Snowbound (5 page)

"Okay and Hayden, don't ever do that to me again."

"I'm sorry, baby." Hayden hesitated. "I love you."

"I love you too, honeybun and don't forget it." Julianna hung up.

Hayden put his cell on the counter. He was the biggest shit that ever lived. He listened. The scraping had stopped and Dylan had gone, leaving perfect silence behind.

CHAPTER FOUR

Hayden shifted restlessly on the couch, his ass hurting when he moved. He had called his partners at work and told them he had no idea if he could make it back today. Then he'd emptied the clean plates from the dishwasher and stacked the breakfast dishes in it, wiping the table and counters with a cloth. It had been two hours now and still no phone call. Surely Dylan knew the state of the roads by now. He was fully dressed and ready to go the moment the deputy gave the word.
That's right, run away, you coward.

Boots lay curled on the opposite couch, deeply asleep. Hayden sighed, sinking back, taking some deep breaths. When he closed his eyes he saw himself on his back, Dylan driving into him, making Hayden spill like no one ever had before. Oh God, what was he going to do? How could he go home a faithless liar to Julianna and how could he ever forget how last night had made him come alive?

His cell vibrated suddenly in his lap and he snatched it up. The number on the readout was unknown to him. "Hello?"

"Hi, it's Dylan. I got your car towed to the garage. They're working on it now. "

"Great."

"Yeah. Listen, the road to the highway's completely closed by snow."

Hayden's heart sank.

"Looks like you're going to be my guest for one more night."

"You need to find me a hotel." Hayden's tone sounded panicked to himself, as well it might. He knew what would happen if he stayed another night with Dylan.

"There aren't any. The Iceman Festival runs five days and no one can leave anyway. Sorry."

Hayden was silent.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Hayden breathed out slowly.

"Look, I'll try and knock off early, okay?"

"Sure."

"Rest your leg." Dylan hung up.

Hayden leaned back, holding his cell.
Shit
. If he'd left today at least he could have called Dylan a one-night stand. But tonight, one would become two. He wouldn't have any willpower to resist. He knew that.

****

Sometime before four, as the murky white sky darkened, Hayden's leg started to hurt him. He took a couple of his painkillers, lay back on Dylan's couch with a cushion propped beneath his knee, and tried to breathe slowly and deeply through the pain. He had been reading a novel off Dylan's shelf—
The Alchemist
by Paolo Coelho—but now he placed it on his lap, unable to concentrate with the needle-like stabs into his calf.

After half an hour, the tablets had barely taken the edge off. He reached into his bag and took out the amitriptyline. He shouldn't, he knew that. They were supposed to be for night and he didn't want Dylan to find him drugged up and drowsy when he got home, but what was a person supposed to do? Hayden wasn't a martyr to his pain. He believed in dealing with it quickly as best he could and after seven years it was a pain he was sick to death of dealing with.

He swallowed the tablet with the glass of water he'd left on the coffee table. He tried to calm himself but removing his mind from the pain only brought him back to what he was doing here and what had happened on this couch last night, right where he lay. Oh God, never had infidelity entered his head, even as a concept. Never had he looked at another woman. He'd looked at another man, of course, but never once taken steps to bring fantasy to fruition. Why now? Why Dylan?

Because you had the opportunity
, a sly voice whispered. But he knew it was more than that. He wouldn't have done it with just any man. The man he'd finally succumb to, break his wedding vows for, had to be something special.

And he was.

Hayden squeezed his eyes shut and dug his nails into his palms as he remembered hot skin sliding against his own, lips burning him alive. Oh God, he had to have it again, just once.

****

Dylan arrived back with a bag of vegetables for dinner and a bottle of wine. He told himself the wine wasn't to loosen Hayden up into the kind of pliable state he'd gotten him into last night, but he wasn't sure he believed it.

He opened the front door, put his bags down, and took off his boots, then discarded his waterproof pants, his jacket, scarf, hat. The house was cosy and his cheeks and nose started to sting as the heat caressed them. He crossed the living room, stopping when he saw Hayden stretched out on the couch, asleep. A book lay face down on his chest. There were a couple of packets of painkillers on the carpet beside him.

His leg again. What must it be like to live with the kind of chronic pain Hayden did, at his age? It would no doubt last the rest of his life. Dylan knew he wouldn't be able to deal with it himself. It would drive him insane. He walked quietly past Hayden and took the bags into the kitchen.

****

Sounds of movement brought Hayden out of his snooze. Unless burglars these days broke in and started chopping vegetables in the kitchen as well as looting, then Dylan must be back. He stretched, groaning at the flash of fire that shot through his leg.

Dylan appeared at the kitchen door, still wearing his uniform. "Hey."

"Hello."

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Looks like it was for the best that you didn't go today. A long drive wouldn't have done your leg any favours, I'm guessing."

"I suppose not," Hayden muttered. He adjusted the pillow under his leg, wincing.

Dylan approached the couch. "Does massage help?"

Hayden shrugged. "Sometimes."

"Scoot over, then." Dylan perched on the couch and started rolling Hayden's jeans leg up.

Hayden shrank away. "It's fine."

"Let me." Their eyes met. Dylan's face seemed open and honest, earnest even. There didn't seem to be an ulterior motive to his request.

But if Hayden had those hands on him again, he would want the rest. All Dylan could provide.

Dylan stretched Hayden's leg out and ran his hands slowly up the muscle of his calf. Hayden shivered. A jolt of electricity seemed to spear him. He clenched his teeth, leaning back.

Dylan's gentle hands started to massage, kneading the muscle, fingertips trailing lightly over the scar. It both hurt and aroused Hayden. He felt both pain and pleasure from Dylan's skilful hands.

"Are you okay? Am I hurting you?"

"I'm okay."

"Should I keep going?"

"Yes."

"Does your foot hurt, too?"

"Yes."

Dylan pulled Hayden's sock off. He pressed his thumbs into the sole of Hayden's foot, kneading firmly.

Hayden caught his breath. A wave of heat engulfed his leg. He shuddered. Dylan's hands enclosed his foot, stroking the arch, instep, and toes, moving to his ankle, massaging rhythmically all the while.

Hayden closed his eyes. The pain throbbed its way into regression. It felt like Dylan's fingers were all over his leg at once. It felt like no one, not Julianna, not his physical therapist, had ever known just what to do. It was exactly what Hayden needed.

A whimper slipped past his lips before he could stop it. He wished he could take Dylan's hands home and keep them forever.

"Is that okay?"

"Yes. Oh, you're good."

"Thank you. You'll tell me if it's too much?"

"I don't want you to stop, Dylan. Please don't stop."

"I won't. Whatever you want."

Hayden breathed deeply. Dylan fingered the scar, turned it pliable and soft. "Have you done this before?"

"Massaged someone? Sure. But in a different way. Not to take away pain."

Hayden knew what he meant. He had given massages in a sexual way, the purpose being to arouse, not like this. He imagined other men being treated to Dylan's wonderful hands, how they must have been putty at the end of it.

"You should do it professionally."

Dylan laughed. "I've got some oil upstairs. Can I go and get it?"

Hayden opened his eyes. He didn't want to lose that contact of skin on his for one moment but he nodded. The massage would be even better with some slick.

He waited, trying not to think of the other men Dylan might have used the oil on. The pain muttered sullenly to him, trying to take hold again without Dylan's magic to ward it off.

Dylan reappeared. He sat down on the couch, tipping a dark glass bottle into his hands. Sweet scents filled the air: rosemary, jasmine, ylang ylang. Hayden knew the latter was an aphrodisiac, all right, Julianna used it often enough. But now was not the time for thinking about his wife. He turned his face away, an arm over his eyes as though he could blot out her image.

Dylan rubbed his hands together. He smoothed them firmly down Hayden's calf to his ankle and beyond, over his foot. Heat invaded Hayden's aching tissues. Pain struck him in multiple small darts, as though it warred with Dylan against its exorcism. Hayden moaned. He thrashed his head from side to side, biting his lip.

"I'm hurting you." Dylan stopped.

"No you're not. It's wonderful. Please, it's going. Just a little bit longer." Hayden reached down, put a hand over Dylan's. Their gazes met and Hayden saw Dylan's golden eyes darken unmistakeably. If it hadn't been sexual before, now it was. The cop wanted him. Hayden's cock stirred.

Dylan slid both hands up to Hayden's knee, and kneaded slowly back down the calf, tracing the scar. The slick, pliable skin shifted easily under his fingers as the muscles released their tightness, their agony.

"Oh, God." Hayden arched beneath Dylan's touch. The release of pain became hopelessly arousing. He saw the reaction on Dylan's face, the way his tongue darted out to moisten his lips, the thickening in his pants.

Dylan's hands captured his foot again. He shifted back so he could rest Hayden's foot on his lap. His fingers sent shockwaves up his leg, his thigh, all the way up to Hayden's groin. He shifted on the couch, spreading his legs. Flexing his foot, his toes came into contact with hardness. He looked down.

Dylan kept his fingers massaging Hayden's instep as his foot rested against the bulge in his pants. He smiled. "Sorry."

Hayden didn't reply. He pressed deliberately, tracing the thick outline with his toes.

Dylan shifted. "Let's not get distracted," he said. He turned his attention back to Hayden's calf but while he rubbed, Hayden continued to massage his crotch with his foot.

Dylan drew his breath in. Hayden watched from below his lashes. He felt languid and drowsy. It was the tablets, he knew, but after a particularly bad spell of pain, he was always left drained, exhausted, barely capable of anything. Today might be different, though. The solid heat pressing against his foot told Hayden he could have it if he wanted it and God, he did.

The pain ebbed away. Hayden breathed slow and easy. A different kind of ache settled in his groin. He reached down again, touched Dylan's hand. "You're wonderful."

Dylan looked up at him, his pupils dilated, overwhelming the gold of his iris. "No,
you're
wonderful." His voice was low and breathy. He turned his hand over, entwined his fingers with Hayden's. "Has it gone?"

"More or less."

Dylan lifted Hayden's hand and pressed a tender kiss to the palm. Then, as Hayden was still catching his breath, Dylan shifted up the couch, leaned down, and lowered his mouth over Hayden's.

Hayden had been full of wine last night. He now knew that experiencing Dylan's kiss while sober was even better. He put an arm around Dylan's neck, pulling him closer, and Dylan sank onto him, between his legs, groin to hard groin.

Hayden writhed in delirious bliss at the weight on him. He didn't feel any pain in his right leg as he wrapped it around Dylan's hip, rocking deliberately against him, holding Dylan greedily to him.

Dylan cursed under his breath. He slid abruptly down Hayden's body, pushing his sweater up, attacking his torso with passionate kisses, right up to his collarbone and then back down, to his navel and the line of dark hair that disappeared below his pants. The heel of one of Dylan's hands ground deliberately against his hardness as Dylan dispensed of his belt quickly and unfastened his pants.

Hayden held his breath in excitement, groaning as fingers freed him from his boxers, slid down his length and then held him steady. A moment later, wet heat engulfed him.

Hayden arched in shock and pleasure, looking down at Dylan's swiftly sucking mouth. Dylan regarded him steadily from under thick lashes. Oh God, he shouldn't be doing this, he shouldn't. But Hayden was helpless to pull away. He was pinned to the couch by the force of his desire, just as strong as it had been last night.

Dylan drew back. He ran his tongue the length of Hayden's shaft, played it over the head of his cock, pressed it against the slit. Hayden clenched his fists. He controlled the urge to lift his pelvis, to guide his cock back into Dylan's perfect mouth.

He closed his eyes as the tongue teased, delved, flicked, before hands gripped his clothes, dragging. Hayden lifted his backside willingly so Dylan could pull his pants and boxers down to mid-thigh. Then the tongue was on his scrotum, licking delicately before Dylan's lips closed, sucking at one ball.

A strangled sound came from Hayden's throat. He groaned overtly when Dylan swallowed him back down, Hayden's balls in his palm, his fingers squeezing lightly.

God, he knew what to do. There was nothing about Dylan which wasn't supremely confident and masterful. Thank God Hayden's first foray into gay sex wasn't in the hands of an amateur. Or an asshole interested only in his own pleasure. Dylan seemed far more interested in Hayden's.

The steadily sucking mouth drew him inexorably toward climax. Was Dylan going to take him all the way like this? Hayden hardly dared hope. What man didn't want to get off this way? Hayden had never had anyone swallow him though. Julianna didn't like it and if it was so unpleasant he'd better make sure he stopped Dylan in time, too. He was nothing if not a gentleman.