Bonds of Attraction (Full Length Erotic Romance Novel) (14 page)

We remained silent. Leon studied the
tombstone. I watched him, wondering just what he was thinking. Something in our
conversation had provoked him to come here. I had struck out at Leon, hoping to
break through his tough exterior with my words, but I had not expected to be
this successful. The victory felt empty and hollow. This person, Kevin Bowers,
was someone important to Leon. It was the anniversary of his death and Leon sat
before his tombstone, crying in the rain.

Lightning spread across the sky. I looked up
and waited for the sound of thunder. It came a few seconds later, telling us
the center of the storm was not too far away. Leon didn’t notice any of it, his
eyes still focused on Kevin Bowers’s tombstone.

I gently placed my hand on Leon’s shoulder
and he looked up at me again. His hair clung to his face in matted clumps, rain
pouring from the end of each one. I got my feet and extended my hand to Leon.
He took it and I pulled him up. When he stood before me, it looked as if he had
jumped in a pool. Everything on him was soaked and dripping. Just what had I
said that had this effect on Leon? Despite my quickly dissipating anger, seeing
him so profoundly hurt sent jolts of regret through my heart.

I turned and walked back up the path. The cab
was waiting patiently for us, and I was thankful that he hadn’t driven off. I
opened the door for Leon and he dejectedly got in the cab. I followed and
closed the door behind me.

The cab driver turned around and looked
disapprovingly at our dripping masses in his backseat. I gave him a soaking wet
twenty and told him my address. Leon looked like the epitome of a broken heart;
I needed to get him somewhere safe and clean him up. It felt like my
responsibility. After all, wasn’t it my fault that he ended up in this state?
Even if I asked him right now where he lived, I didn’t think he would be able
to give a coherent answer.

Something cried out in me that it was a
terrible idea to bring him home but I stifled the thought. It wasn’t breaking
any rules to bring a client to my home. Yes, it was unorthodox and I hadn’t had
to resort to this kind of thing before, but Leon Christensen wasn’t a one night
stand. I didn’t bring one night stands home, but I could bring a client home.

The rationalization stuck. I’d get him to my
place, clean him up, maybe even feed him, and get him on his way. I could build
some trust between us. Maybe I could even end our business relationship on a
more positive note.

Leon laid back against the seat, looking off
into the distance. I felt a chill as my clothes stuck to my skin and I leaned
back. My eyes closed and I let the bouncing of the cab overtake any thoughts I
had.

The cab pulled up to my place. Water dripped
from the end of Leon’s chin in tiny droplets. He looked straight ahead,
maintaining his silence. I leaned over him and handed the driver the fare plus
an additional ten dollar bill. I looked over to Leon and motioned for him to
follow me.

The rain had let up slightly, but it still
had not stopped completely. The sky was pitch black and the reflections of the
street lamps twinkled off of every surface. We ran up the path to escape the
unpleasant weather and I fumbled with my keys for a minute, feeling awkward as
I assumed Leon was watching me. When I opened the door and stumbled in, Leon
followed casually.

He took off his shoes and they fell to the
ground with a wet smack. Every step he took left a watermark in the shape of
his foot. When he noticed this, he took off his socks and stuffed them in his
soaked shoes. Barefoot, he stood in my living room, silent and stoic.

I kicked off my shoes carelessly and hurried
into the bathroom. I grabbed an armful of towels and returned to the living
room, Leon still standing placidly. A forlorn look adorned his face, as though
the tombstone stood right before his eyes.

I handed him a towel and he nodded politely,
but still said nothing. He held the towel at his side, making no move to even
attempt to dry himself out. My heart cried out at his display of sadness, as
though he was a broken toy and couldn’t even begin to be played with again. I
took a towel and grabbed his head with it, drying his hair off roughly like a
mother would a son who refused to do it himself.

“You’re gonna have to deal with it,” I said
soothingly, breaking the silence. “You can’t stay wet like this.” I kept my voice
as soft as possible, almost melodious in its tone.

Leon said nothing. He made no move to get out
of his clothes or to dry himself off. I studied him. Leon Christensen just
looked lost.

I unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. The
fabric dripped on my hardwood floor, gathering into a little pool of rainwater.
Soon, Leon’s dress shirt was unbuttoned. He lifted his arms and I gently took
it off. His undershirt was painted against his skin, clear from being soaked
with rainwater. I could see through to the muscles beneath the shirt.

I grabbed the bottom of the shirt and began
to peel it off of him. The back of my hands rubbed against his stomach. I
slowly lifted the shirt, silently reveling in the feel of his toned stomach
muscles against the back of my fingers. I badly wanted to flip my hands around
and grab him, feel his skin with my hands and rub my fingers through the
caverns of his muscles.

With the shirt off, I placed a towel around
his shoulders. It was slightly chilly in my apartment, and with us soaked, it
was even colder. The towel would warm him and protect him from getting sick.

Leon Christensen shirtless lived up to every
expectation. The skin pulled tight against rigid muscle; I could imagine his
strength was great. I had to warm him up, get him out of his wet clothes and
into something more suitable, but more than that I wanted to just look at this
beautiful creature before me. Even with his hair matted down, his face wracked
with sorrow, and his shoulders slumped in defeat, he was breathtaking.

My eyes lowered to his pants. The grey slacks
were black from the rainwater’s onslaught. I paused to consider how to
continue. If I took off Leon’s pants, he might consider this to be a direct
attempt at coming on to him. I mean, how could he not? Wet or not, a woman
taking off a man’s pants in her living room was hard to interpret as anything
else but sexual.

Yet my worries dissipated when I really
looked at Leon. He was so sullen that it was hard to imagine him taking
anything as a pass. If only he would take some initiative, then I wouldn’t have
to undress him. But it was already clear that something in the cemetery had
affected him deeply. This was a man who was dealing with something serious.
Kevin Bowers’s death meant something to Leon Christensen. Something
significant.

I took off Leon’s belt. It was a fine leather
belt that was probably ruined from the rain. My fingers worked through the
loops, knowing that they were so close to his crotch. If I let my hand fall
just a few inches, I could wrap them around him and know the answer to the
question he had asked me in his office.

“Would you like to see just how big my dick
is?” Leon had asked.

Now, unbuttoning Leon Christensen’s pants, I
found myself not caring about any of that. Yes, this man before me was an
unbelievable statue of physical perfection, worthy of being cast in stone for
the rest of history, but more than anything now, I just wanted to hug him. Tell
him that everything was going to be ok and console him. The wet clothes were
not an object to be overcome to get him naked, they were an obstacle to be
removed for his well-being.

I looked up at Leon and unzipped his pants.
My fingers were unbearably close to his cock, a thin layer of his underwear
separating our embrace. I lifted my hands and found the sides of his pants, all
the while looking past Leon’s shoulders, not making eye contact or avoiding it.
Leon’s face was stoic, without clue as how he felt about what was happening.

I pulled down and the pants dropped into a
soggy pile by his feet. I pushed against Leon’s exposed chest with one extended
finger and he stepped back. I knelt down and picked up the clothes, my heart
racing as my face grew closer to his crotch.

I fought every instinct to look. If I saw
that he had an erection, I wouldn’t know how to respond. Would I just let
myself embrace the arousal and let him take me? Or would I be offended by a
seemingly natural response to a woman undressing a man? My mind was racing in
every direction, unwilling to let me decide how I would proceed. So rather than
add to my confusion, I refused to look.

I scooped up the clothes in my arms. Knelt
down, I saw something move next to me. Looking down at Leon’s feet, I saw that
his underwear was bunched around his feet. He had taken off his underwear.

Leon Christensen stood completely naked only
a few feet away. If I pivoted my head, I would be face to face with his exposed
cock. I was already down on my knees before the man I had fantasized about
numerous times. A man who was sexier than any other man I had ever even seen
before, whether in person or in the media. My heart skipped a beat, jumped in
my chest, and raced on.

Leon stepped back from the underwear. I
reached over and grabbed them quickly, adding them to the pile in my arms. I
suddenly became aware of just how wet I was as I watched water drip from me
onto the ground.

I turned away from Leon as I rose, resolved
not to look at his nakedness in total. I badly wanted to drink him with my
eyes, let the sight of his body fill my eyes and burn itself into my memory,
but I held to my will. I walked away with the pile of clothes and felt my skin
cool as my wet clothes moved with my steps.

“I don’t have any clothes that will fit you,”
I said, my back to Leon. “Give me a minute.”

I walked into the bathroom and put the
clothes on a drying rack I had set up. These were high quality clothes,
probably best dry cleaned, so I couldn’t simply throw them in the dryer. It
would be a little while before Leon Christensen was clothed again.

I sighed, thinking of how long Leon was going
to be naked around me. What if my will breaks? It might be a question of when,
I thought. No, I would get him wrapped in a blanket and sit him beside the
fire, warming him. I would then bring the drying rack to the fire and he’d be
out of here in an hour, maybe two. I’d brew coffee and he’d walk out of my
place refreshed and thankful for my kindness.

I went into the closet in the hallway and
grabbed a large, soft blanket. When I returned to the living room, Leon stood
in the same place. My eyes rolled over his body quickly before I averted my
gaze. I felt a pang of panic strike at my heart; he was so beautiful. I wanted
to stare at him, adore him.

I threw the blanket over him quickly. I then
pulled the towel that was still on his shoulders out from under the blanket and
wrapped the blanket tightly around him. I breathed a sigh of relief that I
immediately regretted as I didn’t want Leon to know just how relieved I was for
him to be covered.

I walked over to the fireplace. I luckily had
a good amount of logs, easily enough to maintain a roaring fire all night. I
stacked the logs and looked around for the matches. Next to the logs, there was
a starter log and some matches. Admittedly, there was even a thing of lighter
fluid for when I was less than adequate at building the fire, but tonight I
hoped I wouldn’t have to resort to that in front of Leon.

I motioned him over to me, nodding my head
towards the fireplace.

“Here, come sit before the fireplace. It’ll
be a few minutes before it starts really heating up, but it’s best to get in
front of it now. I’ll bring out your clothes to and have them hang before the
fireplace so they can dry off quickly. You’ll be dry in no time.”

Leon walked over slowly, lowering his head as
he did. When he sat on the rug in front of the fireplace, the blanket wrapped
around him looked like robes of a praying monk. I smiled slightly and Leon
nodded at me, his first sign of communication since the cemetery.

I shivered. My wet clothes had only grown
colder as I began to build the fire and I realized now how I had put my own
needs second to Leon’s. My fingers were cold and numb, defying me as I tried to
work with the logs. When I raised a match, it shook in the open air. The first
match I struck went out, and when I went to strike another, Leon spoke.

“Go on,” he said quietly. It was so low that
I struggled to hear what he said. “Go put on some dry clothes. I’ll be fine for
a few minutes.”

His head rested against his arms as he stared
into the dead fireplace. I nodded in agreement, but Leon didn’t see.

I grabbed the towel that I had taken off of
Leon and dried my hair. I rubbed my hands feverishly and warmth returned to
them. My suit jacket was still soaked, and I took it off and tossed it on the ground
by our shoes.

My shirt stuck to my skin, translucent from
the rain. If Leon looked up now, he would see through to my chest. My hard
nipples poked against my now see-through bra. The curvature of my hips and the
shape of my breasts stood out against shadows cast by the overhead lights.

As I wrapped the towel around my upper body,
hiding my near-nakedness, I felt a hint of sadness that Leon hadn’t looked up
to me. I had wanted him to see me so naked, so exposed. Walking back over to
the fireplace, I knew that it was better that he had not seen me naked. If he
had seen me naked in such a fragile state, we’d be in each other’s arms in no
time.

My fingers, now slightly warmer, worked much
better with the fireplace. There was a process that I had to do before I could
light the fire and it was a welcome distraction from thinking about how close
Leon Christensen was to me, his perfect body only covered with a single
blanket.

First, I had to light a single piece of
paper. With the flute of the fireplace open, I shoved the burning paper up the
flute so that it would start to draw air. If I missed this crucial step, the
whole room would fill with smoke when I lit the fireplace. As I held up the
burning paper, I could feel Leon’s eyes on me. Bent over, I wondered if he was
studying my ass lustfully.

The fireplace began to draw air, the smoke
from the burning paper sucked up into the chimney. I then struck a match and
started to light the kindling that I had placed under the logs. Fire sparked
and danced from the kindling, cracks of burning wood filling the silence. I
blew on the kindling and watched the flames grow with every breath. Soon, the
logs began to burn and the fire roared before us.

Refreshing warmth pushed against my face. I
sat back a few feet from Leon, the warmth of the fire feeling wonderful against
my still-wet clothes. Leon stared into the fire, red and orange flames dancing
in his eyes.

“When I was thirteen, I was sent to a
boarding school in England. Kevin Bowers was a friend of mine.”

I listened carefully. Leon was speaking now,
slowly and quietly, but he was telling me something important. The fire cracked
and popped before us, filling the room with fresh warmth that felt good. The
mystery in the cemetery loomed in my mind. Kevin Bowers died today; Leon
Christensen was about to tell me why.