Found at the Bookstore

by Christi Snow

  “What...are you...doing here?” he bit out. Fuck, he didn’t want anyone to see him like this, certainly not Ryder.

  He tried to breathe through the pain, but his back was a huge throbbing void of agony that wouldn’t relent. “Aw, fuck.” He moaned.

  “Damn, you probably need some more pain meds. I’ll get them for you, but I don’t want to leave you on the floor. Come on. Let’s get up.”

  Stig closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. All that got him was a tantalizing scent of Ryder. That was okay. He could use the distraction. Anything else to focus on was good. Was this how dying felt? “You know, if it’s all the same to you, I think I’m good here. The floor’s not that hard.”

  “Aw, Stig, come on, you know that isn’t going to work.” Those warm, soothing hands ran over his shoulder, thankfully far away from the damaged skin and nerves. Ryder blew out a breath, and his hand stilled. “Okay. Stay there for a moment. Let me go get your pain meds so they can at least start working while we get you up.”

  Ryder rose and left the room, allowing him to get his brain online after waking so suddenly.

  How had Ryder ended up here? He barely remembered Landon bringing him home last night. He’d been doped up on the painkillers the hospital had given him. What had happened since then to bring Ryder here?

  Stig tried to stand. His muscles screamed, and it took everything he had not to vocalize the same sound. Instead, he blew out a breath and decided that concentrating on something else would be a much better idea.

  Ryder. He could concentrate on Ryder’s issues.

  Ryder seemed to be doing so much better today than just a few days ago. How did that work? When he felt better, he needed to do some research on brain injuries. The swings back and forth with Ryder’s physical and mental capabilities... That had to mean something. Like maybe the damage to his brain could be reversed?

  Stig took a deep breath, which pushed back the pain a little bit. He hated Ryder seeing him like this. He slid his feet underneath him and clutched onto the side of the mattress to pull up off the ground.

  As he panted over the side of the bed, he realized he was completely nude. Of course he was. Nothing like making the full best impression possible on a guy he...what? Liked? Respected? Wanted to be friends with?

  Actually, the answer was yes to all of the above. But it was kind of hard to make friends with a straight guy when all your junk—both physical and literal—was hanging out all over the place. Fuck, he was a hot mess.

  He shuffled to his closet, swaying as he tried to work up the energy to open the door.

  “What are you doing?” Ryder rushed to his side and grabbed hold of his elbow to help steady him. Until that point he hadn’t realized just how hard he’d been shaking. “You should have waited for me to help.” Ryder’s voice was laced with censure and concern.

  Stig ducked his head, appreciating the arm holding him up. How was he this weak when he’d been perfectly fine twenty-four hours ago? “I think I have a robe in here somewhere. I don’t think I’m up for real clothes yet, but you shouldn’t have to deal with my naked body.”

  Ryder huffed out a laugh. “I don’t know, but I think I should be offended. From what I’ve seen, you’re the guy who’s always trying to get right to the nakedness part with any other guy.”

  Stig looked at him in mock outrage. “Did you just accuse me of being a man-slut when all I was trying to do was preserve your hetero sensibilities?” No matter how much pain he was in, it felt good to exchange teasing words with Ryder.

  “Don’t worry about me. You don’t have anything that I don’t have, too, and I don’t think you’re quite up to molesting me.” Ryder gave him that charming, heart stopping smile of his that just sent Stig’s heart rate into overdrive.

  Stig clutched at his heart. “Damn, boy, you really know how to hit a guy where it hurts.”

  Ryder’s smile dropped. “Speaking of hurting, I brought you some more pain meds. The instructions say you’re supposed to eat something when you take them. Think you’re up for some food? I could get you some toast or crackers, but if you wanted something a bit more substantial, I make a mean omelet.”

  Every time Stig had considered food, his stomach roiled like it did now. “I don’t think I could eat anything right now.” If he puked it all back up...just thinking about his body tightening as he heaved sent a throbbing sensation rolling down his back. He hissed in a harsh breath.

  Ryder nodded. “Okay, come on. Let’s get you back in bed before you collapse. I don’t want to have to pick your naked ass up off the floor if I don’t have to.”

  Stig raised an eyebrow, and steeled himself to move again. “Oh, come on, you know you want a piece of all this sexiness.”

  Ryder chuckled. “There you are. I was wondering if flirty-Stig had been beaten out of you.”

  And just like that, Stig’s mind flew to what happened last night. He’d been carefully avoiding going there in his head. It could have been so much worse. Hell, he’d almost been raped, and he wasn’t sure Peter would have stopped beating him before killing him. Peter had definitely been set to deliver as much pain as possible.

  Stig shuddered. It hadn’t taken long for him to pass out from the overwhelming shock to his system from the caning. Thank fuck for Landon. He owed that man a new motorcycle.

  Ryder held his arm for support. Stig grabbed hold of the hand on his bicep and clung to it.

  Ryder stopped their movement and glanced up at him. “You okay?” His tone was pure concern now.

  Moisture built behind his eyes. “Not really, but in case I forget to say it later, I’m really glad you’re here.”

  Ryder nodded. “I’m glad I’m here, too. It’s nice to be able take care of someone else for a change.”

  ***

  Stig spent the rest of the day dozing in and out. Every time he woke up, Ryder was there...with drinks, food, pills, a helping hand to the bathroom, but most of the time, he just provided a comforting presence. It was something Stig needed more than he’d realized.

  They were both awake, watching a really awful B-movie on the Sci Fi channel in the bedroom when Ryder asked, “Why do you do it? The BDSM?”

  Stig had been expecting the question, but he still didn’t have a good answer. But after doctoring him all day, Ryder had more than proven he deserved an answer. “Most the time, I’m not really sure. I don’t”—he swallowed the excess saliva suddenly coating his mouth—“connect with people very well. I’m sure a therapist would be able to explain more succinctly why I’m so messed up.

  “When someone’s delivering pain, I can just let go and be. I know that probably doesn’t make sense, but that’s the way it feels. I’m free. There’s a link between me and my Dom that I can’t get any other way usually.”

  “Usually?”

  Of course, Ryder would pick up on that one distinct word. “Yeah. Every once in a while I felt that link when I was with Mac.”

  Ryder reared back in horror.

  “No, no. We never practiced BDSM. I’m not talking about connecting in that way. I’m talking about other mental, emotional connections, but obviously it was all one-sided.”

  And that’s why their breakup had hurt so much. When Mac had left, he’d taken Stig’s tie to humanity with him. Now, he just seemed to watch the world go by from the outside, looking in. “The exception to that is when I’m in a BDSM scene. The pain anchors me in the moment. That’s the only other place I’ve ever felt it. But I won’t do this again. I’ve learned my lesson. I don’t need to connect that bad.”

  “Don’t say that. Everyone needs connections. That’s the only reason for living.” Ryder swallowed and looked at their intertwined hands.

  Stig stilled. He didn’t even know when that happened, but he liked the comforting feel of it.

  “I get what you’re saying,” Ryder continued. “I feel that way a lot of the time since my brain injury. But I’ve had more moments of clarity and connection with you in the la
st week than I’ve had with anyone else in the last eight years. Human connection makes a difference. I know it’s not the same, but maybe I can be that connection for you, too, Stig. I think we have more in common than I ever realized. Think we could do that? Be friends?”

  “Friends?” Stig wanted to weep. In fact, if he thought he could get away with it, he’d tie Ryder to his bed in his house. Not in a sexual way, although...damn, why couldn’t the guy play for Team Cock?

  But Ryder was right. There was a tie between the two of them that he’d never felt with anyone else. It had started with Ryder’s art, but it went beyond that. Ryder had a sense of loneliness that pulled Stig in. He could relate to it.

  “Yeah, I think friends would be fucking fantastic.” He squeezed Ryder’s hand and enjoyed the rightness of the moment in the middle of all the clusterfuck that had occurred in the last twenty-four hours.

  Chapter Ten

  Stig

  Monday morning, Stig felt almost human again. Ryder had stayed with him all day Saturday and through Saturday night, but Ryder’s brain glitched more when he was tired. Stig had seen signs of exhaustion, so he’d sent Ryder home Sunday morning. Taking care of Stig shouldn’t come at the cost to Ryder’s health.

  It was time for Stig to start working the stiffness out of his body anyway. As long as Ryder was there to wait on him, Stig wouldn’t push through the worst of the pain. And it really wasn’t all that bad once he started moving around and stretching out the kinks. Yes, he was still stiff and sore, and he sure wouldn’t be working out this week, but with some ibuprofen, he’d actually made it into the gallery this morning.

  The Minton Gallery was closed on Mondays, but that didn’t mean all hands weren’t on site. Mondays were the days to catch up on communications and set up the new installations of exhibits. Today’s installation was a sculpture exhibit by an eccentric artist named Galleon. He created fantastic, steampunk-inspired metal pieces that should do well for the upcoming holiday season.

  The fact that Galleon was a really good lay was just the icing on top of being a fantastic, popular artist who made the gallery a shit ton of money. They’d had a friends with benefits arrangement for years. Galleon was one of the few men Stig trusted enough to have sex with. Despite Stig’s reputation as a player, that number was actually pretty low.

  He could use the distraction. His nighttime dreams about Ryder were becoming distracting. Too bad Stig wasn’t in any kind of shape for bedroom gymnastics, but that didn’t mean Galleon couldn’t take care of him. The guy was gorgeous and definitely energetic enough for both of them.

  Stig was on the showroom floor when Galleon swept in, completely resplendent in a steampunk-inspired top hat, floor-length, black overcoat with huge, pirate-like cuffs and a plethora of gold-button details. He spotted Stig, strode directly over to him and swept off his hat in a bow that would have fit into any seventeenth-century ballroom. “Stig Minton, you devil, how do you get more good looking every year?”

  Stig laughed. “Probably the same way you become more full of shit every year. Hello, Galleon. How’ve you been? Did you bring me some good stuff to show this year?”

  Galleon huffed. “Well, of course. I don’t create anything else.” He raised one imperious eyebrow made even more obvious with heavy charcoal eyeliner. The guy would fit in on the set of a pirate movie.

  He leaned in to give Stig a glancing kiss on each cheek. “Hello, darling,” he said in a quieter voice meant only for Stig’s ears. “I’ve missed you.”

  The brush of Galleon’s day-old scruff across Stig’s clean-shaven face sent a ripple of awareness down his spine, but for some reason, it wasn’t the same desire he normally felt. In fact, he had to grit his teeth against the immediate shudder of revulsion, wanting to step farther away from the gorgeous man instead of closer. He clenched his jaw. He wouldn’t allow what happen between Peter and him affect him this way.

  Stig hadn’t seen Galleon since a summer show up in Chicago that they’d both attended. That weekend had ended up being a whole lot less about art and a whole lot more about how much sex two healthy men could manage to have in forty-eight hours. It had been fucking amazing. Their sex marathon had made Stig feel ten years younger.

  Galleon exuded sex appeal and eroticism. Normally, standing within inches of him would leave Stig with at least a half-hard cock. Right now, though...zilch.

  That was probably nothing to worry about. His body had been through a trauma over the weekend, right? This was obviously a side effect. He just had to battle through it.

  Stig winked at Galleon. “You really should visit more often.”

  Galleon leaned and pressed his chest flush against Stig’s. Galleon wasn’t having any issues with his dick cooperating if the plank pressing into his hip was any indication.

  “This way our time together is just all that more special,” Galleon whispered. His low, sexy, rumbling voice brushed across Stig’s ear.

  Yeah, a night with Galleon was just what he needed to erase the abuse out of his psyche. Between those nightmares and the scintillating dreams he kept having about Ryder, Stig needed some relief from someone he knew could satisfy him and trust. It was time for him to get his head straightened out.

  “The faster we get the installation done, the quicker we can go to your hotel,” Stig promised.

  “I’m at your complete disposal.” Galleon spread his arms out. He removed both his coat and top hat, rolling up his shirtsleeves to expose muscular forearms. He had great arms...all that welding and handling of heavy steel had done amazing things for his physique.

  Normally, that physique worked for Stig. He ignored the niggling in his gut that those muscular “guns” didn’t turn him on today. It had to be left over nerves after Friday night. He just needed to jump back on the horse, and he’d be fine.

  An image of Ryder swam in his brain with the idea that pursuing Galleon was somehow cheating on Ryder.

  He shook his head to clear it. No, the idea of Ryder wasn’t going to keep him from getting laid. They were friends and friends only. Ryder was straight, and even if he weren’t, he had more than enough issues without adding Stig’s style of complication.

  “Stig, you with me?”

  The sharp voice interrupted Stig’s thoughts.

  Stig blinked. Galleon watched him curiously.

  “Sorry, it was a long weekend. Yes, I’m with you, for whatever you have in mind.” He just had to get both his body aligned with his brain on that and everything would be good.

  ***

  It took all day to finish the installation. By the time they were done, Stig’s back ached, his head pounded, and nausea churned in his belly in anticipation of the upcoming few hours with Galleon. When Galleon stepped into his office, he gritted his teeth against the shivering that suddenly took over his body. Lola and all the rest of the crew had already left for the evening, so it was just the two of them.

  Galleon rested with his back against the doorframe, his arms crossed on his thick chest as he tilted his head, examining Stig. “Something’s wrong with you today. Are you okay?”

  This was his chance. He should talk this out, but Stig was afraid if he did that something would change inside him forever. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

  “Yeah, sorry.” Stig swallowed and stood, gingerly stretching his sore, aching back. “Like I said, it was a long weekend.”

  “I think I’m going to need more of an explanation than that. You’re moving a bit like an old man, and the dark circles under your eyes don’t lie. Are you sick?”

  For their dynamic, Stig had always topped, so he hadn’t worried too much about Galleon questioning the horrific shape of his back. He thought he’d be able to keep it hidden, but that had probably been shortsighted. He ducked his head for a moment as he debated about admitting the truth. Galleon had played with BDSM a bit, also as a sub. Out of anyone, he would understand.

  “I had a Dom get out of control with his cane Friday night, and I’m still feeling s
ome of the aftereffects from that.”

  Galleon’s relaxed posture disappeared. His back went ramrod straight, and his brows rose in alarm. He took an ominous step toward Stig. “Who was it? Why didn’t you tell me this when I got here?” His voice was low with anger, although it wasn’t directed at Stig. “I could have handled the installation with Lola to oversee it.” Then his gaze softened as he looked Stig over critically. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m much better. Honest. I didn’t want you to know and I still want to come back to your hotel room if you’re okay with that.”

  Galleon approached Stig and gently cupped his cheek. “The more important question is...does it work for you?”

  Stig closed his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, it does. I need this. Can you give me an hour to go home and shower?” And give his pain pills more time to do some good.

  Galleon dipped his head and kissed Stig, reminding him of all the wonderfully, sexy times they had in the past. His heart rate kicked up as Galleon’s tongue probed his mouth, his hand grabbing his neck, pulling him tighter.

  Stig stiffened at that tiny show of dominance and control. He tried to control the panic. He was safe with Galleon. He knew that.

  Galleon immediately sensed his shift and pulled back, his eyes darkening with concern as he searched Stig’s face.

  He tried to clear any trace of the discomfort he felt from his expression. “I want to do this,” he whispered.

  Galleon was so still, his brown eyes more dark and serious than Stig ever remembered seeing them. His heart sank. Galleon was going to change his mind.

  But then Galleon nodded. “Okay. I’m in my normal room at the Windsett. One hour?”

  Stig nodded, his throat too thick to get the words out.

  “Okay, I’ll order us some room service and have the Scotch waiting.” Galleon ran his hand through the side of his hair, scratching his scalp in a soothing motion. “I’m looking forward to it, but if you change your mind just text me.”

  Then Galleon gave him a quick peck on the check, turned, and strode out of the room.