The Wrong Side of Right by Nya Rawlyns

Author:Nya Rawlyns [Rawlyns, Nya]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 1489583599
Amazon: B00D1FYDCW
Publisher: PubRight
Published: 2013-05-26T12:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Tony looked up from the computer and rubbed his eyes. He’d been glaring at columns of numbers for hours, jotting down notes, trying to make heads or tails of what the data was telling him. So far all he’d managed was the same kind of gut-level feeling that something wasn’t right.

He grumbled, “What the fuck is going on?”

“See what I mean, kid?”

“Jesus! Where did you come from?”

Somehow Caldwell had managed to get in the door, walk through the living room into the kitchen, leaving a half dozen plastic grocery bags on the counter, and then coming into the living room again to stand with his arms crossed and leaning against the counter.

Staring. At him.

In explanation, Caldwell said, “Sorry I’m late. We had a couple of rush jobs.” He moved back into the kitchen and unloaded the bags.

“Need help?”

“Yeah, put this stuff in the fridge, would ya?” He disappeared down the hall with an armload of toilet paper and bathroom products. When he returned Tony felt the man’s eyes boring lasers into his ass as he bent over, stocking up the bottom drawer freezer.

Caldwell said, “Help yourself to whatever. I grabbed a bite after work.” He stood in the narrow space between the kitchen and living room, blocking Tony’s path.

“Uh, thanks. We had a late lunch.”

The man made him nervous the way he watched, with intense interest, not so much like a predator, not like Tank who’d measured him up and wrapped him in a package of lust so gritty and raw and domineering he’d blown whatever free will he’d owned and submitted. Without reservations.

He wasn’t sure what Caldwell expected of him, if anything. The man had the same edgy violence, the same sheen of lust coating his skin, his eyes, his mouth. He was a bundle of nervous energy, contained but not because he controlled it or used it to stalk his prey. It was more like he was assessing him, trying to figure out how to build a wall to keep them apart.

Whatever was going through his head, it broadcast like fear.

Fear Tony could relate to all too well.

…stop expecting others to open the door for you…

Swallowing hard, Tony nervously rubbed his thighs, the motion tightening the already stretched-to-obscene fabric across his growing arousal. Caldwell held his ground, his eyes sweeping the gold-tipped spikes on Tony’s gelled hair to the form-fitting tee-shirt and the sprayed-on jeans, nodding slightly, giving nothing away.

Tony said, “Uh, I don’t know how to thank you…” but stopped midway because he really wanted to ask … why, why are you doing this? What do you expect from me?

When Caldwell said nothing, Tony stammered, “We got some other stuff, too,” choking back the do you like it, afraid to engage the man, terrified he might indeed like it, far too much. Because what Aiden Caldwell thought mattered, and from the first minute he’d met the snarly, thorny man, he’d tiptoed around his attraction to him, using the man’s irritating personality as an excuse not to allow himself the freedom to hope.

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