d fizzled out as soon as soon as the other men realised he still hadn’t gotten over Sam. Now he found the occasional solace in one-night stands at the clubs when the pressure was on, or like he was going to do now, relieving the tension himself in his shower or in his bed.

He started the shower, shed his clothes and stepped under the hot, needle-like onslaught that washed over his aching shoulders. He turned his face up to the water, catching the droplets with his tongue, feeling the stress and strain of the evening soaking out of his face.

His left hand stroked his cock, slowly at first, then faster. His hand was slick with water as he increased both the pressure and the speed. He groaned, the sensations building up quickly.
It won’t take long
, he thought as he took a deep, shuddering breath. He’d been aroused the whole time he’d been with Shane, the man’s intense blue stare and obvious concern for him a real turn-on. Just the man’s touch on his skin had been enough to make him hard. It was a long time since anyone had seemed to care about Matthew that way. Not since Sam.

He closed his eyes as his imminent orgasm took over his thoughts, his mind conjuring up pictures of the naked Shane tied up on David’s hotel bed, and with a strangled gasp, he came, hot fluid arching up onto the shower wall, covering his hands with sticky semen that quickly washed down the drain.

He leaned his forehead against the cool tiles, his chest heaving.
God, that had been intense.
Matthew felt less stressed but still not completely satisfied. He felt almost cheated. He wanted the real thing. But that wasn’t going to happen. He should never have given the man his business card. Getting emotionally involved with someone now was not in the cards. It hurt too much when it all fell apart.

Back in David’s paid-for hotel room, Shane was doing much the same thing but with a lot more vigour. He was lying gasping on his back on top of a large bath towel spread on the Matelasse bedspread, the warm air from the open window caressing his naked skin, as he rode his dick with strong, sharp bursts of speed, the image of a naked Matthew Langer bending over in front of him, his tight backside inviting and ready to be fucked foremost in his mind.

“Christ al-fucking-mighty,” he moaned as all the muscles in his legs and backside tensed. Digging in his heels, his body lifted an inch from the bed as he climaxed, long jets of white fluid streaming over his hand and stomach, which clenched in pleasure at the sensations in his groin. He landed back on the bed, panting as he let his dick go, and his body relaxed on the bed. His chest was heaving with the exertion. He stared up at the ceiling in disbelief.

Hell, how had this man managed to do this to him?

Shane prided himself on his self-control, but tonight he just hadn’t been able to last more than five minutes.

He’d gone to the reception desk, picked up Bushwhacker and just made it into his hotel room before taking another pee, ripping his clothes off and falling naked onto the bed. He had, however, had the foresight to rip a towel off the rail to protect the bedspread. He didn’t think it fair that the housekeepers had to deal with his jissom all over their expensive duvet. Then he’d let rip and five minutes later he’d erupted like Old Faithful. Shane felt better. He needed a shower before climbing under the covers. He ponged like a well-worn rent boy. Tomorrow he’d need to test the waters, see if the flirting they’d started came to anything else. He was rather looking forward to that.

His phone rang later that day around one. He was already up, showered and dressed, and ready to leave to go home.

Matthew’s voice was strained. “Walter has made us
persona non grata
, I’m afraid. He’s given explicit instructions to let neither of us in, and he’s even got a personal bodyguard outside David’s room. So I’m afraid we won’t be seeing him any time soon. One good thing though: He’s regained consciousness and seems fine. That’s all I could get out of the nurse.”

Shane was relieved his friend was okay but disappointed that he wouldn’t be seeing Matthew today. “At least he’s all right. I suppose that’s it then. We’ll have to wait until he’s out and about to make contact with him.” He hesitated. “How are you? Did you manage to get a decent sleep?”

The lawyer sighed. “I slept enough. I need to spend this afternoon looking for another job. I’ll have some time as Walter still owes me quite a bit of money, but it won’t last long.” He stopped. “Sorry, that’s probably more information than you needed. It’s my problem, not yours.”

“Are you always this self-sufficient?” Shane asked. “I don’t mind if you share things.”

The line was quiet. “We don’t know each other that well,” was the soft reply. “I’m used to managing things on my own. But thanks anyway.”

Yes you are, and that’s half your problem, mate.

Shane took the plunge. “Do you want to get together for a beer or something sometime? I know a great little Dutch pub in Soho with a bit of atmosphere.”

Again there was silence. Shane stared at his mobile in frustration, wishing he could reach through and shake the man’s self-sustaining attitude out of him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m going to be pretty busy finding work and getting things sorted out.” Matthew sighed. “I’ve never been unemployed before. It’s a bit of a novelty and a bit scary. So I need to focus.”