Grey's Awakening Page 3

  Grey rolled over in bed and stretched his arms and legs, groaning as a beam of sunlight hit right on his face, blinding him enough to make him snap his eyes closed in protest. “Ohhh, Christ Almighty.” He dug the heels of his hands into his forehead, trying to suppress the dull ache already forming there. “Great way to start a vacation.” He glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand, swearing at the early hour. Seven o’clock in the morning; he had gotten two whole hours of sleep. Great. He knew it was a miracle he had gotten that small amount and didn’t bother burying his head under a pillow for more.

  “Get up, get up, get up.” His body protesting every move, Grey pushed himself to a sitting position and forced himself to stand. One of Grey’s greatest secrets was how much he detested getting up in the morning. For the purposes of school, college, and work, he had trained himself to do it, but at thirty-three years old he still had to give himself a pep talk every morning in order to get moving. He grabbed clothes but his feet dragged especially heavy today knowing he wouldn’t be able to put off facing Sirus forever.

  Holy fuck, Grey still could not believe what he’d let happen. He never should have invaded Sirus’s privacy in the first place, but beyond that, he should have exhibited some personal control. He was not some goddamned ten-year-old pulling on his dick for the first time; he knew how to ignore and walk away from sexual excitement and arousal, and had been doing so for many years. He never lied to himself about being gay, but that didn’t mean he jumped every man who showed interest in him. Fuck, he’d just recently discreetly turned down an invitation from a hell of a sexy attorney who worked for one of his investors. Grey knew damn well how to walk away from things that he wanted.

  He just didn’t know why he couldn’t move away from Sirus’s doorway last night.

  “Doesn’t matter why, damn it.” Grey locked the bathroom door and looked himself in the mirror, his tone harsh. Speaking aloud always forced him to process the meaning behind his words in another way, helping to drive home the point. “Just make damn well sure it doesn’t happen again.” The picture of Sirus’s beautiful body and the hard intensity of his face materialized like a specter in front of Grey’s eyes, making him hunger for sweaty, entwined bodies and hot, openmouthed kisses. With a start, the image turned more graphic and Grey saw himself tangled on that quilt with Sirus, only this time, Grey felt almost more than saw himself turn over, spread himself open, and beg Sirus for the fucking of his life.

  Grey spun around, his heart pounding and legs shaking like a newborn colt.

  What the hell was wrong with him? Grey did not bottom.

  Ever.

  Chapter Three

  “Oh, yeah, yeah…” Grey dug the side of his face into the mattress and thrust his ass up with every rough shove down of Sirus’s cock. “Fuck me, man, fuck me hard!” In answer, Sirus grabbed Grey’s hips and drove his huge length home, ripping Grey wide open and exposing his weakness in every way. “Ahh!” Grey jerked, suddenly scared to take it—and nearly hacked his finger off when he snapped out of his fantasy and found himself standing in the kitchen trying to slice a tomato.

  Cursing for real this time, Grey threw the knife in the sink and stuck his finger in his mouth, his sandwich forgotten. He glanced at his watch as he made his way to the bathroom for some antiseptic and gauze, stunned to see it was nearly six o’clock. He had started making that sandwich almost an hour ago, but like all day today, his thoughts kept returning to Sirus, pulling him into a daydream that felt a whole hell of a lot like a nightmare.

  I don’t take a fucking. Hell, he didn’t even give them anymore.

  Walking out of the shower this morning, Grey had psyched himself up to stare Sirus down and face what happened earlier this morning, refusing to hide from the man just because they saw each other jerk off. Only, Grey came out of the bathroom, with a speech all prepared, and Sirus was nowhere to be found. Grey figured on any one of a dozen possibilities why the other man might be out, and he didn’t sweat having to put off the uncomfortable conversation. Now, nearly a dozen hours later with no sign of Sirus, Grey wondered if his Peeping Tom act hadn’t run the guy out of the cabin for good.

  Bandage secured around his index finger, Grey tore to Sirus’s bedroom and pushed his way inside, pulling dresser drawers and closet doors open, searching for clothes, only to find empty space after empty space, where at least a sweater or a pair of jeans ought to be.

  “Fuck.” Grey turned in a circle, burying his hands in his hair. “I ran him off.”

  Great. The man would rather live in a cabin with no running water than risk Grey spying on him again. Perfect. Just perfect. His sister would kill him.

  Grey rounded to the mirror and leaned in, bracing his hands on the dresser. “No, she won’t,” he talked to his reflection, “because you’re going to go over to Sirus’s cabin and fix this mess you started.” He noted the wildness in his eyes and the disarray of his hair, and quickly straightened, forcing himself to breathe normally. “Get control of the situation, Greyson.” He combed his hair into order with his fingers. “Don’t be a pussy.

  Do it now, before it gets out of hand.”

  Taking another few breaths to calm the chaos that often tried to edge its way into his world, Grey closed the closet and all of the drawers he’d opened, grabbed his coat off the hook by the front door, and went in search of his runaway roommate.

  Grey killed the motorboat’s engine just before reaching Sirus’s dock. At least, he hoped it was Sirus’s dock. Sirus had said “the cabin across the lake” last night during Grey’s dinner interrogation, so he hoped the guy hadn’t actually been speaking in more general terms that might include the cabins on the east and west side of the water.

  He tied the boat off and hoisted himself onto the dock, shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and trudged up the sloping land to a cabin that appeared slightly smaller than his did. As Grey got closer, the thrashing sounds of Guns-n-Roses Welcome to the Jungle hit his ears, drawing out a chuckle. Yeah, Grey figured he had the right place. Sirus Wilder just seemed like an old-school rock music kind of guy.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, Grey rapped a sharp knock on the door and leaned his weight back on his heels to wait. The music didn’t die and nobody answered, so, after a minute, Grey gave it another go, and then one more, to no answer. He tried the doorknob, not terribly surprised to find it unlocked.

  “Hello?” he called out, taking only a few steps inside. “Sirus? It’s Grey.”

  Nothing but the continued music greeted him. G-n-R moved on to the next track on the CD, or possibly a tape or record. He doubted it was an iPod set up. Sirus struck Grey as a throwback in a lot of ways, although he didn’t quite know why he put that label on the man.

  “Sirus?” Not getting any response, Grey went ahead and shut the door behind him before more cold air swept inside. A living room sat to his left, done in warm mossy greens and deep midnight blues, with touches of brown leather. A brick fireplace dominated the sidewall.

  He followed the split-log wall to his right until he reached an opening, pausing to peek his head in what he knew would be the kitchen. Dark woods somehow made the area look cozy rather than dank or cave-like, and a multi-colored woven rug sat under a table with two chairs, brightening the small space.

  Grey turned around. “Sirus? Are you here?” He made one final attempt to make his presence known, leaving nothing to chance as he cut across the living room to an opening on the backside of the cabin. He entered a short hallway with two doors, the first one the bathroom, the second Sirus’s bedroom. Averting his eyes as quickly as he could, Grey purposely noted nothing more than the tartan plaid blanket and a pile of pillows covered in snow-white fabric before whipping his head back out and making a beeline for the front door. He did not need to have a complete visual of where Sirus Wilder laid that stunning body of his to sleep every night.

  The music continued to blast, so Grey loped down the steps and circled the cabin, following the wall
until he reached the back. A large, open shed loomed some twenty-five feet away. Light shone through the thrown open double doors and, as Grey got close enough to peek inside, he changed his mind about his temporary roommate yet again.

  A dozen mechanic’s lights hung from various points in the ceiling, casting the entire area in warm yellow lighting. Perfectly aligned plank flooring and equally well-constructed walls and roof stepped this shed up a dozen levels from slipshod to a serious workspace.

  In addition to a buzz saw, power tools and other machinery also filled a small portion of the area. Grey processed huge hunks of wood, stone and sheets of metal lining the back wall. That all got a cursory glance from him, but then he shifted and took in the area at the far end of the right wall and almost gasped.

  Holy fuck.

  Three stunning pieces of sculpture took up the right-back area of the workspace.

  Each sculpture combined abstract ideas with what was clearly the human form to create works of stunning beauty. There were other more literal pieces as well, some life-size, others smaller. Various canvases and boards of carved wood leaned here and there, taking over the back portion of the large space.

  Holy fuck.

  Sirus wasn’t building shelves in this workroom of his. The man was an artist.

  And right now—Grey shifted his focus again and breathed through the vision standing before him—that artist worked at a table in the center of the room, his back to the open doors, and no shirt in sight.

  Holy fuck, again.

  Grey curled his hands at his sides, itching to run his fingers over the thick ropes of muscle that tapered down to a snug pair of jeans encasing a tight ass and long, muscled legs. Dark hair clung to Sirus’s neck, wet with sweat that ran in enticing rivulets down his back where it dampened the waistband of his jeans. Without a belt, the waist rode low, making Grey’s dick twitch as he imagined yanking them down, bending Sirus over his worktable, and plowing that firm ass until Sirus screamed with the need to come.

  Moving into the workspace, Grey spotted a drop of sweat starting right at the top of Sirus’s spine. Grey zeroed in on it with the goal of lapping it up with his tongue before it disappeared inside Sirus’s jeans. Then, since he would already be on his knees, Grey might just have to take a taste of what those tight ass cheeks kept hidden; then he would turn Sirus around, smash his face into the guy’s crotch and get high on the musky smell of man he hadn’t felt overtake his nostrils for far too long. Grey could practically taste the salty perspiration bathing his tongue.

  Crash!

  His mind fully on licking Sirus all over, Grey tripped over a wire cutting across the workroom and took a nosedive right for the floor, just thinking fast enough to throw his hands out and brace his fall. The heels of his hands took the impact, and then slid in a layer of sawdust and wood shavings, sending his chin right into the floor with a skull-jarring thud.

  Shit.

  “Shit.” Sirus spun around and dropped to the floor beside Grey. “You scared the hell out of me.” He put his hands on Grey’s shoulders, slid them along his arms, then touched over his back, feeling him all over, sending a shock of pure awareness through Grey that even two layers of clothing and a humiliating pratfall could not mask. “Are you all right?”

  Heat burned a fast path up Grey’s neck to his face. “Nothing disappearing into a hole forever wouldn’t cure,” he mumbled under his breath.

  Sirus stretched his upper body and reached for the shelf under his worktable, pushing a button on a small tape deck that killed the rock music. Sudden, absolute silence took over the space, making Grey aware of just how loud the music had been. Right now, he wished for the pounding to his eardrums back in a flash.

  Sirus slid right back to Grey’s side. “What did you say?” He put his hands under Grey’s armpits and hauled Grey to his feet, as if Grey’s six-feet, one hundred ninety-five pound frame were nothing. Sirus started dusting off Grey’s jacket. “I’m sorry.” He went down Grey’s shoulders and arms and then turned Grey’s hands over, palms face up. “I like the music loud while I work and I didn’t hear what you said. Oh, here,” he took Grey’s elbow and guided him to a sink tucked into the front corner of the room, “your palms are a little raw. You should wash them off, just to be safe.” Sirus turned the water on and reached under the oversized tub, coming up with a thick, white bar of soap.

  “Thanks.” Grey took the offered soap and tried to control the rushing tingle as Sirus’s callused fingers grazed his. “Uh, yeah, I didn’t say anything of value before.” He tore his attention away and put it on washing his hands, careful to keep his wrapped finger dry. “Just cursing myself for tripping.”

  “Sorry about that.” Sirus reached to his left, hooked a shirt in his fingers, and dragged it to his side. He untwisted the faded black material and put the shirt on, but left it hanging open. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the table next to the sink, the picture of masculine confidence and cool that Grey usually always possessed.

  “It’s okay.” It grated on Grey’s nerves that Sirus affected calm so easily while he couldn’t seem to find it in himself when he was near this man.

  Clearly unaware of the turmoil going on inside Grey, Sirus smiled and raised a brow.

  “It’s just me working in here, and I’m to the point where I instinctually know where everything is so that I don’t trip or step into anything. I didn’t know you were there or I would have warned you about the extension wire.”

  Grey raised a brow right back. “I think I’ll live.” He turned off the water, dried his hands on a threadbare towel hanging on a hook above the basin, and then held out his palms in Sirus’s direction. “See? They’re not even scraped. Just a little bit red.”

  Sirus chuckled, the sound rumbling up from deep inside his body. “Glad to hear it.”

  He gave Grey a half smile that somehow transformed the devastating hardness of his face. “I’d hate to have to explain to your sister that I’d caused you injury on your first vacation in years.”

  Grey snapped his stare off Sirus’s smile, and narrowed his gaze. “What the hell do you mean by that?” His voice dropped into low, clipped territory as his mind started spinning. “Did you know I was coming here? Did Kelsie set me up?” Grey glanced down at the sink, and then pushed right into Sirus’s space, bumping his chest into Sirus’s crossed arms.

  Storm clouds brewed in Sirus’s eyes, but Grey couldn’t care and didn’t dare back down. He leaned into Sirus until he had the bigger man bowed back over the table behind him. “You fucking have water. I just washed my hands. You obviously didn’t need to stay at my place last night. What the hell is going on here?”

  The clouds erupted and Sirus moved fast, grabbing Grey’s upper arms and spinning them around so that Grey’s spine dug into the workbench this time. “What the hell is going on here,” Sirus’s low, intimidating octave rivaled Grey’s, “is that you just called me a liar.” He grasped the table on either side of Grey’s hips, trapping him in place. “You sure you want to do that, friend?”

  Heat lightning charged the air around them, making the workroom feel like a sauna in the middle of snow. Every inch of Grey’s skin hummed with vitality, something he hadn’t felt inside him in forever. He didn’t dare let his body shiver and give himself away. He looked Sirus in the eyes, and didn’t flinch. “You take a good hard look at me, Wilder,” Grey breathed so heavily their chests touched with every intake of breath, “and you decide if you see anything close to a man who can be intimated living inside me.”

  “Maybe you’re not intimidated by me…” Sirus broke eye contact and turned his head down, perusing, just as Grey challenged him to do. It felt like forever, and Grey had to work like the devil to control the shiver that wanted to work its way through him as he wondered if this man would find him lacking. Sirus finally put his full attention back on Grey’s face, and deep charcoal swirled in the depths of his gray eyes. “…but you damn well want something male living inside you.” Cool
confidence emanated from Sirus’s very pores, and it didn’t even look as if his heart pounded very fast. “I think we established that around five a.m. this morning.”

  Grey never played from a position of defense. That was a losing strategy. Emotions long unused spiraled nearly out of control in him though, and he attacked before thinking, before assessing, before predicting the response he would get from his opponent. “And maybe you want it just as much,” he taunted, “which is why you tucked tail and ran home.”

  White hot fire flared in Sirus’s eyes, and Grey knew he had misread his opponent.

  A fatal mistake.

  Chapter Four

  Sirus took in the arrogance surrounding Greyson Cole like a full-body cloak and wanted to punch the bastard.

  “You fucking smug suit,” he said, his voice whisper soft, but deadly. He fumed inside and had no idea how he managed to keep his outward appearance so still and calm.

  “You set your sister up with your best friend for a week in your cabin, and you automatically think she’s gonna turn around and do the same thing to you?” Awareness flared in Grey’s eyes, and Sirus chalked up one point for the home team. “That’s right, Kelsie is my friend, and she did tell me how she and John ended up together. And while she might want to return the favor one day, what in the hell makes you think for one second I would agree to do it? I never even saw your face before yesterday afternoon.

  Maybe you go around fucking everything with a tight ass that likes cock, but that isn’t me.” Sirus let his gaze drop and linger over the fine lines of Grey’s body that no amount of winter clothing could hide, and he cursed under his breath at the waste of such a thing of perfection attached to such an asshole of a person. “I actually like to know the person I’m screwing, and I like to think they don’t,” his focus came back up and locked right on Grey’s eyes, “believe I’m a liar when we’re doing it.”