Temporary Insanity: (Temporary; Paul and Indy #1)

by H L Day

  We came only seconds apart, fingers digging into skin almost painfully, and our mutual shouts joining together into one cacophony of noise. In the past I'd always been quick to disentangle myself from him after orgasm. Not this time. I was content to lie with our bodies still joined, our fingers stroking bare skin as we kissed lazily. It was a cramp that finally drove us apart. Well, that and the need to get rid of the condom. I leaned over the side of the bed, dropping it into the wastebasket before rolling onto my back. I turned my head to the side to find Indy propped up on his elbow watching me. "What?"

  He shrugged, a ghost of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Just taking a moment to enjoy the fact that you're not running for the door."

  "Good point." I swung my legs off the bed, turning my back on him so that he wouldn't be able to see the huge grin that would give me away. "It's been great but it's probably time I was going." I went to stand, but didn't get very far before arms tightened around me like a vice from behind. They dragged me back onto the bed, Indy clambering on top of me and glowering. "Don't you dare! You're not leaving, even if I have to tie you to the bed."

  I raised an eyebrow. "And there was me thinking you didn't like the kinky stuff."

  Indy's glower didn't falter. "But seriously, you're not going anywhere, are you?"

  "Nope." I shook my head to add an extra layer of conviction to it. "You've got me all night. Whether you want me or not. I'm going to cling to you like a very clingy thing from Clingyland. The amount of time and effort it took me to get through that door, I may never leave again. Still want me?"

  Indy clasped his hands together, propping his chin on the top so that he could scrutinize me. "Oh, I definitely want you." He tipped his head to the side. "Assuming that we're not going to be some huge secret, what do you think our parents are going to make of the two of us getting together?"

  I winced. That was an interesting question. Although my parents were okay with me being gay on the surface, they'd never exactly been overjoyed by it. I'd always suspected that the overwhelming emotion when Stephen's and my relationship had fallen apart was relief that they no longer had to admit that their son was shacked up with another man. I was pretty sure that they were still waiting for the day when I'd wake up one morning, turn up for work in the family company, and start dating the woman who worked in accounts, admitting that my homosexuality had been a passing phase. I stroked my hand down Indy's arm. "Well, they can't complain that you're not from a suitable family. In fact, if you were a girl, they'd probably already be planning the wedding."

  Indy's lips pursed. "I could wear a dress."

  I laughed. "I don't think it would suit you, so I'll pass on that. What about your parents? How do you think they'll feel about me?"

  Indy considered it for a moment. "Again, after the whole still being alive thing, they don't really care one way or another. I could probably move a homeless guy in and they'd turn the other cheek."

  I sighed. "I wish I could get my parents to that point... but without the whole leukemia thing." I suddenly felt bad for being so flippant. "Are you sure you're alright now?"

  Indy nodded. "Two years in remission and counting. Another couple of years and they'll consider me cured."

  I reached up, running my fingers through his hair. "The treatment must have been horrible. Did you lose your hair?"

  He grimaced as if the memory was particularly painful, which it probably was. Now that I'd stopped fighting getting to know him, I wanted to know everything though—even the bad parts. "Yeah. I shaved most of it off before the chemo could make it fall out. It was okay. It wasn't as bad as the other side effects."

  "Like what?" I didn't know much about chemo. I'd never needed to.

  "Nausea. Vomiting. Weakness. Fatigue. Other things I don't even want to go into." He took a deep breath. "I don't think I could go through that again."

  We both lapsed into silence. There was nothing like discussion of a killer disease to spoil the mood. "Roll over."

  Indy lifted his body to smirk at my flaccid cock. "I think you're seriously over-estimating your recovery time there. You should have brought your little silicone friend as backup."

  I shoved him off me. Laughing, Indy nevertheless rolled on to his front. He turned his head to the side so he could still see me. "What are you going to do?"

  I let my fingers do the talking, finally getting the chance to trace the dragon tattoo I'd been desperate to get my hands on since the first time I'd seen it.

  "I knew you liked my tattoos." Indy sounded smug.

  "I don't like your tattoos. I like this one. There's a difference."

  "I thought dragons were tacky?"

  Trust Indy to have remembered me saying that. I continued to follow the path of the patterned ink, tracking it to where it extended to his neck. "It must have taken a long time."

  "About twenty hours. Through four separate sittings. And don't change the subject. Is it tacky or not?"

  "No, it's not tacky. Happy now?"

  "Ecstatic."

  "As for the rest of them, though—" I paused at the familiar music coming from the pocket of my jeans on the floor.

  "Your phone's ringing." Indy lifted his head before letting it drop again. "Are you going to answer it?"

  "I've still got a wing to do."

  "I think it can probably wait, or you can start from the beginning again."

  I climbed reluctantly off the bed, Indy's sleepy gaze tracking me as I picked up my jeans to rescue my phone. The only reason I was answering it was in case it was Dominic. I could hardly offer to be there for him and then ignore him. What kind of friend would that make me? Except it wasn't him, it was Gabrielle. I brought the phone to my ear. There was no way I was going to talk to her on loudspeaker. She'd probably undo all the good work I'd done. "What?"

  "I've sent you like ten messages and you haven't replied to any of them."

  "I've been busy."

  She let out a very unladylike snort. "No prizes for guessing what you've been busy doing. He forgave you then? Which is what all my messages were enquiring about incidentally. Because you know, I do actually care."

  She had that slightly slurred tone of someone who'd drunk just enough not to be compos mentis, but hadn't quite tipped over the edge into complete drunkenness yet. "Yes, he..." I lowered my voice, which was stupid really, Indy was only a few meters away, he was still going to be able to hear. "...forgave me. Which I probably didn't deserve. But I guess I was lucky."

  There was a loud crash. God knows what she was doing. "Aww that's nice. I'm glad. I can't wait to meet him properly."

  There was a familiar sound in the background. "Is someone snoring? Is that Jeremy?"

  "No, it's Russell."

  "You took Russell home with you?"

  There was another crash. "No, of course I didn't. Who said anything about going home? You wouldn't send a poor defenseless woman home in a state of in... in... ebriate... drunk. Would you?"

  I switched the phone to my other ear, knowing better than to point out that despite her diminutive stature, Gabrielle was about as defenseless as a ninja. Besides, I was more interested in the other bit she'd said. "So hang on. Are you telling me that you're both still in my flat?"

  "Yes, of course." She'd said it like I was an idiot. It didn't take too much imagination to picture the eye-roll that accompanied it.

  I turned around to find Indy propped up on one elbow, smirking. No surprise that he was finding this conversation amusing. He and Gabrielle were probably going to get on like a house on fire when I was stupid enough to let them be in the same room together. I focused back on Gabrielle. "So he's obviously asleep. Where is he? On the sofa?"

  "No. In your bed."

  I gave the casual announcement time to sink in. "You can't just decide to sleep in my bed."

  She snorted. "Are you coming home tonight?"

  I stole another glance at Indy, realizing too late what this conversation could sound like. "I'm talking to a gir
l, by the way. This is not some deep, dark secret I've been hiding."

  Gabrielle's voice chimed in my ear. "There's a girl there? I didn't know you swung both ways. What's she doing there? Is she hot? How many people has Indy got on the go? You, some random girl, the sexy fireman. Anyone else?"

  "I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to Indy and he hasn't got..." I hesitated. We hadn't gotten as far as discussing his relationship status with Ben. I'd made an assumption, but it probably warranted further investigation before I stood right in front of him claiming there was nothing going on between him and the fireman. There was another bang. "What are you breaking? Am I going to have anything left when I get home?"

  "Stop worrying. It's nothing that a bit of superglue won't fix. I found your toy, by the way."

  "My toy?" My cheeks flamed as I figured out what she was referring to. "Oh my God! You literally have no shame, do you? You've been looking through my drawers."

  "Just that one." She paused. "Why? Should I be looking through more of them? Is there anything else interesting to find?"

  I let out a slow breath. "No. There's nothing else interesting to find. And leave my toy alone."

  "I was thinking of using it on Russell? He's out for the count. I could solve the problem of his virginity without him even knowing."

  "You wouldn't do that." Even I wasn't clear on whether I'd made a statement or asked a question, my delivery hovering somewhere between the two.

  Gabrielle giggled. "Of course I wouldn't. I save the pegging for Jeremy." A loud yawn followed. "I have to go. I've got some gluing to do and then I need to sleep. See you tomorrow."

  "Gabrielle?" But there was only silence on the other end of the phone. I walked slowly back over to the bed.

  Indy raised an eyebrow. "Everything alright?"

  "I think I've got squatters." I elaborated at his expression of confusion. "Not actual squatters, just friends who don't think it's inappropriate to stay where they haven't been invited and sleep in someone else's bed. Oh, and have a good old root through their personal possessions as well."

  Indy patted the empty side of the bed. "Good job there's plenty of room in mine then, isn't it?"

  I climbed back in, pulling the sheet across my lap, one of the aspects of the conversation I'd just had still on my mind. "What about Ben? Are you going to end things with him?"

  Indy didn't bother to hide his surprise at the question. "Well... there's seven days in a week so I figured one of you could see me for four days, and the other one for the remaining three. Or maybe we should make it three and three. That would be fairer, I suppose. And then I could have a day off as well. I might be tired from juggling both of you."

  My blood ran cold and I had to look away, fastening my gaze on the fish tank over on the other side of the room. "Right! I see."

  My head whipped back around in response to Indy's splutter of laughter. "Oh my God, Paul. You actually bought that. Your face. I wish I'd taken a photo so I could show you. Like I've got that much energy. There is no Ben. We never went any further than that first date."

  Hard as I tried not to appear too pleased, I couldn't keep the smile off my face. "Because I ruined it?"

  Indy shook his head. "No, because he was a lovely guy, but there was zero sexual chemistry between us. We were never going to be anything more than friends."

  I picked up the pillow and hit him with it. "Remember when you said you were going to tell me when I was being a dick. Well, newsflash, it works both ways. That was a really dick thing to pretend."

  "I'm sorry."

  The apology was hard to take seriously, accompanied as it was by a massive grin. I wrestled him down to the bed. "If you're sorry, you need to prove it."

  Amusement melted off his face, replaced by heat. "Gladly."

  Chapter Fifteen

  THE LAST WEEK HAD BEEN fantastic. I'd seen as much of Indy as I possibly could. We'd been on our first date: a meal at a nice, but not too expensive Mexican restaurant, which I'd dutifully paid for as promised. We'd also gone to the cinema, which I guess counted as our second date. As long as you discounted the fact that we'd spent so long arguing over what we were going to see that we'd missed the start time for both of our choices. Instead, we'd ended up watching something neither of us were that bothered about, leaving early for great make-up sex.

  I'd stayed over at his. He'd stayed over at mine. It was nice. No, more than nice. It felt completely one hundred percent right, making me realize even more what a huge idiot I'd been to ever believe that sex with him would be enough. He was the perfect boyfriend: handsome, smart, funny, dynamite in bed. And the perfect cherry on the top was that he didn't take any crap. I had about as much chance of ever getting my own way with him as I did of being elected prime minister.

  Thinking about Indy made me pull my phone out to check if I'd missed anything.

  "Darling, not at the table. Not when we're having such a lovely time with the whole family together for the first time in ages."

  I lifted my head to meet my mother's disapproving gaze, which had traveled the entire length of the table to hone in on my indiscretion within seconds. How she did it, I had no idea. There was no way she could have seen anything other than my head dropping to look down. I guess it was a mother thing. The ability to know when your child is committing some crime against formal eating, no matter how old they've gotten to be. My brother, of course, was being the perfect son. He was sitting opposite me, in the middle of a lengthy conversation about stocks and shares. I forced a smile. "Sorry."

  And that was one of the many reasons I hated Christmas. I wanted to be with Indy, not sitting at a table with relatives I barely knew and only saw once a year. Christmas Day had been slightly more bearable. At least that only consisted of immediate family. But Davenport Christmas tradition dictated that we had to do the whole thing all over again the next day, except with five times as many people and much more pomp and ceremony.

  My father was at the head of the table on my right, with Anthony on his other side. Like a pair of son bookends. Good job he didn't have three. That would have caused spatial problems. It was rare that my father's head turned my way; he was too busy nodding his approval at the tedious conversation Anthony was having with my uncle Jack. The rest of the table consisted of my mother at the opposite end, Uncle Jack's wife, Lorraine, my grandma and granddad, three more sets of aunties and uncles from both my mother’s and father's sides, and then about six cousins that I'd have been hard-pressed to name even under torture. I wasn't even sure whether they were full cousins or cousins by marriage or some other complex family permutation. They turned up once a year, ate, and then left, never to be seen or mentioned again until the following year.

  I loved my family. I really did, but I hated all the phoniness that was unfortunately part and parcel of any get-together. Indy had been luckier than me. His family expectations had only stretched to Christmas Day itself. He was either at home, or he'd mentioned possibly meeting a friend, which could explain why he hadn't messaged.

  I rose from my chair, numerous eyes turning to stare as if I'd committed some terrible faux pas. "Excuse me. I need to visit the bathroom."

  My father looked as if he was about to argue my decision but I walked away before he could. There were six bathrooms in my parents' house, not including the en suites attached to bedrooms. I chose the one that was the farthest away, locking the door and seating myself on the closed lid before pulling my phone out and dialing Indy's number. He answered on the second ring. "Hey, gorgeous."

  Just the sound of his voice had me smiling. "What are you doing?"

  There was a pause. "Hang on, I need to check what the intended tone of this conversation is before I answer that. Is it a genuine enquiry or a prelude to phone sex?"

  "Would the answer be different?"

  "Definitely. If it's a casual inquiry, then I'd say that I was lying on the sofa, watching a shitty Christmas movie meant for kids and eating cold pizza because I can't be bothered to
walk to the kitchen and heat it up. However, if it's phone sex you're after, that's not really going to do it for you so I'd have to say something else."

  "Maybe I've got strange fantasies."

  Indy gave a throaty laugh. "You probably have, you weirdo." He gave a fake moan that still went straight to my dick. "I'm biting off a big lump of cheese. It's sliding down my throat. Want me to lick the mushroom?"

  "I wish I was there with you."

  "Oh, you want to see the mushroom-licking, do you? And I didn't even get on to describing what I'm going to do with the garlic bread."

  "No. I just don't want to be here."

  Indy's tone changed to a much more serious one. "Are you done with dinner?"

  I sighed. "We've only just got through the starter. We still have the fish course, main, dessert, and then coffee. Never let it be said that the Davenports do anything by halves. I'm hiding in the bathroom to be able to talk to you. I was hoping you could offer some words of wisdom to get me through the horror of the rest of the meal."

  "I could, but you won't like them."

  "Go on."

  "Leave. Get the hell out of there. If it's making you that miserable, why are you putting yourself through it? You spent Christmas Day with them. That should be enough for them. It is for my family. Well, sort of. They do complain but I just ignore them."

  I closed my eyes and for a brief moment let myself imagine doing exactly what Indy had suggested. It was a lovely fantasy, but that's all it was, a fantasy. "It would cause too much drama. I'd never hear the end of it. It'll only be a couple more hours. Hopefully." Indy stayed silent and I wondered whether he was fighting the urge to tell me I was an idiot. Probably. "Can I come and see you after?" It came out sounding much needier than I'd intended it to.

  There was a rustle of fabric as I assumed Indy moved himself into a new position. "That depends."

  "On what?"

  "Whether I get my Christmas present?"