Worth Keeping (32 page)

Owen pointed two fingers at his throat and pretended to gag. “Ugh. You two are disgusting, you know that?”

Nick waved his drink at them both in amusement. “I’m with Owen on this one.”

Justin finished excavating Daniel’s throat with his tongue and leaned back in satisfaction. “You always taste so good, Bear.” His face grew serious and he looked at Nick. “Anyway, where were we? Talking about ghosts I believe.” He raised an eyebrow at Nick. “What about other types of ghosts, Nick? The sort we leave in the past. How’s that doing for you?”

“Justin, you promised you weren’t going to try to psych Nick.” Daniel’s voice was a warning. “He doesn’t need this crap tonight.”

“It’s an innocent question, Dan.” Justin leaned back and observed Nick with quiet eyes. “I spoke to your dad last week. He’s a great guy by the way. You’re a lucky man to have him.”

Nick stared at him. Owen reached out and placed his warm hand over Nick’s as his lover spoke softly. “You spoke to Don? About the child sex case you were working on?”

Owen didn’t want any more meltdowns and he leaned forward in agitation. Things were so good between him and Nick at the moment. The last thing he wanted was Nick reverting into moody bastard mode. Owen couldn’t take another break up. “Justin, can’t we leave this alone? I honestly don’t need any bloody drama—”

“It’s all right, Owen. I can handle this.” Nick glanced at Justin. “I talked to him a few days ago. He told me it was almost wrapped up. That you’d both finished with it.”

Justin nodded. “Yes. The guys have been caught and it looks like that particular sex ring has been broken. Of course new ones spring up all the time, so it’s a damned vicious circle. But all we can do is shut them down one at a time.” He rubbed his arm absently. “We saved seventeen kids, Nick. I don’t know if Don told you that. Seventeen children get to go home to their families. And God knows how many more because we got these perverts.”

Owen shifted in his seat as Nick looked at Justin, his eyes narrowed. “No, he didn’t tell me that bit. He was probably waiting for you to do that tonight. Because no doubt the two of you talked about me and thought this might be a way to give me that news so I feel better about the whole thing?” His voice was even and Justin laughed softly.

“I told him you wouldn’t be that naive as to believe I just dropped that in conversation. So yes, we thought maybe face to face that news may be more welcome.” He looked at Nick from under lowered, long lashes, looking coquettish. “So did it work? Do you feel a little more okay about the whole thing?”

Owen held his breath. The child sex scandal had once again been on the news in the past weeks. Nick seemed to be dealing with it. He’d had a few nightmares but they hadn’t been the kick-arse screaming ones he normally had. They’d been quiet, whimpering episodes and once Owen had woken Nick up and held him, Nick had gone back to sleep.

In fact, the past few weeks Nick had been almost normal. His bad moods were still there but he’d really been trying to hold them at bay. The great sex they were having certainly helped. Owen prided himself on being the medicine Nick needed to chase away his demons.

Nick stared down at the table, his fingers tapping a nervous melody on the tabletop. “I have Owen,” he said quietly. “He keeps me grounded, makes me realise life does go on.” The look of love he shot Owen made his heart soar. Nick reached over and took his hand, stroking long fingers down his. “I can do a lot of things I wasn’t able to do before, because I have him.”

The table was quiet and Justin grinned. “I think that’s just so poetic, Nick,” he teased, although his face was relieved. “You should be a poet, not a painter.”

Nick raised a middle finger at him with a wide smile and Justin chuckled. “Mr. Mathers, sir. Manners. Or I’ll set my Bear on you to cuddle you to death.” He cast an affectionate look at Daniel.

Daniel raised his hands. “Hey, don’t use me as your deadly killing machine. I’m a lover not a fighter.”

The table erupted in raucous laughter at that comment and Daniel looked injured. “Hey, enough of the hilarity about my loving abilities. You’re giving a man a complex.”

The rest of the evening passed in occasional bouts of ribbing and nonsense and finally it was time for bed. Owen and Nick soon found themselves in a fairly luxurious suite with a well-stocked mini bar and a large shower. Owen definitely had plans for the shower. Nick had managed quite nicely to keep his hard-on through a few bouts of making love to Owen and he was definitely getting more confident in his abilities to sustain himself. There had been a couple of times he’d flagged but Owen prided himself on getting his lover back into the saddle and in the end everything had turned out just fine. Tonight, he’d leave the moves to Nick and take whatever he wanted to give.

Ten minutes later, after a blow job in the shower that blew his brains out the top of his head, Owen found himself face down on the bed with his arse in the air as Nick ripped off his towel and proceeded to fuck him into the mattress. There was
definitely
no doubt about what Nick wanted tonight.

The next morning Owen’s phone rang on the side table and he reached out a hand. Nick’s soft snores permeated the air behind him and Owen wriggled free of his lover’s grip and peered blearily at his mobile.

“Christ, it’s only nine o’clock in the bloody morning,” he muttered and killed the incoming call. “Can’t people call at a civilised hour?” He lay back against the comfortable hotel pillows, wincing at the tenderness of his arse. There was no doubt Nick’s erections were lasting longer every time he decided to pound it. The man was certainly developing a taste for it. A warm arm reached out and pulled him against what felt like a woody of note. Owen groaned as his rear end came into contact with something hard and hot.

“Nick, no more,” he said half jokingly. “I need to recover from last night first. You were a right bloody animal.” He shifted against Nick’s groin, feeling a sense of triumph when Nick drew in a deep breath.

“You’re a lightweight,” he murmured against Owen’s ear, a tone of sheer satisfaction evident in his voice. “Then you’ll have to think of another way to get rid of this, won’t you?” His tongue slid into Owen’s ear and Owen’s own morning woody got instantly harder.

“Hell, Nick, stop that,” he muttered as Nick’s hands reached around and softly stroked his erection. “Actually, don’t stop
that
. It feels good. Just keep doing it...” He gasped as Nick’s hands started to jack him off, as he rubbed himself against Owen’s cheeks. It didn’t take long. Owen was spurting over the sheets within five minutes and from the sticky wetness between his butt cheeks it felt like Nick had done the same. They lay sandwiched together, each of them not wanting to leave the comfort of the bed, but wanting to clean up.

“I’m hungry,” Owen muttered as he lay in a wet patch. “Does this overnight stay include breakfast?”

“Uh huh,” was the sleepy reply from behind him. “Full English and all the trimmings. I could kill for coffee.” The room was quiet then Nick spoke. “Who was on the phone?”

“No idea. They’ve left a voice mail message. I’ll check it once I’ve showered. Which I’m going to do right now—if you’ve quite finished with me?” Owen shifted over to the edge of the bed, half expecting Nick to hold him back. To his surprise, Nick let him go and Owen escaped into the bathroom for a shower.

Ten minutes later he felt like a new man even though he was still sore. In the bedroom, Nick still lay curled up in the bed, eyes closed. Owen was going nowhere near the man for fear of being captured and forced to perform once again.

“Nick, it’s time to get up before breakfast finishes. Maybe you should go have a shower? I’m going to go down and grab a cup of coffee. I’ll see you in the restaurant.”

Nick nodded sleepily. “‘Kay. See you down there in a little while.”

Owen harrumphed. “Don’t go back to sleep or all the damn sausage and bacon will be gone before you get there”.

It was a good half an hour before Nick made his way to breakfast, and within the next two hours, the two of them were in the car and on the way home. Owen had checked his phone to find yet another message from the pushy Cole Porter asking him if the painter had changed his mind and if he could meet him. Owen had sent a terse message back telling the art dealer that the position hadn’t changed and in fact, he’d changed his mind about offering him the paintings. He claimed the artist was a little protective about his works and had decided not to show or sell them. Owen hoped that that would stop the man calling him.

He was glad he hadn’t yet talked to Nick about them, as he might have been disappointed that it hadn’t worked out. But something told Owen this particular dealer was trouble. He’d find someone else to look at Nick’s work. But the one of Owen was definitely off limits. That was his to keep.

Chapter 21

The interior of the lighthouse cottage was bright and warm but the weather outside was anything but. Lightning flashed across the ocean, highlighting the lighthouse against its stark light. Steady rain slashed against the windows, on the roof and delivered a bruising slap to the earth. It was dark and unpleasant. Nick sighed as he sat with Socks on the couch. The monkey was a little unnerved tonight and seemed clingy. Owen was still in town where he’d been helping Daniel with some late-night repairs to a fellow neighbour’s house. Tiles had been blown off the roof and apparently the family were in danger of being flooded. Owen had called about an hour ago and told Nick he’d be home as soon as he could.

“It’s just you and me, Socks,” Nick murmured as he tickled the monkey’s tummy. “Owen’s off doing his DIY thing again.” He snorted in laughter at that thought. Despite Owen’s good intentions, he was still not one of the most capable men in a DIY situation. Poor Daniel loved him to death and had to really hold his tongue when Owen stepped on things, broke tools and generally was a loveable nuisance. But his gardening and landscaping skills were apparently par excellence and the customers loved his creativity and his willingness. He even had green fingers, something that Owen never tired of telling him. And for all that, Daniel was prepared to put up with any shortcomings in Owen’s home improvement techniques. The man might not be good at it but he was able and willing.

Nick had made himself dinner and settled in to watch a movie. But even the television was problematic, the storm playing havoc with the satellite signal. Nick sighed and switched the TV off, giving it up as a bad job. He picked up the newspaper and tried reading the pages but he just couldn’t focus. He felt as unsettled as Socks about something, a feeling of dread in his stomach for no apparent reason. He supposed it was the storm.

In the past, Nick would have been out there, striding the cliffs and wondering whether tonight was the night he met his end, tempting fate as he did by walking close to the cliff face and holding his arms out to the embrace of the jagged peals of light across the sky. But that urge had passed a long time ago and all he felt now was a distinct desire for Owen to be home in his arms, safe and sound.

The howling of the wind made an eerie keening sound as it rushed through the open space between the cottage and the lighthouse. Nick thanked God that this lighthouse was non-functional or by now he’d be up in the Watch Room, eying out the stormy seas and playing saviour to the ships on the ocean. In some way he regretted that. It would have been truly mind blowing to actually be able to be part of the history that was keeping a lighthouse in that way.

He’d only just settled back on the couch with his newspaper, determined to finish the sports pages, when he heard a loud knock at the door. Nick frowned.

Owen had his keys, so he doubted it would be him.
Unless the silly blighter forgot them again.

Smiling, he approached the door and pulled it open, expecting to see the guilty and rain-drenched face of his boyfriend. What he didn’t expect to see was a large figure in a thick white rain jacket, hood pulled around their face. Nick expected even less something foul smelling being shoved into his face, making his senses swim and his eyes water.

His brain fogged up and his first instinct was to raise his hands and push the figure away. But it was as if he was underwater, his arms dead weight at his sides and his eyes blurring. Nick was pushed back into the cottage with a fierce shove and stumbled, falling to his back on the stone floor. The entrance rug slid with his body and rucked up underneath him as the figure crouched above his frozen body, a body that suddenly was unable to move. The smell was pushed further into his nose and face and as Nick lost consciousness, he had the fleeting thought that somehow, he’d been expecting something bad to happen.

Nick awoke gradually, his eyes peeling open, his head aching with a dull throb. He tried to move his arms to rub his gritty eyes but they wouldn’t move. He struggled to get free of whatever bound him but his body was held fast.

As he focused, he realised with a pang of panic that he was sitting in the corner chair in his bedroom, his wrists tied to the chair arms and ankles bound the same. The one bedside light was on, throwing dim light into the room. Outside, the storm still raged.

Nick blinked a couple of times, clearing his vision, and then wished he hadn’t. Because now he could see the supine figure of Owen, similarly trussed like a sub for his Dom, sitting in another chair at the foot of the bed. That chair belonged in the spare room, Owen’s old bedroom. Owen’s face was white, a nasty bruise on his cheek and blood on what looked like a swollen lip. Nick’s heart lurched in fear.

“Owen?” he tried to say, but his voice sounded squeaky and faint. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Owen, baby, talk to me.” There was no response. Owen’s chin remained sunk onto his chest and Nick breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the faint rise and fall of his lover’s chest.

“Oh how sweet, Nicky boy.” The gravelly tones of his ex-lover grated in Nick’s ears and he drew a breath at the implications of Brad being here in the same room. His sense of dread amplified. Brad laughed nastily. “Baby? I don’t recall you ever me calling me that.”