Trusting Jack (MC Securities Book 1) Page 5

  “Ummm.” Michael hesitated, heart pounding. Was it possible? He rubbed his face and cleared his throat.

  Jack grinned. Sinfully. He moved closer, his gaze dropped to Michael’s groin then moved back up to his face. “Wasn’t that it?”

  Michael’s mouth went dry and his heart tried to claw its way out of this throat. It made him cough. “I suggested lending you ten grand and helping you set up home. You added the sex part.”

  “You don’t want the sex part?” Jack looked stunned. Michael wanted to drag him into his arms but there was something in that look. In the expectation that all he offered came with a price tag that involved his body. That he wasn’t worth the investment without the sex as some kind of payment. Michael cleared his throat again as his brain started functioning on its own rather than being ruled by his cock.

  “Well…”

  Jack gave him a quizzical look. “Well, why the hell else would you be helping me?” Confusion was writ all over his face, grey eyes puzzled, but with a hint of vulnerability in there at the implicit rejection.

  Michael was so hard he was about to burst. His chest hurt at the notion that Jack could only imagine him helping at a price, but he managed to form the words. Somehow.

  “I’m helping you because…I like you.”

  “You like me?” Jack’s jaw dropped, and his eyes went wide.

  “Yes. I like you.” Michael’s breathing came a little easier. It was the right thing to say and do. It hurt him to think that that was perhaps how he had been treated in the past. That he wasn’t worth anything if sex wasn’t part of the deal. Nobody would help if he didn’t offer himself. As if he wasn’t worth the effort. It was all so… wrong. He wished he had the words that to say to him, but he didn’t.

  Jack’s gaze strayed down to Michael’s groin and then travelled back up to his face. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Believe what you want.”

  “You’re hard.” Jack looked pointedly at his groin for a moment, then back up at him.

  Michael forced himself to hold Jack’s gaze and answer carefully. “I said that I wasn’t offering to help you to get you into bed. I didn’t say I don’t want you.”

  “Well, I just said you can have me….” Jack’ voice was getting higher, clearly baffled.

  Michael shook his head. “I’m your boss so I’m not going to do anything about it, but believe me, if I was ever fortunate enough to get you in bed, I wouldn’t want it to be as some gesture of thanks.”

  Jack opened his mouth and then shut it again. “I don’t get you,” he muttered. “So, it off now? Your offer?”

  “No, my original offer still stands.”

  “So, you’ll lend me the money but without the no-strings sex part?”

  Michael nodded.

  Jack walked back to the island and slumped on the stool. He ran his hands through his hair and then looked at him. Michael couldn’t read the look, but there was something shy about it.

  “What?” Michael asked.

  “Thank you.”

  “So, it’s a deal?”

  Jack looked bemused, but gave him a cautious, lop-sided smile. “Looks like it.”

  Chapter Six

  Michael tried to bury himself in work and stop thinking. Work had always been his refuge from thinking, but today, it didn’t work. Relationships. What a bloody joke. He’d never managed one that was for sure, with or without the quote marks around it. He’d barely managed a few hook-ups in the last year or so. His sex life was damned nigh moribund. Why the hell he had said that they couldn’t have no-strings sex? He closed his eyes. He knew damned well why. It wouldn’t be right. If he did ever get Jack Whelan in his bed, it would be because he wanted to be there not because it was some kind of payback he felt he had to make. God, but he wished the circumstances were different and they could just indulge in some hedonistic, no-strings, fabulous sex.

  He forced himself to keep his eyes on the computer in front of him and not glance at Jack through the office window. He picked up his pen and fiddled with it, keeping his eyes firmly on it. Jack had asked if he was gay and if he was out. He swallowed. He wasn’t in or out. Not having relationships, or even much in the way of hook-ups, kind of made it a moot point. The lack of a relationship hadn’t really bothered him much. Sometimes he felt lonely, but work filled that gap most of the time. Building the business, getting everything on track, and learning the ropes. There wasn’t much time for anything else.

  His parents had asked a few times if he might bring a girl home for Christmas lunch and he’d skirted the issue. He still went home for Christmas dinner. It was probably marginally better than sitting in the flat on his own. He thought about the kind of conversation he would need to have with his parents if he ever wanted to bring a man home and shuddered. Not that they were awful, they would probably be fine, well, his mother probably would. His father would most likely look puzzled and leave it at that. It was just that the prospect of discussing something so personal with anyone filled him with horror.

  Christ, what was the matter with him?

  Well, he knew what the matter was. Alex Holt was the matter. Michael shuddered as he recalled the closest thing to a relationship he’d ever had. Alex had swooped into his life, made believe he had fallen madly in love, and for want of a better word, dazzled him. Michael knew he was punching way above his weight with him, but he couldn’t help but fall. He pushed the thought away with a shudder. What a fool he’d been.

  He ran a hand over his eyes, gave in, and leaned a bit so he could see through the window to where Jack was sitting. He looked edgy. Nervous. For all his bravado upstairs, Michael was certain that he was worried about what would happen when they finished work, and worried about where he was going to live, what would happen between them. He rubbed his forehead as he remembered his stipulations. Not submissive, fair enough. Versatile, Michael rubbed harder at that one.

  His relationship with Alex had barely got off the ground before it had exploded, and sex hadn’t really figured largely in it. Oh, there had been a lot of touching, kissing, holding, promising, but with hindsight, he wondered if Alex had even been gay. Just a few weeks and Michael had been utterly bowled over, until the real reason for Alex’s interest became clear.

  In the infrequent encounters he’d managed with men since, Michael had never bottomed, but in fairness he’d never topped either because it had been mainly blowjobs and jerking each other off in a completely anonymous way. Actually fucking someone, or being fucked, seemed way too intimate. He’d never slept with a man, literally slept, in a bed, either. He looked at Jack again.

  Groaning, Michael stood up, stretched his shoulders out, and rolled his neck. He needed to stop speculating. They needed to take a decision on what to do about Bryce soon, as Christmas Eve and the pay run were but a few days away. If he was going to give him the money, he needed to make arrangements for that amount of cash. He’d had a quick look online for Jack. He felt bad doing it, but he’d done it anyway. Rubbish credit rating, but no court judgements against him or convictions though. No presence at all on social media either, which he’d thought odd, but when he really considered it, if Jack had been living rough for some time that might account for it, unless he went under another name, which given his predicament was entirely possible. His phone looked as though it only just texted and rang. There seemed to be no-one around him. No network of friends or family. It was odd, but it made Michael feel increasingly protective of him.

  By the end of the day he had barely done a tap of work. He had sorted out a viewing of a studio flat, arranged the cash to be available at the bank, and thought of a thousand scenarios of what might happen when he got upstairs with his new lodger. As five o’clock approached, the staff all started clearing up, shutting down computers and putting on coats, so he stayed in his office.

  Carla headed his way and put her head around the door. “We’re off now,” she said and then dropped her voice. “Thanks.”

  Michael blinked an
d frowned. “For what?”

  “Jack. He’s positively fragrant! And he looks clean and fed. And he clearly has some new clothes…” She gave him a speaking look.

  Michael looked down at his keyboard and fiddled with it, so she wouldn’t see him flush. “No problem. Goodnight.”

  He watched as Jack left with them. He carried on working for about twenty minutes, then switched off and headed upstairs. When he opened the door, it warmed something inside him to find the lights on, the smell of coffee wafting from the kitchen, and Jack waiting for him, curled up on the sofa in his red pyjamas watching TV. He’d never had anyone in his home waiting for him. He looked at Jack. His feet were bare. They were long and bony. He struggled to keep his gaze off them.

  Michael swallowed. “Hey,” was all he could say.

  “Hi.” Jack put his feet on the floor quickly, then after a moment’s hesitation stood. “I didn’t know what you would want to eat, or I would have made you something.”

  Michael hadn’t the faintest idea what he wanted to eat, or even what was in the fridge. He watched Jack’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, then looked at the prominent collar bones beneath the red shirt. There wasn’t a pick on him. Slender, with that absurdly spiky dark hair and grey eyes that seemed to see everything.

  “Get into something more comfortable and I’ll make you a coffee,” Jack said. “If you tell me what you fancy for dinner, I’ll have a go at making something.”

  Michael snapped back into the room. “Sure. There will be something in the freezer we can eat. Give me a minute.”

  In the bedroom he pulled his clothes off and dropped them in the linen basket. He climbed in the shower and set it to hot and stood beneath the spray. He squirted body wash on his hand and lathered his chest, his arms, and then moved down to his stomach in slow circles. Closing his eyes, he turned his face up to the spray and let his hand drift lower, and then let the image of Jack fill his head and his soul. Let thoughts of him naked in his bed overwhelm him, let the thought of spreading his cheeks and plunging into him take his breath. It took embarrassingly few moments for him to spend so hard he cried out and his legs almost buckled. When he staggered out of the shower, he could only pray that the noise of the water drowned out the noise he made. His heart thudded painfully in his chest as he towelled off.

  When he returned, dressed in navy sweats, he found Jack in the kitchen stirring milk into coffee for him. He handed him the mug with a knowing smile. “Good shower?”

  “Yep.” He took the coffee and had a swig of the scalding brew.

  A wicked grin crept across Jack’s face. “I had one too.”

  Michael froze with the cup half way to his mouth but didn’t dare ask what he meant. He took another swallow.

  “I found some chilli in the freezer if you fancy that. There’s rice in the cupboard too.” Jack looked hopeful.

  “Great.”

  He took another mouthful of the coffee, then set about putting the chilli in the microwave to defrost. Jack offered to boil some rice. Michael was impressed that he seemed to know what he was doing, but then realised if he had lived on his own from an early age, he would have had to learn how to cook. Michael rummaged a bit further in the freezer and came up with garlic bread. It was all stuff his mother had made and given him to freeze. It made him feel…inadequate at the side of Jack’s quiet capability.

  They worked silently together to get the meal ready and then set places at the island again. Michael reached for wine glasses and then hesitated. “Are you working tonight?”

  “Afraid so,” he said and grimaced a little.

  Michael frowned. “You look knackered. You could ring in sick.”

  Jack shook his head. “I can’t do that; I’m not letting them down.”

  Michael smiled to himself as he put the glasses back and finished preparing the food. Jack clearly had principles along with cooking skills. Paying his brother’s debt, when he wasn’t even his brother, good work ethic… He put plates down filled, but not over full, with fragrant chilli and rice and then watched again as Jack ate slowly and carefully. This time, he ate the lot. They loaded the dishwasher and Michael noticed him rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Get your head down for a couple of hours. You didn’t get much sleep last night. I’ll wake you when it’s time to get ready.”

  He hesitated. “You will wake me?”

  “Yep. Take the bed.”

  Jack hesitated. “I can curl up on the sofa no problem.” He headed off to the lounge and Michael couldn’t decide if he was relieved or not. Sleeping on sheets that smelled of him would be hard. Literally. He smiled at his own pathetic joke. He finished up in the kitchen and followed. He got into the lounge and Jack was curled up in one corner of the sofa, head on a cushion and looked to be fast asleep already. He watched his steady breathing for a moment and then sat down carefully beside him in oddly companionable silence and switched on the news.

  One moment Jack was sleeping, then something or someone touched his naked foot and he leaped up, immediately awake but for a moment back in the grotty flat. He yelled and kicked out, scrambling away from the contact, but a familiar voice penetrated the panic.

  “Whoa, steady… It’s just me, I’m sorry.”

  Michael’s voice held him, and strong arms surrounded him.

  Jack’s heart settled gradually as he blinked and looked into Michael’s worried brown eyes. “You startled me.”

  Michael continued to hold him. One hand rubbing soft circles on his back. “I know. I’m sorry. Okay now?”

  Jack nodded, reluctant to move out of his arms, wanting desperately to feel them around him, but Michael pulled back and sat next to him.

  “It’s fine.” Jack sighed and rubbed his face, feeling the loss of that strong embrace keenly. “What time is it?”

  “Eight. Plenty of time to get ready and get you there. I’ll run you again.”

  Jack looked at Michael and wanted to snuggle deep into his arms. He was surprised at how much he wanted to be held. He scrambled to his feet. He didn’t usually fantasise about being cuddled, he usually fantasised about hot sex, but Michael had held him tight again and…

  Shaking his head at the sheer weirdness of that thought, he stood up, put his hands behind his head, and stretched till his bones popped. When he opened his eyes, Michael’s eyes were riveted on his midriff that had been bared by the action. He let his arms down slowly and didn’t move when his cock filled and pushed out the front of his soft pyjamas. Michael looked as though he had stopped breathing. He thought about pulling his top off and inviting him to share the shower but didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. Didn’t want to make him stop wanting him around. He pulled the top down and watched as Michael swallowed.

  When they pulled up outside Dooley’s, and as Jack went to open the car door, Michael touched his arm. “I’ll pick you up at two.”

  “You really don’t have to do that. I’ve still got the twenty; I’ll get a cab. I promise I won’t walk.”

  Michael looked uncomfortable, and grunted something about it not being a problem, so Jack got out and then bent to look through the door at him. “Thanks,” he said softly. Michael just nodded. Jack smiled to himself as the car pulled away, leaving him in the cold, his breath making soft puffs of air in the wintry night as he watched the red lights disappear.

  Inside the bar it was loud, busy, and warm. He nipped into the staff space that had a couple of chairs and mirrors for changing and make up. He loved the mirrors with the light bulbs around. They were like something out of an old Hollywood film. It was great that the place provided uniforms for the bar staff. Not that it was much, but it meant that he didn’t stand out, and they were laundered for them. He pulled on the skin-tight black pants and grabbed one of the black string vests that was the rest of the bar uniform. He ran eyeliner around his eyes and swiped on some lip gloss. He rubbed a small amount of body oil over his arms, chest, and stomach, dropped the vest in place, then sprayed a generous amount of body
spray around him. He rubbed some hair wax between his palms and ruffled his hair, making the bits that stood up more defined and spikier, and checked the effect in the mirror. He decided he would do and, shutting his clothes and phone into his locker, headed for the bar.

  The night was steady but had a great crowd in, and the place was filled to the brim with Christmas decorations which added to the fun atmosphere. Kev, the manager, he came to stand beside him during a lull. At six foot four, Jack had a long way to look up.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m good.”

  Kev peered down at him then rolled his eyes. “Well, you don’t look as knackered as you usually do, so I’ll take that as a good sign.”

  “It is a good sign. Honestly.” Kev had been good to him since he had turned up looking for work all those weeks ago and had given him as many shifts as he could take. Getting the job with Michael too had meant that he would be able to pay of the debts in double time, so things really were looking up. If Michael was serious about loaning him the money to get the idiots off his back, then things were truly looking brilliant. The prospect of having his own place to live, and some money to spend, made him feel giddy. With two jobs and a reasonable payment plan it felt as though he might be getting somewhere and be able to put the horror of the last months behind him. It was almost too good to be true.

  He stationed himself behind the bar with Noah, the other bartender, and between them they managed the crowd. It wasn’t too busy; people were clearly saving themselves for Christmas. Noah was tall and blond. Pretty good looking really, but not his type. Noah had made a couple of passes, had taken rejection well, and they’d settled into being friends.

  “What are you doing for Christmas?” Noah asked.

  Jack rolled his eyes. “God knows.”

  “You can always come to mine. Don’t be on your own.”