“I wish you’d been around before I accidentally murdered those roses,” Lily lamented. She flicked a dark-eyed glance over at Aidan, who was trying to keep the emotions off his face. He was still hurt about the roses, but he was trying to be a good brother-in-law, and he really did want a relationship with Lily. He’d have to learn to forgive her. Besides, he wasn’t sure he’d have done any better caring for the rose bushes than she had.
“The roses in the front yard at your house, you mean?” Patrick asked. He put a bite of lamb in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully on it. Aidan waited for him to say more about Nadia’s roses. Instead Patrick blushed and pointed at his food. “This is mighty, though I do say so myself. Have you all tried the mushy peas?”
Aidan nodded far too enthusiastically. “I really like them,” he said, spooning some into his mouth to prove it. He really did like them. They were salty and flavorful, but he’d already had his fill. He was just trying to keep the conversation alive and away from Nadia’s roses.
“They’re delicious, Patrick,” Lily agreed belatedly, following up with a long, defeated sigh. Aidan watched her fighting not to fall apart. Yes, he was definitely going to forgive her, now he could finally see that she was just as sad about their loss as he was.
“You were going to say something about the roses?” Max prompted.
“Ah, yeah, I was, wasn’t I?” Patrick remembered.
“It’s okay, Patrick,” Lily assured him. “They’re dead now. I’ll just have to—”
“Those aren’t dead, darlin’,” Patrick interrupted. “They only need a bit of TLC. I had a look at them when I was over at your place patching up the window. There’s still green under all that black. Means there’s life.”
Slowly, Lily raised her head and laid her fork down. She didn’t say anything but swallowed noticeably, tears shimmering in her eyes. Her whole face begged, don’t lie to me about this. Aidan, too, felt like crying but somehow miraculously held it together.
“Could you help us?” he asked. “Keep Nadia’s roses alive?”
“Black thumbs,” Lily whispered in agreement, holding hers up.
“Aye,” Patrick said, smiling. “It’d be my pleasure.”
“Always the hero, aren’t you?” Max asked playfully, knocking her friend in the shoulder with her own. “Hero of the roses.”
They all raised their wine glasses and toasted Patrick for knowing something about everything. He blushed deeply, and looked pleased to be of help.
Later, in the kitchen, while the two women chatted in the living room, Aidan cornered his boyfriend near the sink. He wrapped his arms around Patrick’s waist and rested his head against his chest. Patrick was so warm and his heart thudded in a lulling ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump that could have put Aidan to sleep standing up. He moaned blissfully as Patrick rubbed a gentle circle against his back and placed a kiss in his hair.
“I take it I’ve done a proper job of hosting this dinner party?” Patrick asked. His voice rumbled in his chest and Aidan could feel it all over his skin. He wondered if his sister-in-law and Patrick’s best friend would notice if they disappeared for the rest of the evening?
“Your mooshy peas were delicious,” Aidan agreed. “And you really are my hero. I wish I could be your hero, too.”
Patrick very gently pushed Aidan back where they could meet each other’s eyes. So serious. Aidan just wanted to curl back against his chest. “You’re my hero, too, my love. Don’t you know it?”
Aidan chuffed.
“Don’t blow air at me,” Patrick chastised, lightly kissing the end of Aidan’s nose. “You walked into Jill’s office and admitted something you needn’t have—something that could have landed you in jail and—”
“I also lied, stole, broke into my sister-in-law’s house, and have been generally morose since you met me.”
“So bleak,” Patrick smiled. “You interrupt a lot too.”
“But—”
“I’ve had my share of losses, Aidan. Had ’em but never played the ‘who has it worse?’ game before. I lost my mam. You lost your twin. I can’t imagine what that’s like. Just the fact that you’ve come this far since I saw you that first day in the graveyard. You’re trying to build a relationship with Lily, you’re—”
“All right,” Aidan pleaded. “I’ll agree to ‘Aidan isn’t a total hopeless case’ if you’ll stop talking about it.”
“Nope. ‘Aidan’s my hero’ or nothin’.”
Aidan groaned as Patrick leaned forward, their lips lightly brushing. Aidan moved to claim the kiss and found that Patrick, mischievously, was having none of that. He leaned backward, against the counter, just out of the reach, smiling wickedly. Aidan pressed hard up against him, enticing him to come back. How desperately he wanted to taste his tongue.
“Say it,” Patrick insisted. “Say it and I’ll kiss you.”
“C’mon, I’m not going to—”
“Guess I’ll be savin’ these lips then.”
“Paddy,” Aidan begged.
“At least acknowledge how wonderful I think you are. I’m not in the habit of loving men I don’t think are amazing.”
It was Aidan’s turn to blush then, and he felt his whole body growing warm. He closed his eyes and very quietly—so quietly he was afraid Patrick would make him repeat himself—whispered, “I suppose…you think…I have good qualities. Er…” He could feel Patrick shifting closer, wanted so much to claim that kiss he was owed. “You, um, think I’m wonderful and…” Then quickly, unable to get the words out of his mouth fast enough, he said in a rush, “You think I’m your hero which is bizarre but okay! Now kiss me.”
“Gladly, bossy.”
Their mouths met and Aidan melted into the hot, moist feel of Patrick’s firm lips. He clung to Patrick, pressing him hard against the sink, feeling Patrick’s body under his own. Thoughts of Lily and Maxine just on the other side of the breakfast bar were nowhere in mind. And was that a knock at the front door? Who cared? There was only this moment in time, isolated from everything that ever happened and everything that ever would happen. There was only Patrick and Aidan and lingering, maddening kisses. If some tiny fragment of decorum hadn’t floated in the back of his mind, Aidan might have pulled his boyfriend down onto the floor.
“What the feck are you doin’ here, Maxie?” A voice boomed across the apartment and, as much as Aidan had wanted to ignore it, Patrick pulled away, a deep, befuddled crease forming between his red eyebrows.
“I could ask you the same thing, Seamus Williams!” Maxine’s voice was high and excited. “It’s been years! Last I heard you were working on some farm in Kansas.”
“Are those the rumors?”
“What are you doing this far east?”
“Come to see my baby brother, make sure he’s gettin’ on.”
“Seamus?” Patrick muttered dumbly, his arms falling away from Aidan. The brothers spotted each other. Seamus grinned. Patrick walked over and was, in a second, scooped up in a hug by a man who stood a good head taller than him. Aidan couldn’t do anything but blink at the giant of an Irishman who grinned like mad.
“Patrick Ryan,” Seamus said, giving his brother another tight squeeze and then releasing him. “I see you’ve had tea without me.”
“Well, if you’d called or written or sent carrier pigeon or somethin’ to say you were comin’ ten states over, I might have waited.”
“Well, isn’t that just charmin’. And who, may I ask, is this young feller, starin’ at me like he might bolt?”
Patrick turned back to Aidan, as if he’d forgotten momentarily he was there. From what Aidan had discerned of the conversation, he had good reason if he had forgotten. Patrick grinned encouragingly and motioned for Aidan to step closer.
“Seamus, this is my boyfriend, Aidan Degas. Aidan, this is—”
“Boyfriend?” Seamus cried incredulously and Aidan, who had never come out before, cowered a little at the intensity in Seamus’s tone. Seamus looked from Patrick to Aidan and
then back again to his brother before grinning a toothy, pleased grin. “You finally got caught then, did ye? I never had you introduce anyone as your boyfriend, young Patrick.” To Aidan he nodded, “All right, fella, come ’ere. Let me give you a hug for putting up with this wally.”
Dumbly, Aidan walked over to Seamus, who actually lifted him up off the ground in a hug so tight he felt his bones pop just a little.
Chapter Twenty-Four:
Working It Out
“Come on, Williams. Get yer lazy arse out here!” A second round of hammering sounded against the bedroom door. Patrick pulled a pillow over his face. “The day’s runnin’ away on us,” Seamus hollered. Patrick held his breath until he heard the footsteps retreating. “I’ll be making you a cup of tea,” came the last bit, fading into the distance. Overhead, the pipes clanged as water was dispensed into the kettle.
Aidan peeked under the corner of Patrick’s pillow, bewildered and sleepy. “Does your brother ever sleep?” he whispered.
“Apparently not.” Patrick lifted his head to check the time: just past seven on a Saturday morning and another hour before he needed to open the gym. They’d stayed up until well after two, while Seamus entertained Aidan and Lily—and embarrassed his younger brother—with terrible tales of things said and done over the years. Max, having heard these stories a million times before, knocked off early. Sadly it was all true, and offered Seamus a perfect means to dodge any and all queries regarding his sudden, unannounced visit.
From the kitchen came the sound of the kettle’s whistle, slowly rising in pitch. Patrick closed his eyes, wondering how long he’d get away with pretending he was still asleep. Not very long at all, if Aidan’s hand kept on creeping in the direction it was headed. He could feel those fingers walking up the inside of his thigh, taking a detour over his hip, nudging playfully at the waistband of his shorts and then rather less cautiously gaining entry. A fist gripped him, tugged a few times… Aidan disappeared under the sheets. Patrick’s eyes sprang open. There was none of that slowly kissing his way down this morning. Aidan just yanked the front of Patrick’s shorts away, replacing the brief cool draft with a hot and very eager mouth. Patrick stifled a groan, concentrating on releasing it as a silent breath.
“You know he’s a dreadful habit of just walking in?” he warned shakily.
“Mmm,” was all he got in response. Aidan continued to tease—no sucking—just a slow sliding up and down of his lips, deliciously tantalizing, enough to gradually build desire and then keep Patrick teetering on the edge. In the distance he heard the TV come on, the transition through channels, settling on music that was loud enough to cover whatever they got up to. Patrick rocked his pelvis in sync with Aidan’s slow motion blow job. It definitely wasn’t enough to make Patrick come, and he had a good idea Aidan was doing it on purpose. It might be his first attempt, but he’d been on the receiving end plenty over the past few days, and was evidently a fast study. A fast study on a long, slow mission to tease—Patrick could almost see Aidan smiling that cheeky yet innocent smile of his. He surely knew how to get Patrick just where he wanted him.
Much as Patrick would happily have spent all day in bed, just doing this, and was pleased and annoyed in equal measure with Seamus springing a surprise visit, he needed to get up. He also needed release, and was about to say so when Aidan stopped and shuffled back up the bed.
“Are you planning on leaving me on the brink?”
Aidan grinned mischievously. “Could be…interesting, don’t you think?”
Patrick considered the prospect of spending the day feeling as horny as he did at that moment. There was no way he’d be able to concentrate on anything other than grabbing Aidan and pinning him against a wall, or on the couch, or on a bench in the gym. He didn’t care where, quite frankly, such was the state he was in.
“Or maybe,” Aidan traced a line up the center of Patrick’s chest and back down again. “I could just finish what I started?”
Patrick got as far as opening his mouth to answer—I’d like that a lot—before it became the reality. Aidan threw back the sheet and went straight down on Patrick, hard and fast, gagging at first and then there was no stopping him. He sucked and moaned, pulling his lips right to the tip, down again, keeping that motion as he rose to his knees. Patrick smoothed his hand between Aidan’s legs, the damp heat radiating from Aidan’s ass and balls. He could only just reach his cock, trapped inside his tighty whities, and had to settle for rubbing through the cotton fabric, which turned out to be way more of a turn-on than Patrick had anticipated.
He didn’t even have time to offer a warning, because suddenly Aidan’s sucking increased in intensity, his leg muscles tensed and he thrust into Patrick’s hand, the grunts and groans of his orgasm adding to the sensory overload that took Patrick over the edge. He was conscious of trying not to bang into Aidan’s mouth too hard and then all he knew was that the sucking had stopped, leaving Aidan’s panted breaths, as he licked and kissed away every last drop, and soul-deep satisfaction.
With what seemed like a mighty effort, Aidan dragged himself away and crawled up the bed, collapsing back onto his pillows. His smile was so content, so beautiful, that Patrick had to kiss it, in thanks, in the afterglow, in love with Aidan Degas.
And then…
“Where’re your keys, Paddy? There’s a queue half a mile long out there.”
Patrick squinted at the clock—quarter to eight.
“Paddy!” Seamus shouted again. “Keys?”
“Hold on, Seamus, for Christ’s sake!” Patrick kissed the top of Aidan’s head and reluctantly hauled himself out of the bed. Aidan’s gaze followed him around the room while he pulled on sweatpants and a tank top.
“Are you going to work out?”
“Yeah. I could do without it this morning, mind you, but Seamus will insist. And he’s really bloody competitive. You’re welcome to join us.” Patrick sat on the edge of the bed to put on his socks, glancing back. Aidan screwed up his nose—it was so cute it had angel and devil in agreement for once. Leave Seamus to open up and get back in that there bed. But he couldn’t. It was his responsibility, and in any case he’d yet to find out why Seamus was here.
Patrick leaned over and gave Aidan a gentle kiss. “I’ll see you in an hour or so.”
“Okay.” Aidan stretched sleepily and smiled. “I’ll get a shower and make breakfast for when you return.”
Patrick’s heart picked up speed and his stomach fluttered. He’d never had a boyfriend make him breakfast before.
“Paddy!” Seamus yelled from just outside the room. The door opened and Seamus appeared, filling the entire doorframe. He held out a mug to his younger brother and grinned.
Patrick took the mug and swallowed down a large mouthful of the almost cold tea with a grimace, but didn’t complain. Seamus didn’t need any additional ammunition.
“You ready?” Seamus asked. “Or d’you need another five minutes of snogging first?”
“Get out of here,” Patrick said in a mock angry voice. He gave Aidan a wink. “See you in a while, my love.”
Seamus snorted. “My love. Jaysus. You’ve got it bad.”
Patrick shoved him out of the room. “What the hell’s that down your front?”
“What? Oh, I ate the rest of the peas. Not bad at all, young Paddy. Not bad at all.”
“You ate them cold?”
“Straight out of the pan, aye. Looks like Mam passed on more than the ginger hair and freckles, so she did.”
That was high praise indeed from Seamus. Patrick cuffed his arm in thanks and fell in behind him on the way downstairs. When they reached the lobby, Seamus stood back while Patrick keyed in the code for the alarm and opened up.
“Queue down the road,” Patrick muttered. “Yeah, right.” He opened the door and waved to the two guys standing across the way. “These two never miss a day,” he explained to Seamus.
“Do you?”
“Rarely. I missed a few this week.”
“Aye, well. You’ve been kept busy, haven’t yer?”
“I have that, Seamus.” Patrick gave his brother a proud smile, not that he had any control over it anyway. He signaled to the lads to go through, switched on the computer and flicked the row of switches behind the desk; the hum of the air conditioning starting up and the beeps of machines loading could be heard from inside the gym. The computer login box appeared on-screen and Patrick typed into it, addressing Seamus at the same time. “So how’re things with you and, er, who’s the latest?”
“Oh, there’s been no one in a while.”
“Really? That’s not like you.”
Seamus chuckled, but there was none of his usual carefree cheeriness. Patrick studied his brother for a moment, suspicious and concerned.
“Are you in trouble?”
“Oh no. Nothing like that. I’m…look, are you done here? I’d rather chat while we work out.”
“Okay, sure,” Patrick agreed. He left the little sign on the counter to let patrons know he was in the gym, logged out of the computer again and led the way. “What d’you fancy first? Treadmill?”
Seamus shrugged indifferently and they headed for the machines in the corner farthest from the two lads on the bikes. Patrick set off at a steady walking pace, gradually increasing to a jog, nodding an acknowledgement as other people arrived and keeping tally in his head. Next to him, Seamus was matching his speed, big feet thudding heavily against the revolving belt. He had his head down and was frowning in concentration.
Patrick settled into his stride, mindful of his big brother just a couple of feet away, yet there was as much distance between them as ever. They got along all right, but other than their heritage and sharing a “green thumb” they had little else in common. Seamus was the thoughtful one, always pondering too deeply on every decision, struggling to make up his mind about the best course of action to take. Last time they spoke, he told Patrick that his half of the inheritance was still sitting in the bank. It was a tidy sum: both their dad and their mam had gone overboard on the life insurance and died young enough for a very generous payout. Seamus wanted to be sure he spent it wisely, knowing that he’d likely never see that kind of money again.
Seeds of Tyrone Box Set Page 15
