Bringing Him Home

by Penny Brandon

  Another frown appeared between Jared's brows. "Don't you remember?"

  Kyle shook his head. The doctor had asked him if he remembered the accident, and he did. Most of it. The parts he couldn't forget. He shuddered, not really wanting to recall seeing the bright lights of the car coming toward him, the stark fear that he was going to die, the sudden and shocking pain as the car hit him.

  "You were dragged several meters under the car. The car's--" Jared stopped, clenching his jaw. "The car's back wheel rolled over your chest. You were holding your bag with the laptop inside; it got the brunt of the pressure. Otherwise you would have been killed." Jared's voice dropped at that point, but he didn't turn away, didn't try to hide the glitter of something else in his eyes.

  Oh fuck. Fuck! "I wasn't killed." Christ, what the fuck had he put Jared through? He couldn't imagine what it would have been like, seeing him in the middle of the road, looking half-dead. He needed to apologize, really needed to apologize, for everything, but would Jared want his apology now? Would he accept it, understand it? "Jared..."

  Jared shook his head, a quick jerk that was as menacing as it was emphatic.

  "Don't. I don't want your apologies."

  Don't want them? Jared didn't want to hear Kyle say he was sorry? A sick feeling of regret and sorrow flooded him; he could feel it drown every cell of his body. That was it then. Jared really didn't want him. He turned his face slightly so he was no longer looking at the man he had obviously hurt enough not to be given a chance to apologize to.

  "Don't do that, Kyle. Don't turn away from me." Jared's voice was soft and close. A light touch on his shoulder startled him, and he quickly looked up to see Jared standing by the bed, that softened expression in his eyes, his mouth not as grim as it had been.

  He stood quietly, his breathing even and slow, his warm fingers still resting lightly on Kyle's shoulder. Kyle could feel the heat of it seep into his skin, into his bones. It made him feel better, and the ache that had seemed to become a permanent partner over the last couple of days eased. Kyle turned to face him, and as he did so, Jared's fingers skimmed over the ridge of his collarbone, softly caressing. The sharply indrawn breath should have been Kyle's. It was Jared's.

  Jared's gaze met his, his eyes shining, and in them Kyle saw a haunting need he knew Jared would be able to see mirrored in the blue depths of his own eyes. Not sure what he wanted or what he hoped to gain, he reached up and touched Jared's face, rasping his fingers against the rough texture of Jared's stubble. Jared captured his hand, squeezing it slightly before letting go and moving away. A little unsure about what Jared was up to, Kyle silently watched as Jared fumbled in the bag he'd left on the chair and pulled out a bottle and a washcloth. As Jared turned to face him again, there was a smoldering heat in his eyes that had Kyle gaping.

  Jared didn't say a word as he headed toward the bathroom located in the far corner. A light turned on, bright but subdued as Jared closed the door nearly all the way. Kyle couldn't tear his gaze from the thin strip, seeing shadows flitter across it as Jared moved inside. Half inclined to get up and find out what the hell Jared was doing, Kyle gripped the edge of the bed and lifted himself onto one elbow. The movement caused his chest to start aching again, but he ignored it. He waited and was rewarded a few seconds later with Jared emerging from the bathroom, a small bowl in his large hands.

  Kyle wasn't stupid, but he suspected his mind had to be addled by the drugs they'd given him, because it took him longer than it should have to figure out what Jared was up to. Seriously? A sponge bath?

  Chapter Five

  The look in Jared's eyes told him it was exactly what Jared had in mind, and if that hadn't done it, the hard bulge in Jared's jeans would have done it for him. Kyle lay back and watched carefully as Jared set the bowl down on the trolley table next to the bed. Again Jared didn't say a word, but he didn't have to.

  Not sure what to expect, Kyle lay passive, offering no resistance when Jared lifted his left arm. The skin was slightly pale and mottled with odd bruises that didn't conform to any specific pattern. A light touch traced the edge of one where it had started to fade, the color a sickly shade of yellow with a deeper hue at the center. A small sound of dismay had Kyle looking up.

  "It doesn't hurt," he said.

  Jared's eyes narrowed slightly before he fingered another bruise, this one darker, and though it did hurt a little when Jared skimmed over the swollen discoloration, Kyle didn't flinch and certainly would not have stopped Jared touching him regardless of how much it pained him.

  Still holding his arm with one hand, Jared reached into the bowl with the other, pulling out a soaked washcloth. He squeezed out excess water, then applied the fabric to Kyle's skin. It was warm and smelled faintly of lemon soap, and as Jared slowly dragged it up his arm, he could feel the slightly abrasive texture, oddly soothing as it cleansed away the dried sweat.

  Fascinated by the way Jared gently washed him, Kyle dared not move, dared not protest even when Jared hit a sore spot. The slow, almost reverent swipes of the cloth continued over Kyle's shoulder, around the back of his neck, along his throat, and down his chest. And each touch was accompanied by a light caress of Jared's fingers. As a result, Kyle's body began to respond.

  At first the effect was internal: an increase of his pulse, blood thickening in his veins, a heart rate that accelerated, and breathing that became difficult. Then more noticeable was the prickling of his skin, the heat that flushed away his pallid color, the hardening of his nipples, the tightening in his groin. Kyle couldn't ignore the signs; he was getting turned on. But that, Kyle realized, had been Jared's intention. The only thing Kyle had to ask himself was why?

  As Jared slid the cloth farther down his chest, he edged along the tight bandage strapped around Kyle's ribs. "Can these come off?" he asked.

  Kyle bit his lip, worried about where this was headed. "I don't know. The nurse didn't say."

  Jared slipped his finger beneath the bottom layer, rubbing just a little. "Do you trust me?" His gaze slid up to Kyle's and locked on.

  Gold-flecked eyes stared, focused and purposeful. Kyle felt their intensity all the way through him. It seared him inside out and made him feel weaker than he had since coming here. God, he hadn't thought he'd ever hear Jared ask that again. There was only one answer. "Yes."

  Jared smiled then, a full and genuine smile that Kyle had also been sure he would never see again.

  "Can you roll over to your side?"

  Kyle nodded and carefully maneuvered so his back was to Jared. A few seconds later, he felt the cool slide of metal against his spine and the sharp pull of the bandage tightening before it quickly became slack. The scissoring motion of the metal told Kyle what Jared was doing, and as the bandage started to come away, the relief that followed caused Kyle to groan.

  Jared stopped, and Kyle could have sworn he heard a soft curse. "Am I hurting you?"

  "No."

  "You sure?"

  "Yes. I'm fine." He wondered how many times he was going to have to say that before someone started to believe him. The rest of the bandage came off, and this time Jared's curse was more pronounced. "What's it like?" Kyle asked, not happy about the way Jared seemed to have frozen behind him.

  "You don't want to know."

  Kyle had a pretty good idea if the bruise on his hip was anything to go by. "It'll fade."

  "It shouldn't be there in the first place." The disapproval in Jared's tone hinted at more to come, but he didn't say anything else. Not right then.

  The cooling application of the washcloth resumed. Again Kyle felt its soothing effect, and he closed his eyes in bliss, fully aware of Jared's firm yet gentle touch and thrilling in it even as he began to fret about why Jared was doing this. As the wet cloth moved lower, tracing the top of his ass, Kyle shuddered, becoming more aroused with each featherlight caress. "Tickles," he quickly assured Jared when he thought Jared was going to stop.

  But Jared didn't stop.
Rinsing and resoaping, he brought the cloth up and over Kyle's hip, then down the length of his thigh. There was another bruise above his knee that Jared carefully skimmed over, and then with a light pressure of his fingers, he urged Kyle onto his back.

  The sheet that had covered him now lay pooled around his ankles. With the leg not weighed down by the cast, Kyle surreptitiously kicked himself free, uncaring that he now lay fully exposed to Jared's scrutiny. A sudden hiss of sharply indrawn breath had Kyle glancing up at him before following his gaze. His chest was covered in a myriad of dark purple bruises that mottled his skin so it looked as if--well, yeah, a car had run over him.

  "Holy fuck that looks bad," Kyle said, gingerly poking at one particular discoloration just above his right nipple. It hurt, but not overly so. He traced a strip of a lilac-hued contusion closer to his sternum, which had him guessing it was the edge of his laptop digging in as the car rolled over it. Without the computer's solid casing dispersing the pressure across the full width of his chest, Kyle knew the car's weight would have probably killed him. Looking down, he could easily imagine the tire crushing his chest, breaking bone, stopping his heart. He glanced back up at Jared again, a wry grin on his face. "Guess I was lucky, huh?"

  The look of horror in Jared's eyes made Kyle regret saying anything. Shit. But he couldn't disguise his elation at being alive. "They'll fade," he told Jared again. "And my ankle will heal. I'll soon be as good as new again."

  "And then what?"

  Kyle stared into Jared's expressive eyes. Gold flecks seemed to dance in the illumination coming from the overhead light, while shifts of green and blue vied for dominance over the brown, which changed from light tawny to dark chocolate. Fuck, his eyes were beautiful.

  "I don't know." He had to be honest, because he didn't know. He didn't know what Jared wanted, and Kyle didn't know what he could give him. Kyle's throat clicked drily as he swallowed. He dropped his gaze, not liking the look of disillusionment on Jared's face or wanting to dwell on why it was there.

  The sound of the cloth being dropped into the bowl, then rinsed and squeezed out told Kyle what to expect, yet he was still surprised when Jared's leisurely bathing continued.

  Trying not to look at Jared directly, Kyle watched how Jared's hands carefully smoothed the soap-laden material in soft circles down his chest and onto his stomach. Occasionally the edge of Jared's palm would touch his skin, or a finger would seem to gently stroke. Every time it happened, Kyle felt the arousal that had begun earlier escalate. As Jared reached lower, Kyle couldn't suppress the shiver that racked his body. Without any conscious thought, he twisted his hip when Jared skated down the joint of torso and thigh. He brought himself closer to Jared's touch, wanting more and no longer afraid to show it, and as the soaped-up cloth slipped beneath his balls and rubbed deliciously against the drawn-up sacs, he couldn't help moaning in appreciation. When Jared left his balls alone and started down his right leg, Kyle wanted to ask him to go back up, then changed his mind when the backs of Jared's fingers slid sensually along the inside of his thigh. He would never have believed a gentle swipe of a finger at the back of his knee could have him wanting more, or the caress over the arch of his foot would have him needing it.

  He risked a quick look at the man looming over him. Jared's eyes were alight with desire and need, and his bottom lip was drawn between sharp, white teeth in a way that made Kyle think Jared was holding himself back. Kyle groaned, and Jared's ministrations instantly stopped.

  Jared looked up, the multicolored flecks in his eyes focusing with an intensity that was disturbing, making Kyle feel like he was being scrutinized from the inside out. He didn't like the feeling. Jared was judging him, and Kyle knew he didn't come up to Jared's expectations. Not anymore.

  Humiliation once again twisted through Kyle's stomach as the cold reality of where he was and why he was there mingled with the memory of the heated groan he'd released at Jared's touch. Jared, the man he'd walked away from when he'd found out where Jared lived, the man Kyle had decided wasn't worth the agony of reliving past hurts, the man who was now standing over him with a look of want in his eyes. Dignity lost, exposed, vulnerable, Kyle broke. He couldn't do this; he couldn't lie here and pretend he hadn't ruined everything or that he had the ability to fix it. He struggled to sit up, not even bothering to hide the stab of pain that hit his body as he did so. With a strength he didn't know he possessed, Kyle grabbed the edge of the narrow hospital bed and slid completely off. He couldn't suppress a gasp of pain as his cast-covered foot thumped on the floor, but he managed to hold back the string of curses as the dull ache in his chest flared bright and clear.

  "What are you doing?" Jared asked, concern now lighting his eyes as he stepped back to Kyle's side.

  "I don't know, I just...I need to get out of here."

  Jared frowned at him. "Now? The doctor said to stay another night."

  "He signed my release forms, and I don't want to stay here another night. Just help me out here, Jared, okay?"

  "And where do you intend to go?"

  Kyle didn't know; he honestly didn't know. He met Jared's dark gaze, finding a challenge in them that surprised him. "Wherever," he said, gingerly putting some weight on his good leg.

  "Kyle..."

  "No! I don't need this, Jared. I can't cope right now. If you don't want to help, then get the fuck out of my face!"

  Jared's body stilled, his face becoming impassive, his eyes dulling until they were blank. Kyle curled his hands into fists and tried desperately not to show his misery. This had been his chance to make right what he'd done wrong, to get Jared to accept an apology, not to fucking alienate him.

  "Shit, I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean that."

  "Yes you did." Jared dropped his blank gaze and moved away, his limbs awkward as if he had no control over them.

  "No. Wait." He wasn't sure how to do this, he wasn't even sure what he was supposed to be doing, but he couldn't let Jared walk out on him while angry. Fuck, he didn't want Jared to walk out on him at all. "What do you want from me, Jared?"

  "Want? What I want doesn't seem to matter, does it?"

  "Yes it does." Kyle reached out and ran his fingers down Jared's arm, needing to reassure him. God, how wrong he'd been. He should have stayed, should have talked to Jared, should have explained. "It means everything."

  Jared's jaw clenched, and something flickered deep in the depths of his beautifully expressive eyes. "Fine, then you're coming home with me."

  Home? Jared's home? The sudden sick feeling that swept through Kyle's stomach had nothing to do with the drugs that had been pumped through his body but the memories of a hatred he hadn't deserved, of a rejection that had hurt beyond anything he'd ever felt before or since.

  He stared at Jared, not sure if Jared understood what he was asking. But of course he didn't because Kyle hadn't said a damn word about what had made him walk out of that hotel room. A tight band squeezed his chest, and Kyle tried to assimilate what it was: guilt for what he'd done, trepidation for what he could have lost, and then a burning hope that he may not have lost it after all. Staring at Jared, witnessing that challenge in his eyes, Kyle knew this was going to be his only chance to fix the problem he'd caused. But would Jared forgive him, would he give Kyle a chance to make it up to him? Taking a deep breath, Kyle threw all caution aside and just had to trust that Jared would.

  "Give me the clothes."

  Jared's brief nod was not the reaction Kyle expected. In fact, Jared looked decidedly pissed off again. Confused, Kyle waited until Jared handed him a T-shirt, then, while avoiding the dark gleam in Jared's hazel eyes, attempted to put it on. It wasn't easy. His chest hurt, and he hadn't realized how weak he still was. Struggling, one arm got caught, and he started swearing until warm fingers spread over his ribs and pulled the material carefully down his bruised body.

  Kyle went to thank him, then stopped short when Jared grabbed a pair of briefs. Kyle almost groaned. He
wasn't going to be able to put them on by himself and felt like refusing them, but he could see their benefits; they would alleviate any rubbing on his hip from the jeans. He looked at the briefs, then at Jared's face. Jared's lips had twisted into something of a smile.

  "Want me to do it?" Jared asked.

  "Do I have a choice?" Kyle countered.

  Jared didn't answer but quickly and efficiently pulled them up over Kyle's legs and hips, taking care not to cause any more pain than was unavoidable. It would have been embarrassing if Kyle didn't have to keep concentrating on not leaning in to the heat of Jared's touch, which kept igniting little sparks of interest over his skin. One half of him didn't want Jared to notice; the other half thought it might be a good idea if Jared knew how Kyle physically felt about him, but then Jared probably already knew considering Kyle's cock had been hard and leaking earlier when Jared had been washing him. It would have been pretty hard to miss that.

  The jeans were another problem. They wouldn't go over Kyle's bulky cast. "Cut them," he said, indicating the scissors. He was beginning not to care. He was getting tired.

  Kyle watched Jared as he stooped to the task, watched his bent head, watched the way his thick, wavy hair fell across his face. Unable to help it, Kyle reached over and ran his fingers through the warm, silky strands. Jared looked up sharply, that dark frown marring his brow again. He stood and slipped an arm around Kyle's waist, then pulled up the loose-fitting jeans, zipping and buttoning them closed without seeming to be affected by how close Kyle was. Kyle was finding it difficult to breathe.

  "Okay?" Jared asked.

  Kyle nodded. "Fine." He was lying. He was in a whole heap of pain, and not all of it was physical.

  He tested the strength of his ankle, putting some weight on it. "Fuck!" Fire shot up his leg and lodged in his balls. He groaned behind the need to scream and clenched his hands into fists, fighting the darkness that crept along his vision.

  "Kyle?" Jared's strong arm came around him, holding him, and Kyle unashamedly leaned into his hard body.