“Are you enjoying the show?” Landon asked Carl.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Smoking should be outlawed though, what a stink.”
Landon smiled, knowing the guy was full of shit. Before Landon spoke he was enthralled. Carl was just as interested in seeing a little hot male skin as he was. His eyes were following a short blonde stripper dressed as a cop, as he trailed his palms from his chest to his g-string and his fingers dipped inside, Carl’s Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed trying to overcome his enthusiasm…Landon was watching Carl. Taken by the way his eyes brightened the hornier he got, Landon grinned at the sight of Carl’s swollen member pressing against the zipper of his pants. An impressive package, Landon took a side step closer.
“It’s okay to get a boner, especially if they’re doing their job right.”
Carl glanced over at Landon, a nice tent formed in his dress pants. He caught a gleam in Landon’s eye, catching his gaze fixed to the bulge in his pants. Carl frowned.
“Relax, Carl, it goes with the territory, no one else need know.” He laughed when he saw Carl step nervously from foot to foot.
“I did a stint as a bouncer in a go-go club in Toronto, Canada, it was a nightly thing to walk around with a chub on,” Landon laughed. “I went shopping the first week for a jock strap to help conceal it.”
Carl shook his head trying to appear nonchalant, a hint of a laugh hidden behind a scowl.
“I’d get home and have to soak in a tub for an hour just to get it back to its original shape.”
Progress Landon thought, when Carl openly laughed. If only for a second, it was a laugh denoting a bit of tension had released.
“What was the worst job you ever had?” Landon asked, wanting to get to know more about Carl, the mystery man and give the guy an opportunity to relax.
“Roofing,” Carl said. “It was only for one summer, but I spent it feeling like a lobster, my skin was burnt to a crisp, I was sure I’d look like a leather boot for the rest of my life. I even have a scar to remind me that manual labor is for the birds.”
“You burned that bad you scarred?”
“No,” Carl snickered. “I lost my footing and fell off the roof, after sliding down five feet of asphalt shingles.”
“Ouch,” Landon sympathized. “Pretty scar?”
“You tell me.”
Carl pulled his shirt-tail free exposing a 4x6 misshapen patch of skin along his ribs, raised and a slightly darker shade than his tanned skin.
“Doesn’t look so bad,” Landon said, bending to get a better look in the dim light.
“No, it could have been worse. The cool thing…? It feels like shark skin.” Carl said.
Landon raised a brow. “And what the hell does shark skin feel like?” he laughed.
“Just like this,” Carl said, grabbing Landon’s hand and running his fingertips over the scar, without giving it a second thought.
His scar was warm to the touch and felt rough like the finest grade sandpaper. Landon’s heart skipped a beat, his breathing hitched and his eyes darted to Carl’s. He caressed his fingertips along the scar and didn’t stop until they met smooth unblemished skin.
“So that’s what shark skin feels like, eh?” Landon asked. “Nice…very nice.”
Carl let Landon’s hand fall away and quickly tucked his shirt back in, moving his focus back to the strippers, who were giving the bride-to-be a special lap dance. She sat grinning with bright red cheeks, as did Carl.
Once back at Briggs’ house, Carl and Landon managed to get the girls to settle down, entrusting the remainder of the evening to the house staff. Landon went in search of requested water for a few of the girls, looking for the kitchen.
Curiosity was killing him as he came to an open door of what appeared to be a study, office mix. Papers sat on a large walnut desk like a beacon summoning him in for a closer look, what harm could it do just to have a peek. The letterhead belonged to Voronov Shipping, the invoice promised delivery of four shipping containers on the fifteenth. Landon remembered Briggs talking to someone regarding a delivery. Content description stated car parts in each container, no brand, no year and no serial numbers. Something smelled fishy.
Water in hand, he stepped into the hall. His eye shot to a red light in what he presumed to be a motion detector, he determined there had to be a security system, a house this size didn’t go unprotected. The one thing that Landon worried about was cameras. Maybe his plan to nose around wasn’t such a smart idea after all. If asked, he’d make the excuse of getting lost.
He couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of the place and started down the hall when he heard footsteps behind him and turned.
“Well if it isn’t Just Landon,” Briggs said.
Landon’s jaw tightened, his fist balled at his side and a queasy feeling settled in his belly. “Mr. Briggs.”
Briggs stepped closer, he had a condescending smirk on his face and it took everything Landon had not to grab him by the throat and choke him.
“That’s rather formal don’t you think, after what we shared?” Briggs asked, stepping past Landon into the office. “Come, have a drink with me.”
“Thanks but no thanks, I have to get back to the ladies, I have a job to finish,” Landon said, yet found himself following.
Briggs removed his jacket, throwing it over the back of a chair he leaned back against the desk and loosened his tie. “There are two of you, let your colleague take care of things for a while.”
“I was told you were out of town.”
“And now I am not.”
“Mr. Briggs.”
“Michael.”
“Mr. Briggs, I’m here to do a job, if you’ll excuse me.” Landon said, and started down the long hall, his stomach churning.
“Landon,” Briggs called to him from the doorway, “I will get what I want, your avoiding me is futile. I always get what I want in the end.”
Landon spun on his heels, deciding to face the man and tell him exactly how this was going to turn out. Better to be clear from the start.
“Mr. Briggs, I am not interested. What happened…will never happen again.”
Throwing his head back, Briggs laughed like a demonic psychopath. His evil laugh didn’t surprise Landon at all. He had experienced firsthand the evil that spewed from this man like acid. He was a vile character, obviously used to people falling at his feet for the honor of being used as his personal doormat.
Landon was having none of it and turned his back on him.
“Goodbye, Mr. Briggs.”
“Until we meet again, Landon,” Brigg’s laughed. “And we will most definitely be seeing each other again.”
“Landon,” Carl called, from the end of the hall. “Party is wrapping up, I could use a hand.”
“Be with you in a minute, Carl.” Landon said, keeping his eyes on Briggs.
Briggs brushed imaginary lint from Landon’s jacket sleeve as he spoke, maintaining a composed arrogance. “You be a good boy now, see that those girls are tucked in.”
“Consider them tucked, we’re leaving.”
Landon wasn’t wasting another moment trying to convince Briggs that what happened in the back of his limo was never going to happen again and he wasn’t giving him the opportunity to try something with him again. Threat or no threat, Briggs was shit-out-of-luck if he thought Landon would roll over and play silly bitch for him again.
“Who was that?” Carl asked, as Landon walked past him.
“Briggs.”
Carl’s eyes widened, knowing the reason Landon had an angry glare slapped across his face. Not sure whether to push, he braved the question.
“What did he want?” Carl asked.
“Nothing,” Landon’s eyes dropped to the floor. “Absolutely fuck all.”
“He was supposed to be away,” Carl announced, as if Landon was unaware. “Are you okay?”
Landon wasn’t okay, he wanted to tear Briggs from limb to limb, wanted to hurt him. But he wasn’t going to shar
e that fact with Carl, wasn’t about to admit that he went down on Briggs because he was threatened. That same nauseating feeling he’d experienced each time he was reminded of that night left a bitter sick feeling in the back of his throat. If he didn’t want to throw up again, he had to change the subject quickly.
“Why don’t we concentrate on saying goodbye and call it a night. Daddy’s here and we’re going home.”
Carl was truly confused. “What got you so fucking pissy?”
“Briggs walking through the fucking door,” Landon snapped.
It was apparent Landon had a hate on for Briggs, he wasn’t offering an explanation and Carl wasn’t asking. His mood had changed dramatically, the happy-go-lucky Landon who was joking about boners not two hours ago, was acting completely out of character.
Then Carl watched Landon do a complete one-eighty, as he said his goodbyes, he was debonair and charming, an utter professional.
“Done, now get me the fuck out of here?” Landon asked, shrugging on his jacket. “I’m going to need a stiff one once we’re home.”
Carl laughed at the innuendo, Landon did not.
“This nightmare just never ends,” Landon spoke in a whisper.
“What was that?” Carl asked, but Landon walked ahead in a rush, choosing to ignore the question.
Not a word was shared on the ride home and once in the door Landon disappeared, leaving Carl to himself. He sauntered behind the bar and loaded crates with dirty glasses taking them to the kitchen and filled up the dishwasher. It was better for Carl to stay busy, then he wouldn’t have time to think about Landon. He came around the back of the bar with a crate of clean glasses and started filling the glass shelves. He heard a familiar voice ask Rex for a Coors lite and watched as Landon twisted the cap off a beer bottle and took a long swig. So strange for Landon to drink anything containing alcohol, Carl knew something was bothering him but he wasn’t about to pry.
Landon’s eyes followed his every move. Carl felt his stare burning into the back of his head as he topped up the ice wells, olive trays and prepared for close. Once finished, Carl sneered at Landon’s overt attention and grabbed a stack of towels for the bar upstairs.
Landon’s hand covered Carl’s before he could open the rear entrance door into Passion, Carl quickly yanked his hand away.
He moved about like a ninja, his stealth training was paying off as far as surprising Carl went. Landon could move from one end of the building to the other in the dead of night with the floors covered in bubble wrap and not make a sound. One minute Carl was all alone, the next second Landon was standing in his face and Carl had no idea where he came from or how.
“You haven’t got a clue do you?” Landon asked.
“I guess not, because I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Carl said, pulling open the door only to have Landon close it again.
“How hot you look.”
Crazy thing was, Carl could say the same thing, but he wouldn’t.
“You’ve been drinking,” Carl said, pulling the door again, and sighing with frustration as Landon closed it, yet again.
“I need to put these away.” Carl held up the stack of towels as proof he was too busy for games.
“Carl, you’re not on the clock.”
“I’m helping out, what’s wrong with that, it keeps me busy.”
“My point exactly,” Landon said, knocking the towels from Carl’s hand. “Any excuse not to deal.”
“Fuck,” Carl dropped to the floor to pick up the towels. “Are you out of your mind? Deal with what?”
“When are you going to deal with who and what you are, when will you admit you like me and want to be with me?” Landon stepped closer, weaving his hands into Carl’s hair applying just enough force to make him stand.
“Look into my eyes and tell me you don’t feel something,” Landon whispered. “Go ahead and tell me you don’t feel your cock getting hard when I’m near.”
Carl didn’t answer, his eyes looking everywhere except at Landon. He knew Landon was right, something did stir when he caught Landon watching him, he did grow hard at the thought of Landon nearby or far away, hell it would happen if he was a universe away. But to admit it, meant no good would come.
Carl slowly shook his head. “Even if I did feel something…and I’m not saying I do, it can’t happen. I won’t let it.”
He bent down, picked up the towels and held them tight to his chest. “Find someone else, Ace. Save yourself.”
Pushing Landon aside, Carl yanked the door open and flew through the door, he threw the tousled pile of towels onto the bar and disappeared up the back stairs to the apartment, locking the door when he got inside.
Minutes later Landon stood knocking on the door. “Carl let me in.”
“Go away, Ace, I’m not interested in talking, I have nothing to say.”
Landon wanted to know what he meant by save yourself. It sounded like an ominous warning from a horror movie, like he was stricken with some kind of savage disease that ate away at your flesh if you got too close, or you would come down with an incurable virus that rotted you from the inside out if you came into contact.
Well, he had kissed him twice and body parts hadn’t started falling off. It was going to take more than idle warnings to keep him away.
“I know where you keep the key.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Carl called out.
“Then let me in.” Landon chuckled. “This is a chick thing you know? Only women lock themselves behind closed doors.”
Hiding was kind of childish, Carl tittered but wasn’t about to budge, then he had a thought. “Tell me about you and Briggs and maybe I’ll let you in.”
Just the idea of confessing to Carl about that night made Landon’s stomach ache, his palms became sweaty and he rubbed them together and then wiped them on his thighs. He shook his head and stepped back from the door. Not in this lifetime, he thought, confession in this case was anything but good for the soul. He was in no mood tonight to cleanse his soul.
“No deal,” Landon said, stepping further away. “Not…fucking…going…there.”
“Then you’ll stay on that side of the door, Ace.”
“Works for me,” Landon stormed down the stairs. “Later, Babes.”
SIX
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Carl stared at the stream of cold water dribbling from the showerhead. He screwed up royally this time thinking he could adjust the temperature. It looked so easy when he watched the plumber do it. All he had to do was pop off the cover, take a wrench and turn the round thingy. It was simple in theory, but when it came down to doing it he may have turned the wrong thingy.
Being born a man didn’t mean you were born with a toolbox in hand and a knowledge of how to repair all things broken. Carl’s old man was a rich lawyer, he could afford a repairman, and therefore he instilled the ability to dial a phone on his son, rather than do-it-yourself tutorials.
Now Carl was left with asking for help. Landon would never let him live this down, he was going to be a laughing stalk for years to come, but he had no choice. He needed a shower. He had a doctor’s appointment and wasn’t going to it smelling the way he did after his stellar workout.
He sent a text, feeling like a fool, not relishing talking to the man he wouldn’t open his door to less than twelve hours ago.
Landon knocked at Carl’s apartment door, resting against the frame and waiting after being summoned by Carl to adjust the pre-set temperature settings on the shower. Carl was admittedly not a toolbox friendly kind of guy. Landon wasn’t even sure if Carl knew which end of a hammer to use, much less anything to do with plumbing. Whereas Landon had been essentially born with a unique knowledge of tools and could repair just about anything. He was a hands-on guy.
Carl was wrapped in a white plush terry towel robe, his hands tucked in the pockets and his feet bare. The slightest hint of hair peeked out at his chest, a smattering of fluff on his legs, not too much just enough
to entice, made Landon lick his lips. Landon couldn’t help but stare, his eyes roved up from Carl’s toes to his handsome face and their eyes collided. To his surprise Carl didn’t look away, his gaze set on Landon, there was even a hint of a smile.
Stepping closer testing the waters, Landon swallowed back the urge to dart forward and rip the robe from Carl’s body. Instead, he circled around him like a lion prowling his kill. Standing at his back he leaned forward and scented him, he smelled of manly perspiration and oranges.
“Ace?”
“Uh huh.”
“Are you sniffing me?”
“You smell like an orange.”
“It’s Bergamot oil, it’s a neuro-tonic, helps fight depression, fatigue and frustration,” Carl said, with a laugh.
Carl wasn’t bolting, wasn’t moving at all and Landon couldn’t resist asking, “Does that include sexual frustration?”
“It may, it has many valuable properties.”
Landon continued his slow quest until he stood face to face with Carl. He lifted his hand to the lapel of Carl’s robe and ran his finger down to the loop at his waist. He gave it a tug and Carl’s eyes dropped to Landon’s hand and darted back to his face.
“You’re not running.”
“No, I guess I’m not.”
Landon smiled.
“Do you like games Carl?” Landon asked, moving into Carl’s most private space, noting Carl swallowing hard.
“It depends on the game,” Carl answered.
“Do you like to try new things, are you the adventurous type?”
“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “Maybe…?”
“That’s not an answer,” Landon said, leaning into Carl’s ear. “You want to play a game with me, Carlton?”
“I don’t know.”
“Again, that’s not an answer,” Landon said, the corner of his mouth connecting with the lobe of Carl’s ear causing him to flinch. “If I promise to keep my dick in my pants, will you play my game?”
“Ace, what are you doing?” Carl asked, as a rush of hot air from Landon’s breath collided with the flesh under his ear, sending a spark reeling from his head to his toes.
Landon's Desire (Book Three of The Pulse Series 3) Page 6
