Page 10 of Steal My Heart
Stripping off his clothes, he sighed and willed himself not to think of Brian, but it was impossible. By the time hestepped under the hot water, his cock pointed north. At first he tried to ignore it, but when he closed his eyes, he could almost feel Brian in there with him, his rough hands running over Hilliard’s chest and down his belly before callused fingers wrapped around his cock, tugging just the way he liked. Damn, that felt good. He moaned softly, reaching for the soap. He slicked his hand, still imagining Brian’s, and slowly stroked himself, the water running over him, heating his skin, adding to the sensation, which grew more intense with each stroke. Fuck, he could almost feel Brian right behind him, his chest pressed to Hilliard’s back, the impressive cock he’d caught hints of in his work clothes pressed to Hilliard’s ass, strong arms holding him upright as he continued stroking, sending Hilliard flying on wings of delight until he could take it no more. His leg bounced as pressure built inside until his breath hitched and he tumbled into sweet release.
The water continued flowing over him as Hilliard breathed deeply, letting his mind return to the present. Then, with a soft sigh, he returned to his lonely reality. Hilliard grabbed the soap and began the mundane task of scrubbing off all the damned paint, leaving his skin red when he was done.
Once he was showered and dried, he wrapped the towel around his waist and checked out front. Brian was just loading up two black trash bags before climbing into the truck. Hilliard stepped away from the window so Brian wouldn’t see him watching and went to the closet and looked through the hangers to try to figure out what to wear.
HILLIARD WOULDnever tell anyone, but it took three outfit changes before he looked the way he thought he should. He wanted to look good, but he didn’t want to seem like he was trying too hard. He wasn’t sure if this was a date, a meet-my-family sort of thing. More likely it was just dinner. He didn’twant to seem like a schlub either way, but he didn’t want to dress like he was going on a date, because what if Brian didn’t feel that way? And who had a dinner date with their grandmother there? Hilliard was going in circles and needed to stop his mind from short-circuiting completely. In the end he settled for tan slacks and a blue-, green-, and white-striped polo shirt.
Brian had given him the address, so he walked the three blocks toward the ocean and one block over to the obviously well-cared-for light green house with white trim. The garden was immaculate, filled with flowers in an array of colors that took his breath away. As he approached the door, the dogs went nuts inside, and Brian appeared. For a second he wondered if Brian had been watching for him.
“Knock it off. You know him. He isn’t here to eat you.” Brian opened the screen door, and both dogs hurried out, barking until he knelt down. Then they went nuts, winding around him in a dance for attention. They practically jumped over each other to get to him, and Hilliard made sure to pet them both. “Let him come inside,” Brian said, and he stood, the dogs hurrying back through the door. Hilliard followed, handing Brian the bottle of wine he’d had in the house. He hoped it was good.
“Thanks for having me over. I was starting to get tired of my own cooking.” He smiled as Brian closed the door after him, and got a whiff of his earthy scent as he passed by. “Cleveland is many things, but there’s a vibrant restaurant scene.”
“There are a few decent restaurants in town and some more in the area, but you have to pick and choose. The Mack House here in town is good—”
“Especially their chicken, but it doesn’t hold a candle to mine.” A frail-looking woman came into the room and stopped to hold the door frame. “But then, not much does.”
“Gran, if this is too much…,” Brian said.
“Nonsense.” She smiled and instantly seemed much younger. “I don’t get to cook much, and I needed to pass on my secret to someone before I check out for the last time.” She made her way up to Hilliard. “I’m Beverly, and you must be Hilliard. I’ve already heard things about you.” She looked him over. “Ruth was right—you are hunky.”
Hilliard blushed. “Thank you?”
Beverly waved her hand. “Don’t play humble with me. You know you turn heads. Heck, if I were a few decades younger….”
“Well that’s sweet of you, but I tend to flow in a different direction. Still, I bet you turned heads too.”
“Enough of your sweet talk.” Beverly sat down in what Hilliard assumed was her chair.
“Gran, what about the rest of dinner?” Brian hurried into the kitchen. Hilliard figured he needed to stay out of his way.
“Everything is fine,” Beverly said, but Brian seemed to have a different opinion as he checked the things on the stove, turning down burners as well as the oven.
“No, it wasn’t,” he said gently before returning to the living room. “All the burners were on full, and everything would have scorched.” He sat next to her.
“I finished the chicken,” Beverly said with much less force than she had before. Brian patted her hand and nodded as the last of her energy seemed to leave her and she closed her eyes. Brian grabbed a blanket that rested on the arm of the sofa and spread it over her. Then he tilted his head toward the kitchen, and Hilliard joined him, with the dogs following, their nails clicking on the floor.
“I’m sorry. I should have known this would be too much for her.” Brian opened the refrigerator and handed Hilliard a beer before checking on dinner once more. “She got everything together, but I think standing at the stove wore her out.”
“Will she be okay?” Hilliard asked, his gaze going to where she rested.
“Yes. Gran catnaps a lot. Dinner is going to be a few minutes yet, so I’ll just let her rest. She was determined to make dinner herself.” He lowered his gaze, and Hilliard tried to figure out why. “She appreciates that you’re helping me.” He leaned closer. “And I think this is Gran’s way of feeling you out.”
“Huh?” Hilliard said. “I don’t get it.”
Brian hesitated, and Hilliard knew from his legal training that it was best just to give people time and not push them to talk to you. Brian grew more nervous by the second and then shook his head. “This is probably a really bad idea.”
Hilliard could feel Brian pulling away, locking whatever he wanted to say back behind the walls he had put up in order to protect himself. Not that Hilliard blamed him. If he had been through what Brian had, he’d have walls the size of Everest. “What?” he asked softly. “You’re leaving me a little in the dark here.”
“He means that I’m a pushy old broad,” Beverly said from the other room, not sounding the least bit tired. “And that I wanted to invite you over to see if you were interested in my grandson.” Clearly someone had been playing their own version of possum.
“I see.” He turned back to Brian. “Why didn’t you just ask?”
Brian rolled his eyes. “How exactly do I phrase that question? You’re a lawyer, and I’m an ex-con hoping to clear his name. So do I say something like, ‘Hey, I think you’re handsome, but I’ve been to prison for burglary. You wanna get busy or something?’”
Hilliard snorted. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re kind of bad at this sort of thing? How about something like….” He set his beer on the counter and moved closer to Brian, watching him swallow but feeling the heat build between them the closer hegot. He looked into Brian’s eyes. “I think you’re hot and thought you might feel the same way about me. So if you’re inclined, maybe we could have dinner and go to a movie or something.”
Brian snorted. “Are we teenagers now?”