Page 30 of Leather and Longing (Island Tales #3)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Paul finished drying the dishes to the strains of a Bach cantata drifting through from the library. He smiled to himself. When Adam listened to classical music, it was usually an indication he was in a good mood.

Not that Paul was surprised, after the day they’d had. He tried to ignore the tiny part of him that kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It’s not gonna be like before. He’s come through all that shit. He’s getting his life back.

Slowly, maybe, but at least Adam’s feet were on the right path.

“When you’re done, can you come into the library?”

Paul nearly leaped out of his skin. “Bloody hell.” He dropped a mug, which caught on the sink on its way down and shattered, shards of porcelain flying all over the place.

Adam stood in the doorway, his eyebrows arched. “Did I startle you? Sorry, I didn’t think I’d been that quiet.” He spoke in a calm, level voice.

Paul opened the cupboard under the sink and stretched to reach the dustpan and brush. “No, it’s my fault. I was lost in my own little world.”

Adam smiled. “I hope it was a nice world, at least.”

He looked up from his task of sweeping the remains of the mug into the pan. “You said you want me in the library?”

Adam nodded. “No hurry. It can wait until you bring some coffee through.” He smiled and left Paul to it.

Paul paused and stared at the open doorway.

What now?

He hoped to God Adam wasn’t about to say something to spoil the way he was feeling right then. Because at that moment, Paul really liked his boss. Post-depression Adam was shaping up to be a nice guy. Someone who sent Paul’s heartbeat racing and his cock filling.

Someone who made him feel good about himself.

Relax. You said it yourself. He’s in a good mood. So that means no surprises.

He poured out two mugs of coffee and took them into the library.

Adam was stretched out on the couch, relaxed, his glasses off, eyes closed.

The cantata was coming to an end, and as the last notes rang out, he smiled.

“That was lovely.” He sat upright and held out his hand for the coffee. “Come sit down. I need to talk to you.”

Paul joined him on the couch, acutely aware of the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach, in spite of having eaten less than an hour previously. “Am I in trouble?”

Adam shook his head. “No, not at all. I felt we needed to set some things straight.” He adjusted his position so he was facing Paul.

“You and I are going to talk about sex.” He spoke as if they were going to discuss the weather, or something as mundane as a shopping list. Paul wasn’t sure how to react, but he got the idea Adam had given this a lot of thought. He waited for him to continue.

“I like sex. Actually, that’s something of an understatement. I like a lot of it, and I also like to think I’m good at it.”

Paul chuckled. “I have no argument with that last statement whatsoever.”

Adam grinned. “Well, that’s good to know.” He paused. “So if I were to assume you’re happy for us to continue having sex…” His words trailed off.

Paul tried not to splutter his coffee everywhere. “Uh, yes, that’s a fair assumption.”

Adam smiled. “Good. I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. I know as your employer, this might be seen as unprofessional?—”

Paul snorted. “Like it doesn’t happen.”

“Exactly.” Adam beamed. “But I had to put it out there. The last thing I want is for there to be any misunderstanding, say, for example, a few months down the line for you to claim you were coerced, or that you agreed to this out of fear of losing your job.”

What the fuck?

“As if I’d do that.” Paul couldn’t believe he was hearing this.

Adam’s hand sought his, and he laced their fingers. “Please, I’m not suggesting for a second you would,” Adam assured him. “This is for my own peace of mind.” He paused to take a drink of coffee. After a moment he raised his chin. “I’ve offended you.”

The expression of utter mortification on Adam’s face went more to pacifying Paul than Adam’s words. “No, I get it.” He paused. “I just wasn’t expecting to have ‘the sex talk’. Go on.” Now Adam had got started, Paul was intrigued to hear where this was going.

“I’m going to be honest here. I’ve missed sex. If it were up to me, we’d be fucking every day,” Adam said bluntly. “So this next bit is important. If I’m horny and you’re not, you say so, okay? And vice versa, of course. I will never force you.”

Paul couldn’t have imagined this conversation taking place a week before.

Adam had indeed come a long way.

“Can I remind you of my age?” Paul said with a smile. “Do you think me not being horny is a likely situation?”

Adam laughed. “I wasn’t going to judge, but now you mention it…” They both chuckled. Paul liked that Adam still had hold of his hand. “I’m going to make another assumption now, based on our conversation of this afternoon.”

“Okay.” Paul knew what was coming.

“Do you want me to help you explore some of the elements you witnessed at that club? Maybe to replay those scenes you liked?”

Silence.

Paul swallowed past the stone that seemed to have lodged itself in his throat. “Yes.” It was more of a croak than anything else.

Adam nodded slowly. “I thought that might be the case. That’s fine, Paul. I would be happy to do that.”

Paul was overcome by a momentary sensation of giddiness. Emotions tumbled and collided within him: gratitude, fear, apprehension and one that soared above all of them—anticipation.

“I do have one stipulation, however.”

Paul stilled. “Yes?”

“ You choose the elements.”

He laughed. “That’s like letting a little kid loose in a sweet shop. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Then might I suggest my boxes as a starting point? Take a look at their contents, see if any of it ticks your boxes. Maybe do a little research online. I’m open to any suggestions.

” Adam smiled. “You won’t be the only one having fun, you know.

” Then his smile faltered. “But remember, there might be some activities I’d find more of a… challenge.”

Paul swallowed. “Understood.” He waited for Adam’s next words, anticipating what they’d be.

This is just sex, all right? This is the two of us assuring our mutual needs are met. No romantic entanglements, no guilt, just a sexual relationship with no strings.

His stomach clenched. He was already way past the point of thinking of Adam in a purely physical sense. But if that’s how he wants it… What choice did Paul have, but to go along with it?

Except all Adam did was drink his coffee, Paul’s hand still in his.

The words never came.

Paul didn’t know what to make of it.

“What about… sleeping arrangements?” he asked.

Adam smiled. “I have no objection to you sharing my bed now and again. The thought of waking up with a warm body next to me is extremely appealing. Having said that, I don’t think it should be an every night occurrence.

We spend our days together: I wouldn’t want us to be forever in each other’s pockets.

” He relaxed against the cushions. “That’s everything, I think. Does that all sound acceptable?”

Acceptable? I’m going to be having sex with my gorgeous boss on a regular basis, share his bed, explore my kinkier side… What is there not to like?

He smiled. “Yes, that’s fine.”

Adam let go of Paul’s hand, reached over the arm of the couch, and picked up a CD. “What’s this one?” he asked Paul.

“Tchaikovsky. I’ll put it on.”

Paul’s head was still spinning.

This is a dream, right?

Adam drew his long legs up under him, making himself comfortable.

“Want me to leave you alone?” Paul asked. The music poured out of the speakers, washing over him.

“Only if you want to.” Adam’s smile was still evident.

That was the problem.

Paul wanted to stay, for as long as Adam would let him.

Paul stood at his bedroom door, listening to the faint swell of Tchaikovsky drifting up the stairs. He’d left Adam curled on the sofa, that small smile still softening his face.

God, he wanted to go back downstairs. The invitation had been there, hadn’t it? The warmth of Adam’s hand still lingered in his, the steady assurance of his voice.

I have no objection to you sharing my bed now and again.

That wasn’t a rejection. It was as close to an offer as Adam knew how to give.

So why am I hesitating?

Because beneath the blunt talk about sex and boxes of toys and rules of consent, something had shifted. Adam hadn’t slapped down that boundary of just sex, nothing more . He’d left it unsaid, hanging between them like a thread.

And Paul didn’t know what that meant.

He pressed his forehead to the doorframe, groaning softly.

If he climbed into Adam’s bed tonight, it wouldn’t be just sex for him.

It hadn’t been for a while now. Adam’s laughter, his stubborn pride, even his black moods—they’d burrowed under Paul’s skin.

Sharing a bed would be more than warmth and release.

It would feel like belonging.

But Adam hadn’t asked for that.

Adam isn’t ready for that.

Paul shut the door firmly behind him. He stripped off his shirt and sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. His body ached with want, but it was tangled with something deeper, something messier.

It’s better to wait, to let Adam set the pace, to let him decide what lines can be crossed.

Paul could live with frustration. He could live with longing. What he couldn’t live with was spooking Adam into retreating behind his walls again.

He lay down in the dark, listening to the music faintly echo through the house. Adam was alone.

But is that what Adam truly wants?

Adam pushed the sheet off his warm body. He could have blamed his insomnia on the heat, but he knew that wasn’t the case. He couldn’t drive the conversation with Paul from his mind.

As soon as he’d caught the hitch in Paul’s breathing when Adam had steered the talk around to BDSM, he knew that was what Paul had wanted. As if the overheard phone call hadn’t already made it obvious.

The fact Adam was sleeping alone only reinforced what his mind was already telling him.

Paul was all about the kink.

Adam knew he’d done the right thing in keeping the conversation so matter-of-fact. The faint hope had swelled within him that afternoon, when he’d sat there, locked in a moment of intimacy, his fingers gently tracing Paul’s features….

He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want a lover. He wants a Dom.

The thought stopped him dead in his tracks. It hadn’t occurred to Adam up until that moment that he wanted a lover. The Adam Kent he’d been didn’t have lovers —he’d had submissives. Hook-ups.

Was I too clinical? Did I make it sound like one of my contracts?

In all his years in the BDSM community, Adam had never once fallen for a submissive. He’d prided himself on his ability to keep his heart locked up safe.

Heaviness spread through him, pulsed through him in a slow, relentless tide.

I’ve never fallen for anyone.

When had there been time for romance? When had he ever made time for romance? Certainly not in the military. And not in the years he’d spent crewing boats. At the club he’d been Master Adam, the tough son of a bitch who…

Who’s never been in love.

Fuck, he was so weary of keeping things cool, detached, unemotional.

He could’ve told Paul there wouldn’t be any romantic entanglement. He could’ve said they’d be nothing but fuck buddies.

But I didn’t.

Adam didn’t want to treat Paul like a sub.

He didn’t want to go into this whole situation with the aim of not involving his heart.

I want it to be more than just sex.

What bothered him was that right then he had no idea what Paul wanted.