Page 38 of Leather and Longing (Island Tales #3)

In bed Paul was responsive, intuitive and eager, unafraid to push his boundaries. His sexual appetite showed every sign of being as rampant as Adam’s. Fuck, he was twenty-five , with the capacity to come several times a day, and he sucked cock like a dream.

Adam loved that. He only hoped Paul was getting as much out of the situation as he was.

It was as he pulled the T-shirt over his head that a cynical thought crossed his mind.

Of course Paul’s getting a lot out of this.

Think about it. He’s living in a beautiful house above Steephill Cove, when he could still be living in Binstead.

Adam was well acquainted with the island—he’d grown up there, after all—and he knew what Binstead was like: mostly council housing, impoverished in places—in other words, nothing remotely like Steephill.

Adam pushed the thought aside. He knew that wasn’t Paul’s motive for applying for the job.

Where did that come from?

He smoothed down his hair with his hand. It still took some getting used to, after having his long hair for so many months. He preferred it short and neat.

Not that he was about to tell Paul that.

Adam stepped into his jeans and pulled them over his hips, his mind distracted by the previous moment of cynicism.

That isn’t like me.

Adam was not a cynical man by nature. He associated such a trait with a whole slew of negative emotions, none of which had been prevalent in his life before diagnosis.

But in the months that followed losing his vision, he’d often found himself ensnared in a vicious circle of frustration, scepticism, anxiety and doubt.

Each day had been worse than the one before.

It was as if he was descending a spiral staircase into depression, and with each step the darkness increased around him until he arrived at the bottom.

Inky blackness surrounded him. Nowhere else to go but up.

Yet above him was all the shit, pain and anguish he’d passed through on the way down. He couldn’t go through all that again.

So why am I thinking this way?

It was a moment of discordance in an otherwise positive morning. Such cynicism was beneath him. Why would he doubt Paul’s motives, after everything the young man had done for him?

Because it all feels too good to be true?

That brought him up short.

Paul isn’t like the others. He’s nothing like that lazy shit, Dean. Paul works hard.

But the more independent Adam became, the less Paul would have to do.

Adam sat on the bed, his stomach roiling, breathing deeply.

It was as if some self-destructive part of him couldn’t bear to be happy and was leaking pus into his soul, seeping from a partially healed wound, spreading its corruption.

He clenched his hands into fists, as though this would stop the venomous flow, and forced himself to think about the two of them the previous night.

Paul’s reactions had been honest, even raw. Adam had been honest, too, when he’d shared his liking for sex. If Paul hadn’t wanted them to continue having sex, he could always have declined.

He’s a horny twenty-five-year-old whose boss wants to have sex with him on a regular basis. That was like giving a kid the keys to the sweet shop Paul had mentioned. And to cap it all, Paul had shown a fascination for BDSM and lo and behold, said boss turns out to be a Dom.

It worked out perfectly for him, didn’t it?

Adam’s heartbeat raced, panic clawing at this throat. He put his head in his hands, elbows on his knees.

I need to stop this, now.

He’d realised it wasn’t going to be easy—one didn’t sink as far as he had, simply to throw off the layers in one swift action—but he’d really thought he was past this.

It was never going to be that easy, coming back up into the light.

Adam took a deep, cleansing breath. It had taken Paul’s arrival to show him the way out, to make him realize he need not climb the staircase, he had only to find the door that was hidden from him, obscured by the overwhelming sense of loss that had permeated his life.

Paul had brought something vital into his life, something Adam had let slip away from him, in the belief that it could never be his again.

Hope.

“Coffee’s made,” Paul said from the doorway. “And—” His voice broke off. “Adam, are you all right?”

Adam swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. “I’m fine.” He prided himself that there was only the tiniest trace of a crack in his voice. “I think I need some this morning.” He gave a half smile.

“You sure you’re okay?” Paul’s voice softened. “I know this is huge, dealing with all these changes, but you can do this. And I’ll be there with you.” Adam heard genuine warmth. “Don’t worry, yeah?”

That hand around his heart unclenched. Paul had guessed incorrectly, but there was no doubting his intent: he sensed something was wrong.

“Just having a bad moment.” Adam gave a shrug. “It’ll pass.”

“Well, I’m sure this will make your day,” Paul said with a snicker. “Dean can’t come today.” There was a pause. “He’s busy.”

Adam gave a hiccup and promptly burst out laughing. “You were right,” he said, grinning. “I needed a laugh.” He struggled to regain his composure. “Did His Majesty give any indication of when he would be less busy?” The nerve of that jerk.

“Apparently, tomorrow morning,” Paul told him.

Adam groaned. “Great. That’s all I need to spoil my birthday—a visit from Dean.”

There followed a moment of silence. “It’s your birthday tomorrow?”

Shit .

Adam had hoped to let it pass without fanfare. “It’s just a day,” he said. “Leave it.”

Paul chuckled. “Yeah, right, like I’m gonna do that.” Another pause. “Will Mrs. Lambton be visiting, too?”

“Not if I can help it,” Adam growled. When Paul laughed hard, Adam let out a sigh.

“It’s been great these last few weeks, not having her coming here all the time.

Maybe she finally took the hint that everything was fine and she didn’t need to keep checking up on me, now you’re here.

I shouldn’t be like this, I know, but it’s not like we were ever close.

She was fifteen when I was born. I was the annoying, bratty little brother. ”

Paul smothered a snort. “No. Really? I don’t believe that for one minute.”

Adam stared in his direction. “You might need to work on your delivery, because you were this far from sincerity.” He held thumb and forefinger slightly apart, a distance of no more than the thickness of a cigarette paper.

His belly chose that moment to grumble. Adam groused when Paul laughed yet again.

“Of course I’m hungry. I was rather active last night, remember? ” He lifted his eyebrows.

“In which case, I’ll go start the breakfast.”

His heartbeat quickened. “I tell you what. Get everything ready, and I’ll help you make it.”

Another pause. “You don’t have to.”

He smiled. “Oh, I think I do. And it’s about time I start to function around the house.”

“Okay, I’ll raid the fridge.”

Adam sat a moment, listening to Paul thumping down the stairs. The natural manner in which Paul had laughed and joked with him went a long way to easing the tension in him. Adam pushed out a steady breath, expelling with it all traces of the negativity that had plagued him, and rose to his feet.

He had a long day ahead of him, and damn it, he’d make sure it was a good day.

Then he remembered there was something he’d planned to do that morning.

Paul had to organise appointments for them at the nearest clinic.

It was time they got tested.