Worth Keeping (30 page)

Please let him be there, please let him be there.

With a surge of relief, he saw the hunched figure outlined in the old-fashioned street lights at the end of the path turn to watch him as he drew nearer. Owen couldn’t have failed to hear him as he rushed toward him.

Seeing Owen’s surprised yet hopeful face, Nick dragged him into a tight hug, pressing kisses to Owen’s tear-stained white cheeks, never wanting to let him go. His lover felt more insubstantial that he’d been before, as if something inside was missing and Nick cursed himself for causing that pain.

“Please don’t go, Owen. I’m sorry. I was an arsehole. I’m didn’t want to make you cry, I never want to do that to you again.” Words tumbled out of his mouth like rocks jettisoned from a volcano. He found Owen’s mouth and attacked it with something close to cannibalism as Owen sighed, leaning into him, hands winding in his hair just the way he liked it. For a moment all Nick tasted was Owen’s mouth, minty and salty from tears. He smelt his sweat and familiar Hugo Boss cologne, felt his taut body fitting to his as if they were two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

Nick had forgotten how being close to Owen’s body chased away his demons. Finally he drew his lips off Owen’s, giving them both room to breathe.

“Please Owen. Grab that damn suitcase and come back up to the cottage with me.” Nick tugged at Owen’s hand hopefully.

Owen resisted, regarding him with pain filled eyes. “No. I told you once you can’t keep sending me away every time you get stressed. Why should I believe you’re not going to do it to me again? You can’t keep breaking my heart, Nick. I might love you but I’m not a damn patsy. I mean one minute you tell me you love me, and then you’re telling me to get out of your life and the next you’re asking me not to go.”

Nick reached over and cupped Owen’s face. “I watched you go and it was as if a part of me had been cut out. It hurt so much. You’re the only thing in my life that’s ever been able to make me whole. Even when I have my bad moods, you still make them better. I couldn’t lose that. I can never lose
you
.”

Owen was still, his smile sad. “I wish I could believe that. It’s all very well having a willing partner to help you forget things for a while, but I’m not a damn placebo, Nick. I’m not something you can take out when you have a bad day and then put back in the cupboard when you get tired or scared of it.” His voice cracked. “You said you didn’t need me. Well, maybe that’s true.”

Nick felt a tingle of fear. “No, Owen. Surely you don’t believe that.”

Owen was quiet, his eyes searching Nick’s face. His body language said he wasn’t convinced.

Nick desperately wanted Owen to understand how much he meant to him. “I stood there, looking at the closed door, knowing you were walking away and something snapped. I realised I was only happy when you’re with me, in my life. I couldn’t imagine a time when I wasn’t waking up to your snoring and that adorable twitch you do with your nose when you sleep. I want to hear you in the shower singing off-key when you’re trying to belt out those awful Abba songs.” He reached over, taking Owen’s cold, clammy hands in his. “I want to see you cooking with that stupid apron around your hips, feel your body next to mine when we go to sleep. I want it all. I need you, Owen. So much.”

Owen sighed, a soft, deep sound but still didn’t reach for his suitcase. Nick waited, holding his breath, not wanting to interrupt his thoughts. His heat pounded at the fact it might be too late to save them.

Owen smiled tremulously. “That’s what you keep saying, Nick. Then you rip my heart out of my chest all over again. I can’t keep doing this. Maybe it’s best that I go.” His tone was defeated and Owen’s eyes shone bright with tears in the glare of the streetlights.

Desperation seized Nick.

There was a way to show Owen he was serious about him. The best way he knew.

“Owen, I can prove what you mean to me. Come up the studio and I’ll show you. Baby, you have to believe me when I tell you I know I’m a selfish bastard. But I love you so much.” His voice broke and tears warmed his eyes.

Oh God, please don’t let me lose him.

All his insecurities and fears about his past melted like snow in sunshine at the thought that Owen might leave him alone. Owen sighed again and looked down at the wet cobblestones. His eyes flicked back up to Nick’s and when he spoke again Nick’s heart thumped in relief.

It’s going to be all right.

“I thought you liked hearing me sing ‘Dancing Queen’ in the shower.”

Nick chuckled at the faint hurt in Owen’s voice as he pulled Owen to him. Relief made him giddy. He ran his hands down Owen’s lean back, gripping the cheeks of his arse and pulling him up and into him as they ground against each other, their emotional and physical need for each other too deep to conceal.

Owen’s tongue mashed against his—hot, slick and needy. The small moans coming out of his mouth were such a turn-on that Nick wanted to rip his trousers off and plunge into his man, sink his cock into Owen’s tight channel until he cried out for mercy. He wanted Owen to ride his cock until both of them were spent and orgasmed out, their insides turned outside in and semen plastering them together like superglue. He wanted to own him heart and soul.

“Christ, I want to be inside you so badly, Owen. You have no idea,” Nick finally gasped when they came up for air.

Owen looked at him, his lips swollen and red, his gaze wondrous. “Inside me, Nick? But I thought...”

“So did I. But the way I feel right now, I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

“Hell.” Nick was blown away by the look of sheer lust and avarice on Owen’s face. He’d never seen that level of want for him in a man’s eyes before.

Nick licked his way along Owen’s jawline, up to his ear, biting the lobe then darting his wet tongue inside. “I want to fuck you so hard that you taste me in your mouth.”

Owen’s pupils were black in the dim light of the old lamplights and his body shivered. He gave a breathy sigh and melted against Nick, his hands reaching under Nick’s denim shirt to caress the supernova heated skin beneath. Nick hissed and shook his head.

“Not too much. I will come in my pants if you keep touching me and I don’t want that. Not when I have someone else to be that will be so much better.” He grinned wickedly as Owen shuddered, making a small yowling noise against Nick’s mouth. Nick drew back and extended a hand which Owen grasped tightly.

“Nick, I need to call Jeff, cancel the taxi.” Owen’s strangled voice bought Nick to his senses.

Nick stopped. “Shit, I’d forgotten that in all the makeup sex stuff. Okay, go ahead, give him a call. He’s probably on his way anyway.” He waited while Owen got through and began speaking then slyly palmed Owen’s crotch, gripping his balls tightly.

The heartfelt squeal Owen uttered was music to his ears. Owen glared at him as he spoke into the phone. “No, everything’s fine, it was just a bat flying past, it gave me a scare.” His voice grew indignant. “I am not a big girl’s blouse, you arsehole. Who the hell likes bats in their hair? I don’t need the taxi anymore, I’m sorry I wasted your time. I—oh my God—”

His voice deepened to a moan as Nick reached down the front of Owen’s now miraculously open jeans and drawn-down briefs and flicked the tip of Owen’s cock with his thumb. The item and its owner trembled in unison.

“Hurry up,” he mouthed at Owen as Nick knelt down on the cobbled path, ignoring the uncomfortable pitted surface and swiped his tongue along the first wet dewdrop of pre-come on Owen’s dick. Owen’s legs went boneless and Nick wrapped strong arms around Owen’s thighs, holding him in place.

“Jeff, I have to go,” Owen said in a strangled voice. “Oh fuck me...” Nick licked Owen from shaft to tip and Owen’s phone clattered to the ground from nerveless fingers.

“I doubt Jeff will take that as an invitation,” Nick murmured against Owen’s hot, slick erection. “At least I hope he doesn’t. But
I’ll
take it if it’s being offered.” He stood up, trailing his hands up Owen’s arms.

Owen reached down unsteadily and picked up his phone, muttering. “It had better not be bloody broken, Nick, or I’ll put you on rations.”

“No you won’t, you randy bugger. You can’t resist me. You love me.” Nick tugged Owen back to the cottage, his suitcase trailing pitifully behind him. The cottage awaited, all warm light and homeliness but Nick took the suitcase and left it by the front door. He took Owen’s hand.

“Come with me. I have something important to show you that you have to see first.”

He smiled at Owen’s frustrated look as he pulled him across green grass and pebbles up toward the dark recesses of the lighthouse. He paused at the door and looked behind him. Owen’s face was a picture of confusion and desire.

“Nick, what the hell are you doing? You promised me something special, now we’re going to the bloody studio? Can’t it wait—” His words were cut off as Nick took his mouth in a kiss that made his own head spin. When he finally released Owen, both men were having trouble breathing.

“I have to show you this. It’ll make it all clear, I promise. Just hold those dirty thoughts.”

Owen moaned softly but followed Nick in as he hastily unlocked the door and pulled Owen inside. Nick was as impatient as his eager lover to go back to the warmth of the bedroom, but first he needed to prove without any doubt just how much Owen meant to him. He walked over to the canvas currently covered with a large cloth and stood in front of it. Nick felt a surge of apprehension at what he was about to show Owen.

This had been a true labour of love for him.

Nick swallowed. “This is what’s been keeping me up nights. I hope you like it. I was going to give it to you as a present now it’s done.”

Owen’s eyes watched his hands as Nick pulled the linen cover off the canvas. He stood, holding his breath when Owen gasped and moved closer to the picture.

Nick was proud of this work. He’d started it as a pencil sketch, and then realised creating in oils it would elevate the subject to something miraculous, something vibrant and alive like the man himself.

Owen’s face stared out at him from the canvas, emerald eyes knowing and wise under charcoal-black, windswept hair, lips curved in a smile and cheekbones that could have cut glass. Nick had struggled to get the hue of Owen’s skin just right, that pale, creamy delectable colour that took his breath away and made him want to stroke it. There was warmth in Owen’s skin, a tint that told of the living, breathing man beneath. The painting looked as if at any moment it would come to life. Nick knew this was one of his best works but that was no surprise to him seeing as his beloved Owen was the subject. Seeing the picture again made him realise just how much he needed this man in his life.

Nick stood uncertainly as Owen stood in front of his own face, his body still, his hand half raised as if to touch his own visage but seeming unsure. Nick shuffled behind Owen, hopping from one foot to another in desperation for Owen to say something, anything.

“Um. Is that a good silence, or a bad one? It’s taken me damn ages to get your skin tone right; you have such a unique colour. And your eyes were tough to capture too, just the right shade of green, like tourmaline but with more brilliance. And your hair colour, that particular hue of blue black, I had to combine so many colours together to get it perfect—” He swallowed his words as Owen turned to him and Nick lost his breath at the sheen of tears in Owen’s eyes, those eyes that had taken him weeks to replicate in living oils.

“Christ, Nick, shut up. Although I have to say that is the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me. I have eyes brighter than fucking tourmaline?” His voice was awed. He moved closer to Nick, his lips trembling, and passionately pressed them against Nick’s eager and waiting lips. “You are so damn brilliant, Nick. That painting is incredible. I can’t believe you painted me.” His hands slid into Nick’s shirt.

Nick moaned at the heat of Owen’s fingers on his skin as Owen murmured, “You drive me bloody crazy. I never know where I am with you but I do know I never want to be without you.”

“Hell, Owen,” Nick groaned as he ground his hips against Owen’s. “I want you so much. I need you. Forget what I said in the house. I’d go mad if you weren’t here.”

Owen chuckled against Nick’s skin as he licked the pulse that throbbed in his throat. Nick drew a deep breath. He’d had got his man back but how did he make things up to him? Owen must have seen the uncertain look on his face as he drew his face up to watch Nick.

“Nick, it’s all right. Don’t look so damn lost.” His hands caressed Nick’s cheek softly.

Nick swallowed. “Damn, Owen, I went from Jekyll to Hyde earlier in the space of a few minutes. I don’t know how you can stand to put up with my mood swings, I—” His words were cut off by the soft press of Owen’s lips against his. He sighed, melting into his lover, feeling Owen’s breath against his ear.

“Don’t fuss about it. I’m here. And I seem to recall you making an offer that I couldn’t refuse. Were you serious about that or was it a heat of the moment ‘I just want get you back’ thing?”

Nick lost his breath remembering his offer to fuck Owen until he could taste him. His hands shook slightly. “I still mean it. I just need you so badly, Owen and all I could think about was being inside you, feeling your body around my dick and God, the thought of it was so good.” He groaned. “I am still so damn hard at the thought, and I think maybe this time...” His voice trailed off.

Owen took his hand. “Let’s get going while the mood’s still there. My arse is definitely in a state of anticipation.” His eyes sparkled as he gazed around the studio. “I want to do you right here. I’ve never made love in a lighthouse before.” He reached down and picked up the cover on the ground, placing it reverently over the painting of himself. “But I don’t want me watching. That would be too damn weird.”

Nick chuckled huskily then huffed in surprise as Owen turned and slammed him up against the wall. The cold, rough, whitewashed surface scraped Nick’s back but all he could smell was Owen’s scent and see the expression of sheer lust on his face.