Confessions: Henri (Confessions Series Book 5)
Page 14
“Painful?” Bailey suggested when Henri couldn’t seem to find the words. “I can only imagine. You passed out pretty hard last night.”
Shit. Way to make an impression, Henri. First he pulls you over for speeding, and now you pass out drunk on his fucking couch. Good job. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I—”
“You don’t have to apologize. I understand.” Bailey walked around the beautifully carved coffee table that sat between them, stopped in front of Henri, and said, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
Henri would sell his soul for a cup of coffee, but, trying not to appear too desperate, he merely nodded.
“Okay.” Bailey looked to the large clock hanging over the fireplace behind him, and then turned back. “It’s still early, so if you had plans today or need to go to, umm, work? There’s a bathroom just down the hall to your left where you can freshen up or take a shower.”
As Bailey went to turn away, Henri reached out and took hold of his hand, knowing he needed to say something. To try to explain what had happened last night and why he was there. But his brain was too foggy.
“I’m sorry. I know we don’t know each other that well, and I shouldn’t have come here last night in the state I was in. It’s just…” Henri paused for a moment and swallowed around the lump in the back of his throat. “I had nowhere else to go.”
Bailey studied him closely, those incredible eyes seeming to see right through Henri as he tightened his fingers. “Then I’m glad you came here.”
With their hands linked, and their eyes connected, Henri felt more vulnerable in that moment than he’d ever felt with anyone in his life. He felt cut open, raw, and Bailey had barely said a word.
Bailey released his fingers and took a step back. “I’m going to go and make that coffee.” Bailey walked toward a doorway that Henri assumed led to the kitchen, then stopped and looked back. “Don’t vanish, okay?”
Henri nodded, and as Bailey disappeared around the corner, he let out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding, then his eyes flicked back to the clock. It was just turning six thirty.
He got to his feet and stretched out his back and neck, as he let his eyes wander around the living room he’d only ever been in at night. He took a second to admire how peaceful the space was, with all neutral colors and bright light filtering through the windows.
Bailey had good taste. In décor, anyway, Henri thought, as he ran a hand through his hair and turned to head in the direction he’d been told the bathroom was.
God, had last night really happened? He still couldn’t believe that Victor was gone, that he was…dead. It was almost surreal, because while Henri had blocked his father from his mind, he had always known Victor was still there. Still locked up, rotting away in a prison cell with the potential to break free like Jimmy had. But not anymore. Henri could finally be rid of that life he’d once known, and it was that which he had celebrated last night. The freedom to finally breathe for the first time in all these years.
Henri stepped inside the bathroom, flicked on the light, got a good look at himself, and groaned. He looked like shit. How the hell he was ever going to replace this image in Bailey’s eyes, he had no idea. But as he looked at the shower over his shoulder, he figured he could start there.
He shut the bathroom door and turned on the water. As he quickly stripped down to nothing, he thought what a shame it was that he was taking this shower alone this morning, when he really wanted to share it with the man several rooms away.
If Henri had any hope of changing Bailey’s opinion of him, it was now, and the best way to do that was to get his ass in gear. So with that in mind, Henri stepped inside the shower and tried to think of a way to repair any damage he may have done the night before.
WHEN BAILEY HEARD the shower turn on, he ordered himself not to imagine how good Henri would look standing under it. Not an easy task, considering he’d spent the entire night sitting in a recliner watching over the guy.
He still couldn’t believe what had happened last night when Henri showed up at his door. Talk about being thrown for a loop. Here he’d been thinking about all of the hot, sweaty sex they’d have at the stroke of midnight, and he’d ended up with a drunk, vulnerable man passed out on his couch.
Bailey scooped some coffee beans into the grinder and sighed. Poor Henri. Bailey knew exactly what it was like to lose a parent—hell, he’d lost two—but unless Henri brought it up this morning, he wasn’t about to pry.
The two of them were in this strange predicament where they knew each other intimately, but beyond that, hardly at all, and unless Henri volunteered more information, Bailey would feed him, make sure he was okay, and then let him go with no guilt attached.
Henri had needed something last night; a friend or a fuck, Bailey couldn’t be sure. But the fact that Henri had wound up on his doorstep had emotions he hadn’t expected rising to the surface.
Shit, he knew this was going to happen. He’d never been the one-night-stand kind of guy, and this proved it, because all he wanted to do for the rest of the day was hang out with Henri and make sure he was okay. Yeah, I’m sure he’d love that. Henri didn’t really strike Bailey as the kind of guy who needed hand-holding. But last night? Last night had been a whole other story…
“MY FATHER. HE died tonight. And that’s worth celebrating.”
As Henri’s words faded off into the silence of the house, Bailey looked down at the handsome face of the man who’d been haunting his dreams, and saw Henri’s eyes were shut and his breathing was steady.
His father died? Tonight? Holy shit, Bailey thought, as he tried to work out what to say to that. Considering the news, Henri didn’t look too upset or distraught. In fact, the only thing really different about him was that he was drunk.
Bailey took a seat on the couch beside Henri. “Are you okay? Can I call someone for you?”
Henri’s eyes did their best to focus on him. “There is no one, and trust me, no one would care anyway. I don’t even think I do.” Henri frowned. “What kind of person does that make me?”
Bailey looked down to the hands Henri was rubbing along his jeans. It was a nervous move, an agitated one, so he took one of Henri’s hands and laced their fingers together. “I think you’re a good person. You’re just in shock.”
Henri looked down at their hands and shook his head. “You don’t know me.”
That was true, Bailey didn’t, not really. “I’m usually a good judge of people, and I don’t think you’re half as bad as you pretend to be.”
Henri rested his cheek on the back of the couch, then he closed his eyes and whispered, “I don’t want to be. Not anymore.”
Bailey’s chest tightened as he tried to think of something to say in the face of such vulnerability. And just as he was about to ask more, Henri’s fingers relaxed around his and his breathing turned even—not a second later, he was out.
THAT CONVERSATION HAD played over and over for the rest of the night, while Henri had slept on the couch across from Bailey.
There was so much about Henri that he didn’t know. He’d always thought of him as mysterious, and the more time they spent around one another, the more Bailey was finding that to be true.
He had questions, ideas and thoughts, on the kind of man Henri was. But since they weren’t in any kind of relationship—even a friendship—his questions remained unanswered.
Like, what kind of man drove around in his ex’s car? What kind of man could vanish in the blink of an eye? And why would Robbie warn him away from Henri, even though he clearly cared enough about Priest’s ex to show concern for his well-being?
Bailey hated not knowing, and the more time he spent with Henri, the more he realized he couldn’t do this anymore. He knew himself well enough to know that this wasn’t going to end well if he continued down this road. He was already too invested in a man who was supposed to be nothing more than some fun, and there was no way he could just flick a switch and turn that part of his brain off.
Right…? Right.
Chapter Twenty
CONFESSION
I never have a problem leaving,
so what is it about Bailey that makes me want to stay?
“THAT’S A FANCY-LOOKING coffee maker you have there,” Henri said, as he walked into the kitchen to find Bailey on the other side of a wide center island.
Just like the rest of the house, this room was bright, clean, and tastefully decorated. All greys and marble that looked like an “after” shot from one of those renovation shows.
Bailey turned, and even though Henri had seen his cop less than fifteen minutes ago, the picture he made now was no less inviting. Bailey was in his jeans and hoodie from the night before, and his built chest and broad shoulders gave a powerful impression of strength and security, but it was his face that really caught and held Henri’s attention.
With such short hair, Bailey’s eyes were an instant draw. They were both curious and compassionate, and right now that was coupled with an expression Henri was all too familiar with—regret.
I knew it. He’s regretting his night with me. Hell, ever meeting me, most likely. He probably just wants me to get out of his damn house. As Henri moved further into the room, he couldn’t find a reason Bailey shouldn’t feel that way. But before he left, he needed to apologize, and this time have Bailey hear him.
Henri ran his hand through his damp hair and down to the back of his neck, then gave Bailey a tight smile. “Thanks for the shower. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. I hope you found everything okay.”
“I did, yeah. Thanks.” Fuck. This polite, distant bullshit was so not for him, especially when he’d been inside the guy just last week, and as he walked to the kitchen island he noticed the intent way Bailey tracked him. Those eyes were eating Henri up, even as Bailey erected a wall between the two of them.
“Look, I wanted to apologize for last night—”
Bailey pushed off the counter and shook his head. “I told you, you don’t have to do that,” he said, and went to turn back to the coffee.
“What if I want to do that?”
Bailey moved to the center island. “There’s really no need. We hardly know each other. You don’t owe me an explanation over something so personal. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
That sounded great in theory, and Henri knew he should be thrilled not to talk about all of the fucked-up reasons he’d turned to the bottom of a bottle to celebrate his father’s demise. But as he looked into Bailey’s gorgeous face, he said, “I don’t like that answer.”
Bailey’s eyes widened, but when no words left him, Henri kept right on course. It was time to let his cop know that he wasn’t done with them yet, not by a long fucking shot.
“You’re right, we don’t know each other. If I’m honest, I don’t even know your first name.”
Bailey sputtered a little, but that didn’t slow Henri down. It didn’t stop him from walking around the island and heading toward Bailey, either.
“But you know what I do know?”
Bailey crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s that?”
“That I can’t stop thinking about you, and not just that night. Although it was a pretty spectacular night.” Bailey’s lips twitched, but he remained silent. “You’re on my mind every minute of every fucking day, Bailey. I want to know where you are, what you’re doing, if you’d answer the phone if I called. That’s why I came over here last night. I couldn’t stay away, and if you knew me, you’d know that’s not normal—I can stay gone. Just not from you, apparently.”
Bailey looked down at the tile beneath their feet, but before he could say, Too bad, I’m not interested, Henri took another step closer and decided it was now or never.
“I’m sorry I landed on your doorstep drunk last night.” Bailey raised his head and looked Henri in the eye. “I didn’t have a good, well, anything with Victor, and it was freeing to know that he was finally gone. I felt like I could start over, and…I wanted to be around someone who didn’t know the old me.”
As Henri fell silent, Bailey uncrossed his arms and held his hand out. Henri looked down at it, and when he raised his eyes and saw Bailey grinning, Henri took his hand.
“Well then—hi, I’m Craig Bailey. But everyone I’m close to calls me Bailey.”
Henri tugged on Bailey’s hand, pulling him in the final step needed so they were toe to toe. “In that case, Craig, if you don’t mind, I think I’m gonna keep calling you Bailey. Because I plan to be as close to you as fucking possible.”
Bailey took in an unsteady breath, and this close, Henri could see his eyes darken, his pupils dilating, as the desire that had always been between them roared back to life.
“I don’t want one more night,” Bailey said, but Henri already knew that. He’d known from the minute he walked into the kitchen that things between them had changed. Bailey was no longer interested in one and done, and Henri no longer had the will to walk away.
So where the hell did that leave them? Him and a cop? It didn’t take a genius to know that that was a bad idea. But when Bailey ran his tongue along his lower lip, Henri thought that bad had never looked so good.
“I—” Bailey started and then stopped, seeming to think over his next words carefully. “I don’t do one-night stands. I mean, not usually.”
Henri spread the fingers Bailey was still holding and had a flash of déjà vu. This felt familiar, the two of them holding hands. It felt good, it felt…right, and he wanted to keep on doing it. “So what you’re telling me is I got lucky?”
Bailey lowered his eyes, that shy smile again making an appearance. “I guess you did.”
“Mhmm.” Henri shifted so his back was to the island, and then he pulled Bailey between his legs, right where he wanted him. “I got really fucking lucky. So tell me, Bailey, if you don’t want one night, what do you want?”
BAILEY COULD FEEL the heat in his cheeks as Henri’s question lingered between them. What do you want?
And what did he want? Henri—if he was being honest. Even though he’d just finished convincing himself that it was a bad idea. But if Henri was offering more than just sex, was it such a bad idea?
Bailey placed his hands on Henri’s chest and couldn’t stop himself from taking an appreciative once-over. Damn, he looks good in the morning, all fresh and sexy from his shower. Henri’s damp hair was dark as night, and the thick lashes surrounding his devilish eyes made Bailey’s pulse race.
It was difficult to concentrate as he stared into that face, but then he reminded himself how it was they’d ended up here this morning. “I want to get to know you. And I want you to know me.”
Henri rested his hands on Bailey’s waist and slowly nodded, but said nothing.
“I know that’s not what you wanted going into this,” Bailey added. “So I understand if you don’t—”
“That’s not it,” Henri said. “It’s just, I don’t know if you’re going to like what you find out, once you know me.”
Bailey frowned, Henri’s words similar to something he’d said last night. But everyone had doubts about themselves, right? Maybe Henri just needed to trust someone again; maybe he needed to realize that not everyone was going to judge him on past mistakes. “Well, I’m not going to know if I never have a chance to find out, am I?”
Henri looked away, over to the windows that were letting in the morning sunlight, and Bailey wondered if he’d pushed too hard, asked for too much.
“I should say no.” Henri’s words were so quiet that Bailey almost missed them. But then Henri looked him in the eye and said, “But I’ll be damned if I can.”
Bailey felt a smile of triumph slowly cross his lips, and he had to wonder what it was Henri was so afraid of. “Let me guess. You’re just not the dating kind?”
�
��Dating?” Henri looked so skeptical that Bailey laughed.
“One date. If you don’t like it, we never have to do it again.” As he went to pull away, Henri tightened his hands on Bailey’s waist.
“What if I like it too much?”
Bailey angled his face so he was looking directly into Henri’s eyes, and then he finally gave in to an urge he’d had ever since Henri had walked into his kitchen. He ran his hands through Henri’s wet hair.
“Then we do it again, and again, and again.”
Henri shut his eyes and let out a low groan of pleasure, and the sound warmed Bailey. It made him feel as though he were soothing some of the chaos from the night before.
Bailey doubted that was a side of himself that Henri showed many, and that thought made Bailey brave, made him bold. He put his lips to Henri’s cheek and said, “I want you, but I want more than just this. So how about you think it over while I make us that coffee?”
This time when he drew away, Henri let him go, and the look in his eyes was one of desire, but this time it wasn’t sexual desire—it was a deep-seated yearning for what Bailey was offering: more. Something he wasn’t even sure Henri knew he was asking for.
“So how do you take your coffee?” Bailey asked, quickly turning away before he did something crazy, like beg Henri to finish what they’d just started.
“You could make my coffee any way you wanted to right now and I’d drink it.” Bailey glanced over his shoulder, and Henri shrugged. “It’s true.”
“Okay then, why don’t you sit down and I’ll see what I can come up with.”
As Henri walked around the island and took a seat on one of the stools, Bailey took two coffee cups from the cabinet overhead.
“Did you decorate this place by yourself? It’s real nice,” Henri said.
Bailey closed the cabinet door, placed one of the cups in the coffee machine, and then rounded back to face Henri. “No. I mean, everything in here is mine, but the actual house and accents, that was my parents. I moved in here after they passed away. A little over five years ago.”