Page 10 of Zero Divergence
Mendoza reached in the bag and pulled out the box of Just for Men shampoo that gradually replaced gray hair with each use. He stared down at it for a few minutes before meeting Royce’s gaze with glittering, dark eyes filled with mirth.
“Get the fuck out of my office, Locke.”
“Yes, sir.”
He heard Mendoza burst into laughter as soon as he closed the door behind him. He caught the rookies’ nervous gazes. “It was a big hit. Now get out of here.”
Royce wanted to follow his own advice but had one last thing to do before he could go home to his beautiful man.
Sawyer wasn’t sure what woke him, but he was grateful for it when he caught a whiff of the aromas emanating from the kitchen.Mmm. Bacon, onion, and garlic. Oh my. He’d taken a pain pill after his mom served lunch and must’ve crashed hard enough to sleep until dinnertime.
He gingerly got out of bed, relieved himself in the bathroom, and washed his hands without looking in the mirror above the sink. Sawyer knew his vanity was ridiculous, but he couldn’t stave off the worry that the damage to his face was more severe than anyone was telling him. It was stupid because neither his mother nor Royce would lie to him about something so serious. Connie had remarked he was healing nicely and even reduced the number of bandages on his head.Breathe in. Hold. Release.Forcing himself to lift his head, Sawyer studied his reflection for the first time since waking up in the hospital.
He’d anticipated disfigurement and blistered red skin, but most of his face had healed. The patches of new, healthy skin growing back were pinker than the rest of his pigmentation, but Connie had told him it was normal and temporary. He breathed easier, chiding himself once more for his vanity until he saw the damage to his hair.
“Christ,” he said, looking at the singed parts of his scalp where his hair was trying to grow back. The bristles hadn’t even achieved buzz-cut height yet, but it was progressing at least. “I look like I have mange.” He briefly debated calling his stylist to fix this uneven mess but decided to take care of business himself. Reaching into the bottom drawer, Sawyer pulled out an electric hair trimmer.
Fifteen minutes later, he walked into the kitchen with his shorn hair, expecting to see his mother. Royce was many magnificent things, but he wasn’t known for his prowess in the kitchen. Sawyer should’ve realized he had underestimated him when he’d tasted Royce’s double chocolate cake. Once Sawyer got over his surprise at finding Royce manning the stove, he noticed the way his boyfriend swayed to the Elvis song playing quietly from the Bose speaker sitting on the counter. He also observed his ill-mannered feline sitting on the kitchen island where he wasn’t permitted. Sawyer might’ve been pissed if Bones’s tail wasn’t swishing in time with “Suspicious Minds” and Royce’s slow dancing.
And just when Sawyer didn’t think his heart could expand any more, Royce started singing along with the song—seriously at first, then with an added Elvis snarl mixed in. Sawyer clapped, and even though his fingerless gloves and bandages muffled the sound, it was loud enough to get Royce’s attention.
He spun around, brandishing the spatula as if he might use it as a weapon. “You snuck up on me, GB,” Royce said, sounding a little breathless.
“Thank goodness for small favors. Who knows how long I might’ve lived without knowing you can sing and dance.”
Royce turned back to the stove long enough to turn the burner off, then he set the spatula down and crossed the room. His eyes raked in the newly revealed skin and buzzed hair. Sawyer felt self-conscious about it until Royce smiled and ran his hands over the soft bristles. “I think you’re giving me too much credit. I’m not sure the noise I was making could ever be classified as singing, or my swaying from left to right as dancing. I’ve seen junior high kids pull off smoother moves.”
“I loved hearing you sing, and I think I need a demonstration of your dance moves.”
“You want me to take you for a spin?” Royce asked.
“God, yes,” Sawyer replied dramatically. “Did you forget about my texts already?”
“No, baby.”Baby.It wasn’t something either of them used often, but it rolled off Royce’s tongue as naturally as when he called Sawyer an asshole. “I have every intention of taking care of you tonight. I thought we’d start with dinner first. I also have a big surprise for you in your office.”
“Yeah?” Sawyer looped his arms around Royce’s neck and moved closer. “Dance with me first. Just for a minute.”
Royce carefully slid his arms around Sawyer’s lower back, resting his hands on the upper swells of Sawyer’s ass. Pressing his forehead to Sawyer’s, Royce began to sing along with the music. Sawyer closed his eyes to keep from crying because it was the first time he’d felt somewhat normal since his injuries. He could feel Royce’s body humming with the need to be with him too.
“I love you so much,” Royce whispered. “I will always want you.”
Sawyer swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump of emotion blocking his airway. There was so much he wanted—needed—to say, but he couldn’t speak, so he pressed his lips against Royce’s instead, hoping his man could feel how much his words meant to him.
Royce slid his hands down to cup Sawyer’s ass, pulling him tighter into his embrace, slowly circling them around in the kitchen. The Elvis song ended, and a song with a faster tempo started playing, but they continued slow dancing and kissing until a timer went off.
Royce pulled back and smiled wickedly. “Grits are ready.” One last quick peck against his lips, and he released Sawyer to return to the stove.
Sawyer bit back a needy moan and followed him. “Grits?”
“Shrimp and grits. I inherited Aunt Tipsy’s recipes with the house. This meal has always been my favorite.”
“You’ve been holding out on me,” Sawyer replied.
“Just because I’m willing to exist on bologna sandwiches, instant ramen, and squirty cheese from a can doesn’t mean it’s all I’m capable of, asshole. I have many tricks in my bag.”
“Yeah, well, I’m mostly interested in the ones that make me come tonight.”
“Oh, baby,” Royce said huskily, “my shrimp and grits are an orgasmic experience.”