Page 66 of Merry & Bright

Chapter Eight

For about a minuteafter Cam bolted from the room, Rob stared at the door, unsure what to make of the awkward moment that had just passed.

His comment had been mildly flirtatious, he supposed, but only mildly. It was the sort of thing he’d say to Val, or Kenny even. The resolutely straight innkeeper of The Stag seemed to regard it as practically compulsory to greet any potentialdouble entendrewith a camp‘Oooh!’and a raised eyebrow. Surely Cam’s reaction had been excessive?

Had he thought Rob was coming on to him? Coming on too strong?

Maybe he was put off by the very idea? There was a bit of a yawning chasm between them after all, in terms of age. And attractiveness, if he was completely honest. Rob had to have ten years on Cam, and even ten years ago he could never have hoped to give Cam a run for his money on the body front. Once again the mental image of Cam McMorrow swaying and grinding on the dance floor of Gomorrah flashed in Rob’s mind.

It was an unproductive train of thought and Rob ruthlessly suppressed it, heading into the kitchen to take an inventory of his cupboards and decide what to cook. He settled on Thai red curry, hoping that Cam liked spicy food, and got started.

While he pounded the paste ingredients together, he could hear Cam moving around above him. Creaking floorboards and the rush of water filling the bath. Everyday, domestic sounds that he’d grown unused to, after living alone for so long.

The sounds conjured up unhelpful images of Cam’s big, glorious body, naked and wet and no matter how hard he tried, Rob couldn’t banish those images—with every creak and splash they would replay in his mind, over and over.

The truth was, he was intensely curious about what Cam looked like beneath his clothes. Some parts were obvious of course. His broad shoulders, long legs and lean waist were all perfectly evident without him needing to take his clothes off. It was the smaller, subtler details that Rob found himself wondering about: how hairy that superb chest was, whether his nipples were small or generous, whether his belly button was a divot or a nubbin. The precise tone of those hidden stretches of skin...

As he pondered these fascinating details, Rob gnawed at his lower lip, uncomfortable. These questions weren’t the sort of standard sexual thoughts that his mind processed a hundred times a day—those could be boxed neatly away without any difficulty. No, this was different. This deeply personal and helpless curiosity about Cam went deeper than just wanting to fuck.

He wanted to look.

He wanted topaint.

Upstairs, the bath gurgled as the water drained away—Cam must be getting out. That thought provoked another image, this time of Cam stepping out of the bath, water droplets lazily running down his pecs...

Rob swallowed.

Jesus.

He forced himself to concentrate on preparing the meal, slicing, frying, stirring and seasoning until at last a pot of fragrant curry was simmering on the hob.

By the time he was done, Cam was on his way downstairs, his footsteps quick and regular. Stupidly, Rob felt suddenly nervous at the thought of seeing him again. He set out a couple of wine glasses on the kitchen island then grabbed a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc out the fridge. When Cam entered the kitchen, he was in the middle of opening it and glanced up, manufacturing mild surprise.

“Hello again,” he said. “Nice bath?”

Cam wore loose, faded jeans and a plain grey T-shirt that stretched tight across his chest. His feet were bare, his dark hair wet. He looked so good that Rob could only be grateful for the island he stood behind that obscured his swelling cock from the man’s gaze.

Cam was oblivious anyway. He strolled into the kitchen and his smile had none of his earlier reserve about it—he was back to looking his old confident self, except better. The smile he wore was more genuine-looking than the ones Rob had seen before. It was wide and oddly sweet and it made a dent appear in Cam’s left cheek.

“I had a great bath,” he said, sounding well satisfied. “My cottage only has a tiny shower and if that wasn’t bad enough, the boiler packed in two days ago.” He sniffed the air appreciatively. “Something smells amazing. Thai?”

“Yeah—red curry. Chicken. Hope you like spicy stuff.”

Cam’s smile brightened even more. “Love it.”

“Just as well, I put a ton of chilli in. White wine okay?” He tipped the bottle in Cam’s direction by way of question.

“Sounds good,” Cam replied easily.

Rob disposed of the cork and poured two generous glasses, pushing one towards Cam.

“Grab a seat,” he said, nodding at the two high stools that sat side by side at the end of the kitchen island and Cam obediently hopped onto one of them. Rob couldn’t help but glance his way as he settled himself in place, noting how the soft denim of his jeans strained against his taut thighs.

Jesus, what was wrong with him?He had to stop eye-fucking the man. He had no reason to think Cam was even vaguely interested in him.

Rob made himself turn away, occupying himself with putting the rice on to cook.