"Sure, but don't go to any trouble."
"It's no trouble. You're still shivering. Go upstairs and take a shower. Or a bath if you want; there's plenty of hot water. Towels in the cupboard, I'll leave you some pyjamas outside."
Hayden stood. Dylan was generous in the extreme. "Thanks."
"No problem."
****
The bathroom was cosy and warm. It didn't have a lock on the door but Hayden wasn't too concerned. He chose the bath. While it was running, he stripped off and hung his damp pants over the towel rack to dry. He added some scented oil to the water and swirled it around.
A small tap came at the door. "PJs outside."
"Thanks." He listened to the footsteps retreat down the stairs before he relaxed. This was all kind of surreal. He was supposed to be at home in the next few hours, tucked up and instead he was taking a bath at the Deputy Sheriff of Blackstone's house and thinking illicit thoughts about him.
He climbed into scorching water, sighing in bliss as he sank beneath it. Hayden had thought about men this way before, since his late teens, but had always sublimated the urge to do anything about it. He had never had a man and never would, as far as he was concerned, and over the last few years, he thought he had successfully beaten away the thoughts. At least until tonight when Dylan had demanded his attention. Damn him.
Was the deputy gay? Hayden hadn't noticed anything amiss in those golden eyes, anything which might indicate interest. Which was for the best. Now was not the time for Hayden's libido to sit up and take notice.
He glanced around the bathroom. Electric toothbrush standing in the holder together with toothpaste. A manual one by its side. Was that Dylan's spare for when his batteries went dead or did it belong to a significant other? The products crammed onto the side were all male and there were plenty of them. That pointed to Dylan being gay in itself even if Hayden was somewhat stereotyping him. Straight men used moisturiser too, didn't they? He certainly did.
Hayden sighed. He took some soap off the edge of the bath and lathered it up, washing himself over his shoulders and under his arms. He lifted his right leg, soaping it, looking at the scar which wound around his calf from knee to ankle, pale pink, squashing and misshaping his leg, the scar which had been part of him for the last seven years.
He rested his leg back down. Under the water it didn't ache as much. Still, though, he could have done with some painkillers out of his bag and the amitriptyline, which he took only at night, the one that knocked him out into the heaviest of sleeps.
He closed his eyes, letting the silence in the house overtake him, and the vague clatter in the kitchen below wash over him.
CHAPTER TWO
Hayden jerked awake to a tap on the door. He'd fallen asleep. "Hope you haven't drowned in there. Dinner in five."
"Thanks." Hayden stood up. He grabbed the nearby towel off the sink and rubbed his upper half before he climbed out. His leg gave a twinge of pain when he was too brisk with his drying. He borrowed a sly roll of deodorant from the stick on the window sill and then wrapped the towel around his waist to open the door. Pyjama bottoms, T-shirt, thick socks and a robe were draped over the banister outside. Hayden plucked them free and retreated back inside to dress.
He let the water out of the tub, rubbed the damp hair at his nape and flicked the light off.
Something smelled good downstairs. A steaming dish of risotto sat in the centre of the table along with a salad and an open bottle of wine, two glasses already poured. Hayden nearly salivated. He didn't know what he looked forward to more, the food or the alcohol. First things first, though. He went to his bag, which sat next to the couch, and retrieved the bottle of pills from the top. He shook two into his hand. Then he entered the kitchen.
Dylan glanced up at him from where he stood grating parmesan cheese. "Just in time."
"Mind if I get a glass of water?" Hayden showed what he held in his hand.
"Sure." Dylan reached a glass from the overhead cupboard and handed it over.
"Thanks."
"Leg still troubling you?"
Hayden ran half a glass from the tap. "Yeah. Not as bad after the hot bath, mind you." He swallowed the tablets down and took his glass to the table.
"That's good. What happened, anyway?" Dylan brought the cheese over to the table and took his place. He gestured to Hayden to serve himself.
Hayden took the spoon from the risotto and piled food on his plate. "Car crash when I was eighteen. I nearly lost my leg."
Dylan shook his head. "That's terrible. You must live with constant pain."
"I do. I recently had nerve decompression surgery. I'm supposed to wear a brace to help with the foot drop, but it's not my bag." He grinned. "Way too unsexy."
Dylan smiled gently. His golden eyes were soft with empathy. Hayden knew it was laughable that the deputy would ever be interested in him and his deformed leg. He took some salad, gulped some wine, and then started eating.
"So whose wedding was it?"
"A guy I went to college with. He married another guy in Canada last week where they live. Came back home for the reception."
Dylan smiled, a crooked little smile that made him look schoolboyish and his eyes glitter with green sparks. Hayden's stomach clenched in that familiar way again. He told himself the heat spreading through his limbs was the wine.
"That's great."
"Yeah." At least Hayden had established one thing—that the deputy sheriff wasn't homophobic. In a small town like this, he had expected it to be the opposite. He relaxed a little. Dylan wouldn't perhaps see his long history of illicit desires as something to cast him into the pit over, although having them directed at him might change Dylan's mind. He needed to get himself under control. The guy was beautiful, but he was off limits. Why do something about it now when he never had in the past? He had obligations to rein in his desires.
He tried to spark up some more conversation. "Do you always invite strangers to stay the night?" Wrong thing to say. He felt himself blushing.
"Only ones I like the look of."
Hayden paused mid-chew. His cheeks flamed further. He stared into Dylan's eyes, trying to gauge the meaning of his words. Dylan seemed unconcerned at his provocative words. He poured Hayden some more wine.
Hayden was wrong-footed, unsure. His palms became clammy and his heart beat faster. "H-how did you know I wasn't a serial killer?" He cursed the sudden stutter.
"I'm a good judge of character."
"You didn't even ask to see my ID."
Dylan regarded him. "Are you trying to convince me you're a sinister, untrustworthy guest, Hayden?"
"No."
"Then relax." Dylan carried on eating.
A loud clatter from the far end of the kitchen startled Hayden. A large black-and-white cat entered via a cat flap, paused to shake snow from its fur, then sauntered across the room, aiming for Dylan's legs, winding himself around them before stopping to eye Hayden carefully.
"This is Boots," Dylan said. "I don't get much company so he's probably shocked to see you."
This little tidbit about company made Hayden happy. Perhaps no significant other called around or stayed over. He put his hand down. "Hey, Boots."
The cat, looking indeed like he wore four long white boots over the black fur on each leg, came hesitantly forward, sniffed Hayden's hand, then arched his back, holding his tail in the air. Hayden stroked his silky spine. "How old is he?"
"Three. Found him abandoned one winter as a kitten."
"He's gorgeous."
"Yeah."
Hayden stroked him some more before Boots wandered off to two dishes set near the heat vent and started to eat hungrily. Hayden resumed his meal.
"This is really good."
"Thanks."
"How long have you been a cop?"
"Four years."
"Are you from these parts?"
"Yeah, I was born here."
"Ever thought of leaving?"
Dylan raised one e
yebrow. "Should I?"
"No, I just… wondered if you'd thought of working in a big city."
"Not really. I like it just fine here."
Hayden didn't really understand why he enjoyed living and working in the middle of nowhere but each to his own. Rock Springs was hardly the centre of the universe either. Perhaps the cop stayed here for someone else. The place might have looked like a bachelor pad but maybe he had a woman tucked away somewhere. Or a man.
He finished off his food. Dylan was already done with his. He poured them some more wine, then stood to take the dishes. Hayden automatically got up to help him. "Stay. Rest your leg."
Hayden did as he was told.
"Can you manage some dessert?"
"What've you got?"
"Homemade apple pie."
"Sure. Did you make it yourself?"
Dylan grinned endearingly. "No. One of the ladies in town made it for me." He reached a film-wrapped dish from the fridge and uncovered it. It already had one generous piece cut from it and he set about carving two more now, transferring them to bowls.
"A girlfriend?" Hayden asked trying to sound casual when the answer was all important.
Dylan laughed. "She's seventy-two with a blue rinse, a nice set of dentures, and pearls, what do you think?"
Hayden shrugged. "You might like the mature woman."
"Well, I don't. They make me things because they think being a single man that I don't look after myself properly."
Delight blossomed through Hayden's chest. "You look like you look after yourself very well," he said. Dylan turned to glance at him and caught Hayden's appraising eyes moving over his body, lingering on his ass. For a moment there was an embarrassed silence, their gazes locked.
Okay, he knows I'm hot for him.
The wine had let some of Hayden's inhibitions down. He didn't feel quite as mortified by this as he should have done. He only wanted to know if Dylan liked girls or boys.
"Do you want it hot, with cream?"
Hayden almost choked on his wine. He saw Dylan's eyes dance with amusement. "The pie."
"Oh, y-yeah."
Christ. He wanted it hot with cream all right. Hayden locked his hands together on his lap, fidgeting, his cock half-hard. Dylan put a dish and spoon down before him and Hayden took a bite.
It was good, the apples spiced with cinnamon, the pastry melting and buttery. The cream was decadent on his tongue, rich and sensual. Hayden's head started to swim. The man opposite him was all sorts of wonderful rolled into one. Hayden wanted him the way he hadn't wanted a man in years.
Dylan stood and took their dishes when Hayden had done. "Coffee?"
"Please."
Dylan set the machine to brew. He rinsed dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher while he waited.
"Can I help you?"
"No. Go sit in the living room. I'll bring it in."
Hayden went into the living room. He took the seat nearest to the fire at one end of the couch and relaxed back. He was sleepy. The painkillers had kicked in, magnified by the wine and his leg felt just fine. Despite the fact he was miles from home, his car wrecked against a streetlight, sharing the home of the sexiest man he had ever met, Hayden felt peaceful.
Dylan joined him shortly. He sat at the opposite end of the couch from Hayden, an empty cushion between them, and placed a mug before him on the coffee table. "Thanks."
Dylan sipped from his own. "It's decaf. It won't keep you up."
Hayden was being kept up, no problem, but that was Dylan's fault. He shifted on the couch, adjusting his robe so it was looser at the front.
Was he obvious? Dylan didn't look. He got up, fished a remote from down the side of the other couch and flicked on the flat-screen TV. "Sometimes cable goes down in the snow." A noisy rock song filled the room before the image of a guy with black hair and black-rimmed eyes formed on the screen, yelling at the camera about how he wouldn't let life kick him down. "We're in luck." Dylan turned the sound down a bit but left the rock channel on.
"What music do you like?"
"This."
Dylan smiled. "A man after my own heart." He lifted his cup to his lips. His gaze held Hayden's steadily. In the silence between them, Hayden's heart seemed to beat in his ears, each squeeze of blood echoing within.
Dylan put his cup down. He shifted abruptly, taking the middle seat next to Hayden. Hayden's skin prickled. His cock stood rigidly to attention.
"So what else do you like to do when you're not pulling people's teeth out?" Dylan's tone was low and intimate. His voice swept across Hayden's needy skin like a caress. It was clear now that he could have Dylan if he wanted him, but Hayden was afraid, mortally terrified of giving into temptation after so long, of taking what he had always wanted.
He stammered. "I-I like t-to read."
"That's good." Dylan's hand lay on the couch inches away from Hayden's. "What's your favourite book?"
"I… Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks."
"I've read that. That's a good choice."
"What's yours?"
"I like The Count of Monte Cristo. I read it when I was little and it's lost none of its magic."
"Great book. Did you ever see Gérard Depardieu play him?"
"Yeah. I've got the DVD. Love that version."
To Hayden, this book discussion seemed like an elaborate form of foreplay. Talking about books aroused him further. His skin burned for touch. His cock leaked against the soft material of his pyjama pants.
"What else do you like?"
"I…" Hayden floundered. All sense had deserted his brain. His breathing came faster, his heart racing.
Dylan reached out a hand suddenly, swept his fingers down Hayden's cheek, causing him to flinch. "Do you want me to stop talking?"
Hayden nodded mutely while he stared into the golden eyes as Dylan leaned toward him.
The cop's lips were almost over his when Hayden said, "I'm married."
Dylan drew back a couple of inches, his face still intimately close, his hand still on Hayden's face. He spoke in a whisper. "I know." His other hand stroked over Hayden's wedding band. "If I said I didn't care right at this moment, does that make me a terrible person?"
Hayden couldn't speak. He closed his eyes as Dylan leaned closer again and pressed his mouth to his.
It was the first time he'd kissed a man. Dylan's lips were all melting softness, gentle sweetness, belying the strength of his muscular body. His fingertips slid to the back of Hayden's neck, stroking the short hair at his nape, fingering it lightly.
A moan spilled from Hayden's lips. He put a hand on Dylan's shoulder before moving it to his head, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Dylan took the hint. His tongue, feathering lightly over the inside of his mouth, was met by Hayden's own. The kiss turned from hesitation into explicit need. Dylan's thigh pressed against his. An arm slid around his back.
The kiss seemed to take all the oxygen from his lungs but Hayden didn't break it. He felt a hand on the front of his robe, pulling the belt open, revealing his hardness in the flimsy pants with ease, before fingertips eased under his T-shirt, up his back, smoothing over his spine.
Hayden shuddered at the touch. He kissed Dylan harder as the deputy's hand slid right to his neck and down again, to his waist, fingers inching beneath the elastic of his pants to play over the top of one buttock.
Hayden caught his breath. He couldn't get close enough to Dylan like this, seated side by side. He needed to touch and kiss him. Dylan gripped both buttocks suddenly, pulling him. "Sit on my lap."
The command had Hayden climbing in an instant. He straddled Dylan, leaning down to kiss him again. Dylan pushed the robe off his shoulders and let it drop to the ground. His hands ran greedily up Hayden's back, leaving flames in their wake. He pulled Hayden closer, rocking deliberately against him so Hayden felt the hard bulge in his jeans, pressing against his own.
He whimpered, lifting both arms obediently as Dylan yanked off his T-shirt. The cop buried his face insta
ntly in Hayden's neck, dropping heated kisses, working down his torso, holding him by the hips as he teased at one nipple.
Hayden hissed in pleasure. A wet tongue laved his nipple, flicked against it before Dylan sucked it, bit lightly, blew on it, leaving it stiff and slick. Hayden bucked against him, rubbing his crotch against Dylan's chest, pushing down so the hard length pressed against his ass.
Oh God, he wasn't sure he had ever been this hot in his life. Dylan pulled back. He discarded his sweater and Hayden saw a chiselled torso complete with six pack. A black tattoo of a dragon completely covered his right bicep. He stared, hands trailing down Dylan's body, stroking, seeking.
Dylan breathed heavily. His fingertips nudged the waistband of Hayden's pants, where his hard cock threatened to rear over the top. His thumb stroked the head, leaving the thin material damp. Hayden couldn't have given away his desire any further. Dylan's hand moved down, fingers following the outline of Hayden's hard shaft until Hayden wanted to beg to be touched.
Dylan was taking his time, though. His lips sought Hayden's neck, kissing gently as he stroked through his pants. He found Hayden's balls and squeezed lightly, massaging them.
Hayden ground down on Dylan's erection. The solid feel of it against his ass excited him beyond belief, even with two layers of clothes separating them. He had never got this close to another man's cock before. He had never imagined one breaching his ass before as he did now.
Dylan's thumbs hooked under his waistband and pulled. Hayden's hard cock head sprang free, oozing at the tip. Dylan gave what sounded like a little growl. "Take these off." He started to push Hayden's pants down and Hayden helped him as far as his knees, when he stopped.
Dylan's gaze fixed on his. His hand moved down inside the pants, stroking Hayden's right leg. "Let me see," he whispered.
Hayden swallowed. For someone who never wore shorts, who only ever showed his leg to his wife, this was a big deal. Nonetheless, he climbed from Dylan's lap and dropped his pants, revealing his scar.
Dylan's glance flickered down a brief moment before he pulled Hayden back onto his lap. As he kissed him, his hand moved down Hayden's calf, stroking tenderly, tracing the scar with delicate fingertips.
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