Designs of Desire Read online

  “Harder. More, damn it,” James demanded.

  Trembling against the bedding, fists tightly gripping the sheets, James barely managed to keep himself from screaming as he begged for this night, and Seth’s exquisite torture of his body, to never end.

  “Not gonna last,” he gasped out. Desperate to have Seth come with him, he tightened his muscles and gripped the invading cock. A moment later Seth slammed into him and held still as he roared his release. James cried out as he felt the throbbing inside him. It pushed him over the edge, painting their chests and stomachs with his hot seed. Seth collapsed on top of him and clutched James as though he might float away. They shook together, calming and breathing until they could think and move again.

  After an indeterminate amount of time, Seth slipped from his body, eliciting a disappointed groan from James. “Don’t move,” Seth said softly. He then padded quietly to the ensuite bathroom and returned with a warm washcloth. He gently cleaned James’s chest, abdomen, cock, then bottom before he tossed the cloth toward the door and climbed back into the bed with him. Seth reached out, rolled James to his side facing away, and curled up behind him, spooning as he stroked James’s hair softly.

  “You are the most amazing man, James,” Seth said as James wiggled backward, settling more firmly into the crook of Seth’s body.

  James tried to focus his thoughts through the euphoria of everything they had done together, but before he could speak, Seth spoke. “Don’t. I can feel you tensing, James. Rest here with me and when you wake up, you can worry about clothes and propriety. For right now, you’re mine and I don’t intend to sleep alone. Now, go to sleep, baby. The morning will be here soon enough.”

  Sated, warm, and feeling oddly safe, James did just that.

  Chapter 4

  AS HE rolled over, James was immediately reminded of his activities the night before. Sore? Yes, but in the most delicious of ways. Seth had woken him twice, leaving him filled and satisfied in ways he’d never felt, hadn’t even dreamt of before. Every thought of the commanding and passionate ways Seth had taken him made James shiver.

  Cracking one eye open, he expected to see Seth beside him, but what he found was an empty spot. When he touched the sheets he realized they were cold. Seth had been gone a while. Bitter disappointment settled over him as he thought about what it meant to awake alone in a cold bed.

  “Knew he was too good to be true,” he grumbled. His mood and outlook on the day soured, and it wasn’t even eight yet.

  James tried to go back to sleep but Seth’s scent surrounded him, teased his senses, and reminded him of how stupid and easy he’d been. Seth got what he wanted, why bother sticking around? At least his aches were from something pleasant rather than what he’d experienced with Victor. Shutting down that train of thought, he decided to get out of bed and try to start his day. He’d just forget about last night and pretend it didn’t happen. He would not lose his job or this account over what, it seemed, meant nothing to Seth.

  After a long, hot shower, James dressed in jeans and a simple T-shirt. He ignored his reflection, which showed the vivid proof of his activities the night before, not wanting to dwell on his being alone again. Foregoing any footwear, he maneuvered with his worn, paint-splattered crutches, the ones he used when painting, to the kitchen. He decided he would eat something and then put his pain and disappointment into his art instead of sitting around brooding all day. Might as well use my stupidity for something, right?

  He grabbed a glass of juice, but startled when he entered the breakfast nook and saw Seth standing on the patio with his back to him, a takeout coffee cup in hand, as he looked out over the woods behind the little stone cottage. His shirt billowed slightly behind his body and pulled across his powerful shoulders. The slacks he wore sat low on his hips, as if they might not be fully zipped and buttoned in front. As the breeze kicked up, James couldn’t help but catch glimpses of Seth’s firmly muscled back, making his mouth water even as he warred with himself over thoughts of his previous assumption.

  He couldn’t help but stare. He’d been so sure Seth had used and discarded him. The urge to rush over, touch him, make sure he wasn’t some apparition instead of the most beautiful man he’d ever met welled up inside him.

  James must have made some sound, because Seth turned, a gentle smile on his lips. “Good morning, pet,” he said as he entered the nook to join James. “Since you’re awake now, I’ll make you breakfast. What would you like in your omelet?”

  “You’re still here,” he blurted. He felt like an idiot and wished he could take it back as soon as the words left his mouth.

  “Of course, James. Where else would I be?” Seth said with a chuckle that settled deep in his soul. “Now, toppings?”

  “Mushrooms, bell peppers, and cheese?” He thought he had bought some of each yesterday, though his memories prior to Seth’s arrival were a little muddy. “But, you don’t need to cook. I can do that.”

  “I know you can, that’s not an issue. I want to pamper you. Now, sit down,” Seth said in a tone of command that shot straight to his cock. Why does that tone make me want him so bad?

  James found himself doing as ordered, and sat at the bar so he could watch Seth move around his open kitchen like he owned it. “I picked up a few things when I went out earlier, you didn’t have everything I wanted,” Seth explained as he chopped and sautéed the veggies before adding them to the omelets.

  “Set the table, pet. I’m almost done.”

  Again, James found himself doing as told. He hadn’t realized it wasn’t a request but yet another command until he was done. Seth brought out two plates with fluffy, overstuffed egg white omelets and fresh fruit. “I can’t stay all day as I would like to, but I wanted to take care of you a little before I have to go.”

  “I understand, thank you. This is delicious,” James said, curious about where Seth had to go on a Sunday. He tried not to let it bother him, especially since he hadn’t expected to even have this time with Seth, not after waking alone. He wished this could be a real, normal relationship, like healthy people got to have, though.

  “I’ll also have the movers stop by tomorrow after you get home to pick up the paintings we discussed last night,” Seth explained. “I still need to settle on prices with you, but I disagree with what you quoted. I know it’s a Sunday but I’ll have Mel stop by today to have them appraised both for price and insurance so you don’t have to worry about it and work schedules. Do you have plans later? I need to let Mel know when to come over.”

  Feeling suddenly indignant, James replied, “The prices I quoted you are more than fair, Seth. These aren’t knockoff prints or something. I know I’m not famous or something but—”

  “Enough,” Seth said in such a tone as not only stopped him from speaking, but made him pull back suddenly. He hadn’t meant to upset or insult Seth, but his art was his life and soul. He had thought Seth understood.

  “Do you think I was arguing that you were trying to charge me too much?” The tone and way Seth held himself left James mute and fearful that he might not be as gentle a person as he had thought. All he managed was a nod, scared that anything he said would be wrong somehow. He knew that dance; it had landed him on the floor, against the wall, even in ICU once.

  “I,” he managed to squeak out.

  Suddenly Seth was beside James, stroking his hair as he pulled James’s head against his abdomen. “Shh… baby. You’re okay. That’s not why I want Mel to come over. He’s a lawyer, but his wife runs a gallery in town. I think you’re underpricing your work, not overpricing.

  “Here.” Picking up James’s abandoned fork, he scooped up a small bite and fed it to James. “You need to eat. You’re too skinny.” He continued to feed James until the plate was finished. He stood so he was over James, gently sheltering him with his body. James was baffled by the gesture and by Seth’s overall attitude and behavior. He also wondered why he was being fed.

  Once breakfast was over, Seth let James h
elp with the clean up. That was the best way he could describe it, as being allowed to help. No one ever helped at home, not like that. He had bought the cottage after he’d had Victor removed from his old apartment the last time, so it was his and his alone. Chase picked up after himself when he was over and had helped clean for the past couple of days, but even that had been a first. He was so confused but could not help but acquiesce to Seth’s demands and instructions.

  “Do you really have to go?” James found himself asking as he dried and put away the last dish. He didn’t want their bubble in time to burst, didn’t want to lose the contentment and joy he had found in Seth’s arms, even though he knew Seth would never settle for someone like him for long. It was a pleasant fantasy he wasn’t ready to give up.

  “I do, and as much as I hate to do it this way, I will be gone for about two weeks. My plane leaves this evening so I must go for now. Mel and Brittany will stop over this afternoon about the art. I hope to have it in its new home before I return.

  “Look at me,” he commanded, as he noted James’s down-turned face. “I will call you this week and we can talk some. When I get back, I want us to go out somewhere nice. I will let you know when I decide where that will be. Also, you will work with Sandy while I’m gone. I hate the timing but it is what it is.

  “Now, give me a kiss and walk me out, baby,” he said. Heat flashed in his eyes as he pulled James against him and took possession of his mouth in a bruising, nearly violent kiss that made James think, once he could again, that maybe, just maybe, Seth really would come back and pick things up with him.

  He stood on the front porch and watched Seth leave. He finally got to see his personal car, and what a car. It was a brand-new metallic-moonlight-blue Audi A7. As Seth drove away, James noticed the license plate, which read PROUD.

  JAMES tried to focus on sketching but jumped at every car that passed, nervous about meeting Seth’s friends, especially alone. He was also worried about Brittany, Mel’s wife, since Seth had said she ran a gallery. What if she hated his work? Victor had said it wouldn’t sell well, that it wasn’t good enough, and he’d nearly given up painting. But, considering how Seth had looked at the pieces he’d chosen, maybe Vic had been wrong about that too. He tried to squash the anticipation he felt, not wanting to get his hopes up again.

  By late afternoon, he’d fallen into his work and lost himself completely in it until his doorbell startled him back to reality. He quickly put his tools down and hurried to answer it, and realized he was speckled almost as much as his crutches as he opened the door.

  A petite brunette in a short black slip dress and what had to be five-inch heels stood next to a nice-looking older blond man. He was dressed more casually, though no less expensively. The man held his hand out and said, “You’re James, right? I’m Mel, Mel Holcomb, and this is my wife, Brittany. Seth said you were expecting us.” James quickly shook both their hands before inviting them in.

  “Sorry I’m such a mess, I guess I got kinda distracted in the studio,” James said as looked down at himself again.

  Brittany laughed. “You’re an artist, dear. I’d be concerned if you weren’t covered in your preferred medium, which I see is a mix of oil and acrylics,” she added, as she looked at his hands and hair carefully.

  “Well, er, yes, it is in this case. I needed the different mediums for what I’m working on. Can I get you a drink or anything?” he continued as he led them through the great room, pausing at the entrance to the kitchen. They both declined, so he led them on to his studio.

  “It’s a little bit of a mess over near the window-wall, but the works Seth said he wanted are over here.” He led them to the other side of the room where the pieces were still set up. He had re-hung the tarp to separate the area and to protect against any possible damage to the completed pieces.

  She waved him off, wandered through his artwork, and stopped to look at each as she sized them up. When she got to the most recent, the one Seth wanted most, she stopped and gasped. “Mel, is this it? The one Seth gave special instructions for? Please say it’s not because I want it,” she said emphatically.

  “Ma’am, that one is special and the primary painting he requested. It’s already been bought, even if we haven’t agreed on the price, yet,” James explained before Mel had a chance to reply.

  “Britt, you know full well that’s the one he wants, and you won’t win a bid war with Seth. Hell, no one wins against him. Ever. Now, be good and tell the nice man that he’s undercharging like Seth said, then you can try to buy from him if you want,” Mel said, and struggled to not laugh. He mostly succeeded.

  With the prettiest pout James had ever seen on an adult, she turned to face him. “He’s right. Seth told me what you asked for each of the pieces and I could get at least ten times that at the gallery, especially if they were featured in our next auction or show. Okay, so maybe that’s a conservative estimate. Still, if you’re this good, why aren’t you in at least one gallery? Say, mine?” she said, eyes wide.

  They spent the next hour or so discussing and debating what he had already promised to Seth and her desire for him to show at her gallery. By the time they left, he had a check for what he considered a ridiculous amount signed by Mel as Seth’s attorney, and a consignment contract for six other paintings. He also had the schedule for the moving specialists that would be by to collect the paintings and deliver them for Brittany and Seth.

  He couldn’t believe what had happened and so, as always, he called Chase.

  JAMES heard from Seth Monday evening. The call was short and mostly to check and make sure the transfer went as planned. By Friday, having not heard from him again, James started to doubt Seth’s sincerity of their one night being a start for them. He knew he sounded like a whiny teen girl wondering why some boy didn’t call the morning after, but he couldn’t help it. Seth was the first man to really turn his head in years, the first to show any interest, well, for more than a quickie, which he always turned down flat. He would rather be alone than used, though that was how he was starting to feel again.

  Friday, as they got ready to leave the office, Chase cornered him. “Come on, I can’t stand to see you moping around like this. We’re going out and have some fun.”

  “You know I don’t like bars, Chase. I got knocked down last time we went out by some stupid drunk,” James said as he attempted to escape, but knew it was futile even as he spoke. Chase had never learned the word “no.”

  An hour later, they were seated at a small corner table at Chase’s favorite gay bar, with a snifter full of brandy, and tried not to be in the way. That only lasted until trouble walked in the door. Victor spotted them about the same time James saw him. He tried not to cringe, but the panic was hard to fight. Every time he saw Victor, the “accident” ran through his mind in excruciatingly painful detail, both what caused the wreck and the aftermath.

  He grabbed Chase’s arm and squeezed as he ground out, “Go. I’ve got to leave, Chase.”

  But before he could do more than get to his feet with his crutches, Victor was at their table, his thick finger jabbing James’s chest. “You never were worth a damn and even now, all you are is a waste. What the hell did you say to that Seth guy, Jay? You cost me my spot on the crew, damn you!” Victor yelled, and drew the attention of a few people, including one of the bouncers. Unfortunately for James, his panicked squeak pushed Victor over the already precarious edge he rode, and with a crack, the world went black. He faintly remembered pain, he thought in his face and chest, but the black waters dragged him under too fast to be certain.

  BEEP Beep Beep

  God, what is that infernal noise? James wondered as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. It hurt to open his eyes, and when he did, he wished he hadn’t. Hospital, he thought and groaned.

  “Shh… Jamie,” he heard Chase whisper. A soothing hand rubbed lightly up and down one arm. “I know you hate these places but you’re safe.”

  James heard something click next to
him just before a disembodied female voice asked what they needed. The next little while was a blur as nurses and a doctor came in, poked at his ribs, and asked questions he either didn’t know how or didn’t have the focus to answer. He was so thankful Chase was there, because his mind was useless right then.

  Finally things died down and a cop in uniform came in, and asked, “James Bryant, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Officer Holmes. I’ve gotten the statements from your friend as well as a bouncer, a bartender, and a few patrons of the bar you were in, but I need to know what you remember,” the cop said, his voice gentle. “I hate having to ask so soon. I know you hurt. I’ve had my ribs cracked a time or two, but—”

  “It’s okay,” he said, cutting off the cop’s babbled apology. He then told what he remembered, which wasn’t much.

  Once he was finished, Chase added, “James has a protection order against Victor already. This isn’t the first time he’s attacked Jamie. You have to do something!”

  “Calm down, sir. We have Mr. d’Leone in custody and with the witnesses and hospital report, it’s a pretty clear case of felony battery.” They spoke for a few more minutes, but the cop finally left, leaving Chase alone in the ER room with James.

  “Jamie, I need you to think about something, and before you start, no, I don’t think you’re a cripple or any such stupidity,” Chase said with a snort. “But, you can’t use your crutches for a few days. Besides the cracked ribs, look at your arm.” James did as instructed and examined the arm Chase motioned toward. He must have tried to block either Vic’s punches or kicks, because his right arm was swollen and discolored. He feared to see what his heavily bandaged hands looked like. He was sure once the painkillers wore off, it would hurt like a mother.