Not His Kiss to Take (25 page)

And oh yes, Jamie knew it. “I-I’m sorry, Evan—I don’t know why I said that—”

“
Promise me, Jamie—no one else. Promise me! You’ll never do that with anyone else. Never ask. Only me—no one else, not ever. It’s far too dangerous. Even with me, it’s too dangerous, and I’m a doctor.” Evan squeezed him, arms shaking. “Promise me.”

Not like anyone else would make him yearn for that—only Evan. Evan was safe. “I promise.”

“
Good boy,” Evan said and then sighed deeply with relief.

“
But that was fucking hot,” he rasped. Jamie turned his head, relaxed and feeling all floaty and sated, his mind buzzing from the most amazing high, and almost did the unthinkable. Almost broke the unwritten law.

He almost kissed Evan.

And Jamie shook with the knowledge of how badly he wanted to.

Chapter
Twelve

Most of the snow from the latest, and hopefully last, blizzard had melted, leaving behind lake-size puddles and mounds of slush. From the elegant lobby of Evan’s building, Jamie watched the cars go by, wheels spraying up arcs of freezing water. Some of the stupider people on the sidewalk got soaked by icy tsunamis. What a bunch of morons. They should learn to move their asses farther off to the side if they didn’t want to walk around dressed as muddy popsicles. Suckers.

Sure, lady, like that umbrella’s gonna save ya.
Nope. It didn’t.

Just ’cause the temperature was above freezing didn’t mean the day was all sunshine and butterflies. More like cloudy, dark, and dismal. Evan Harrison kind of weather. The doc had seized the storm-riddled opportunity to get some chores done, namely shopping, because he hadn’t given up on his campaign to fatten Jamie up. Hopefully, there’d be red meat in the offing today. Something that once mooed would fix the persistent cravings.

Jamie politely declined to go along. Nothing but cranky, hacking, smelly, wet people at this time of year, all of them out to spray you with germs. Plus, it could be…dangerous.
Quit being stupid, jackass. Nobody’s gonna hurt you; you’re safe.
Sure. Like it was supposedly safe to take a leak in a public restroom? Jamie sighed.
A freak event—you know it’ll never happen again
. Except he couldn’t make himself believe that yet, not one hundred percent.

Thank the Dude above, Evan had been there that night. Jamie’d never been particularly lucky in life, but Evan finding him—saving him—cancelled out all debts owed to him, past, present and future.

Evan.

Holy crap.
Evan.
With a groan, Jamie slumped against the cold window, knees gone weak.
What the hell am I doing?
Still didn’t know. Likely never would. Jamie only knew he didn’t care. Not once had he ever looked at another man and wanted to jump his bones. With Evan, though, he couldn’t keep his hands off him. It was so dirty. So amazing. And sleeping with him—fuck.
Nice.
They always woke tangled around each other somehow; more often than not, it was Evan curled over or around him, protective even in sleep. Nobody’d ever given a shit about him like that before. Jamie loved it.

But when’s he gonna get sick of me?

Soon, probably.
I’m just a dumb kid, and he’s a fucking doctor. Just ’cause he likes doing the nasty with me doesn’t mean anything—he’s just a depraved perv-o. What could he possibly see in me anyway? I’m a waiter, for fuck’s sake, sometimes even the lowly busboy—well, until they fired me for not showing up. And even when I’m done with college, I’ll still be nothing compared to him.

I should kiss him while I still have the chance.

Not kissing Evan was driving him nuts. But kissing another man—like that—was so…
gay
.
And I’m not.
Only it was getting harder and harder to resist. Kisses haunted his dreams at night. During the day, he fantasized about it and stared obsessively at Evan’s mouth every chance he got. He’d almost blown it the other day after Evan licked his cum off his mouth. Christ, that was hot. The man made pervyness sexier than hell.
Now I wanna lick my cum off his face.

Maybe I’m turning gay? Or maybe I’m so far in the closet, way in the back with the moldy shoes, that I don’t even know I’m in the fucking closet?

No. I’m not gay.

It’s just Evan. He’s…special. A one-time-only deal. A genie in the bottle that only grants you one wish. The winning ticket to paradise.

Using Evan’s spare key, one handed over without Evan giving it a second thought, Jamie let himself back into the penthouse. Beating Dr. Obsessive-Compulsive to it, he’d already tidied up what little needed tidying. The place felt so goddamn empty without Evan in it that he’d gone downstairs to gawk out the window, safe behind the security glass. How the hell did Evan stand living alone all the time?

The phone had rung maybe once—no, twice. Some guy named Louis called, and Evan had a hush-hush conversation with him, but he’d had been tense and agitated during that call, so that dude was maybe not a friend. Or maybe Louis was the infamous kinky, enema-loving ex? Didn’t seem like it, but what the hell did Jamie know? The other call had been someone named Joseph, and Jamie guessed him to be another doctor, because it was all medical blah, blah, big words, blah, blah.

Back in Bremerton, Jamie would have had more calls than that in one day. Half a day. Ten minutes on the weekend.

Maybe all of Evan’s friends had ditched him ’cause of the headaches? Some friends. Bunch of assholes. You stuck by your friends; you didn’t ditch ’em when they got sick. Fuck, even Derek wouldn’t do that, and he was a total dickhead.

Jamie put the key back in the desk drawer in Evan’s study. Degrees, awards, and certificates covered one entire wall, each one beautifully framed. He’d seen them before, but now he really took a minute to look at them. What a waste. All those years of school… Must’ve gone on forever. All that hard work, only for Evan to lose it in the end. Shame he couldn’t be a doctor anymore, since he obviously loved it. Talk about un-fucking-fair.

But Evan hadn’t had a migraine since Jamie had been there. Interesting.

Maybe he was getting better and it wasn’t just remission? Could he, maybe one day, be a doctor again? Wasn’t like he had to toil away up to his armpits in bloody guts in some noisy, germy hospital either—who’d wanna do that in the first place? Ugh. Grosser than a restaurant.

Evan should build an office of his own and only work when he felt up to it, like on his good days.

What if he’s scared?

Yeah, right. Evan wasn’t scared of anything.

Jamie straightened the frame of the fanciest certificate, the special doctor one with all the Latin words, ’cause Lord knew, Evan didn’t like things that weren’t straight. Because he was bent enough all by himself.

Ha-ha, I’m so funny, I kill myself.

I should tell him to fight for what he wants, since his douche-bag friends didn’t stick around to help him. I should dare him to try again. He’s so competitive; he loves to win. He could fall for a good, well-timed taunt.

And I should kiss him while I still have the chance. ’Cause I really want to.

I really like him.

Chapter
Thirteen

Guilt and unease took turns crawling up Evan’s back. Twisted handles dug into his palms as he flung the reusable grocery bags on the counter, his mind centered on an unexamined issue, a niggling worry that refused to go away. He should’ve made Jamie go shopping with him, just to get him out and see daylight.

What the hell are you doing? Keeping him here with you, living as a virtual shut-in? He belongs in the sunshine, belongs with his friends and family, not trapped inside the walls of your sunless prison.
Since he hadn’t bought anything frozen, Evan left the bags of food where they fell and went looking for Jamie.
He needs to become part of the world again—you know it. It’s time to let him go. Time for him to fly.

The guestroom sat vacant, as did Evan’s bedroom—
their
bedroom. Funny how quickly he’d come to think of it as
theirs
. The study also loomed dark and empty. No sound came from the living room, no blaring television or music came from the recessed speakers, but that was where Evan spotted Jamie sitting on the floor, arms clasped tightly around his legs, cheek resting on his knees.

The blinds were slanted away from the entrance, partly open to shine dimly, but the slats were turned so the light wouldn’t bother Evan and trigger an episode. A thoughtful consideration—Jamie already knew him that well, just as he knew Jamie enjoyed graphic novels and games where you blew stuff up.

Small slices of pale sunlight kissed Jamie’s flaxen hair, shimmering softly and turning his skin a luminous white. Keeping silent and pausing midstep, Evan watched him for the sheer joy of it. And to save up a few memories for the tough times ahead. Jamie didn’t appear to notice him as he sat completely still, a rarity, looking the very picture of a lost soul.

Do no harm.

Despite his failings as both man and a physician, Evan had always tried to follow that simplest and yet most profound of edicts. How had he managed to fail so miserably, so completely?

You’ve harmed that boy.

No denying what was true. He had. Not purposefully, no, never that, and not with malice, not with forethought, but he’d caused lasting harm nonetheless. Keeping Jamie locked in an unhealthy relationship with him was wrong on so many levels.
He’s not gay.
Allowing him to hide away in the house, wrapped in his blanket of fear was, at its core, harmful. Not helping him face those fears?
An act of cowardice.
Sharing a bed with him?
Negligent.

They should’ve taken his license away, should’ve stripped him down to nothing—because that original act of negligence had bred to spawn another.

A brief, brighter ray of sunshine shot through the blinds and bathed Jamie’s fair skin in light, highlighting his youth, his ethereal beauty.
I never meant to hurt you, beautiful boy. I just…
What?
I was…selfish. I wanted—I needed, God I needed—and I took.

I’m sorry.

Evan’s eyes burned with unshed tears of remorse. A heated lump of guilt stuck in his throat. Evan had never wanted to learn how the first step toward redemption would be the hardest. Each step thereafter pricked his conscience more. A few feet from Jamie’s huddled form, he stopped and knelt down, joining him on the floor.

Rolling his head on his knees and propping his face on his other cheek, Jamie faced him. A slow, sweet smile broke out on his soft red lips. “Hi,” he said.

“
Hi, yourself,” Evan replied. His voice quavered a little from that burning lump of guilt.

“
Do I need to put some groceries away? I feel kinda bad eating you out of house and home.”

The claws of guilt took another swipe at him. “Don’t.”

The sweet smile softened but remained shining in Jamie’s eyes. “I’ve been thinking.”

A stab of hurt pulsed and squeezed deep in his chest, and Evan closed his eyes.
He has to leave you—accept it. Help him do it. Push him away. Set him free!
“About?” Not trusting his voice, Evan stuck to one-word answers.

“
You,” he said, his smile curving wider. “Just ’cause you can’t work at the hospital anymore doesn’t mean you can’t still help people.”

Help? I don’t help. I harm.

“
You could volunteer at clinics and stuff like that.” Jamie raised both brows in question. “Not as cool as the hospital, I know, but those people really need someone like you. Someone who doesn’t look down on them, think they’re nothing ’cause they got no money. And you could go only when you felt up to it. When you don’t have a headache. I’m sure they’d be happy with whatever help you could give them.”