A bang in the bathroom drew his attention. “You okay?” he called and scraped back his hair. There was no answer. “Gideon?”
“I’m fine. Just dropped the…thing,” Gideon called back, his answer muffled slightly by the sound of the shower.
“Need a hand?” Rowan asked. He drew up his legs and rested his chin on his knees. “Just kidding,” he added for himself.
“I’m fine,” Gideon said for a second time.
Was he really?
He hadn’t said anything, but it was easy to see Gideon’s knee was a little swollen and the faint glow of a bruise was forming, and though he had faced the morning as normal, it seemed his stoicism was slipping. Soft grunts had escaped from his tight lips when he got to his feet and moved about.
Maybe I should cancel the plans for today? It wasn’t as if he’d arranged something particularly special for Gideon’s birthday and there’d be the usual Christmas Eve drinks and snacks later that evening, but still, people had put in the effort. It would be sad to see them go to waste. I’ll ask them what they think.
He rested his forehead on his crossed arms, closed his eyes, and listened to the sound of running water. It was strange. His mind filled with Gideon. Rowan had always considered him to be attractive. Gideon, on the surface, was everything he wanted in a lover—mature, strong, kind. Rowan had always avoided coming across as needy, put up the façade that he was fine by himself—and he was. He wasn’t a useless person, his job as PA proved it.
Proved it to whom exactly?
To himself? To those he thought might abandon him when he was no longer useful to them?
What am I thinking about?
His childhood anxieties reared in his chest. Ached.
Haven’t felt like this in a while.
He gently stroked his chest with the back of his hand. When he was a child, about five years old, his real mom left him alone. Sometimes he wished she’d been a terrible mother, but in the end, she’d just been ordinary. A regular, flawed human being. His father had died when he was a baby and Rowan, from the bits he remembered, didn’t feel his childhood had been anything but normal, or at least until that one day when his mother came to his bedside, told him to be a good boy, and that she would be back soon. Soon, however, turned into days then into almost two weeks. When she did show up, neighbors had already called social services. He didn’t remember much else from back then, but the look of relief on her face was forever burned into his memories. He’d reached out to her, but she never took his hand. She let him go.
Rowan breathed in deeply and lifted his head when the water shut off. Obsession or indifference. He was a people pleaser who went all out or someone who kept people at a distance. For the longest time he thought why put the effort into something that would come to an end eventually? His life swung in one direction or the other. It wasn’t until working at Bryant & Waites, he found himself capable of walking the line between the two.
What about the job had caught his interest?
It was certainly a tangent to his time working in the pharmaceutical industry. Several years ago, he’d taken a timeout, traveled around India, hoped for the brochure-type promise of finding himself, finding a direction. Maybe become one with the earth, find love for his fellow man, some inner peace, try meditation, be Zen or whatever was fashionable back then. In the end, all he’d wanted was for something to change. In a way, it did, but not for him, not directly, but for Darcy instead, and while Rowan had chosen to leave his career, Darcy was forced from his, and his thoughts were shifted from himself to his friend.
On returning to New York, Rowan took a chance, applied for the PA position, and even surprised himself with how diligently he took to the role. Was it Gideon’s influence? Or maybe Darcy’s new circumstance had finally made him realize something about himself? Whatever the reason, for the first time in his adult life, Rowan was content, comfortable, but also strove to do his best, to properly be part of something.
And in the end, I even roped Darcy into working there.
“Are you all right?” Gideon was standing beside his bed, a large bath towel wrapped around his waist, coming just below his knees. He brushed back his wet hair. Droplets ran down his cheeks and fell over his shoulders and chest.
Broad shoulders. Nice skin. Twin moles on his collarbone.
Rowan smiled. “Yep. I’m fine. Are you? Did the warm water help?”
Gideon sat on the end of the bed and winced. “A little.” He leaned forward and pulled up the towel. “Looks worse than it is.” His cheek twitched. “Well, maybe.” He chuckled and leaned back, holding himself up on his arms. “I guess Bear lives up to his name.”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” Gideon yawned.
“Tired?”
“Mmm. A little.”
Rowan eyed Gideon’s upper body. What would it feel like holding that body to his own? Firm in parts, soft in others. The feel of hot smooth skin and his fingertips running through the patch of chest hair. What was Gideon like in bed? What position did he prefer? Rowan was used to taking on whatever role his partners desired.
You should be a little more selfish. Who had told him that?
If I was to be selfish? He chewed on his fingernail. I’d probably want to top. Have Gideon hold onto me, wearing a desperate expression. Though the opposite was just as an enticing image, and if he was being honest, his imagination had, at times, wandered in that particular direction while at the office—Gideon pressing him up against the filing cabinets, having him straddle him in his chair, or taking him over his desk, papers scattering everywhere.
Yeah, I could go for that too.
Rowan lifted his hips. His thoughts were affecting his lower half. He squeezed his legs together.
But if he was truly being selfish, then it would be to stay at Gideon’s side, and the best way to do that was as boss and PA.
Wasn’t it?
Rowan dragged himself to the edge of the bed, grateful for the baggy pajama bottoms. “Shower,” he said and headed to the bathroom.
“Sure,” Gideon said as he passed.
Rowan locked the door then stood over the sink. He gripped the edge of the basin with one hand and pressed his other palm to his erection.
“I’m an idiot.”
He stripped and stepped into the shower, hoping the water was enough to muffle the sound of him jerking off.
Idiot.
“Here. It’s blueberry.”
Gideon stared at the muffin. “It’s warm.”
“Freshly baked.” Rowan smiled and dropped down in the chair beside the bed. “Do you feel up for an adventure this afternoon?”
Gideon folded down the napkin and cupped the muffin in his hands. “Depends on the adventure.”
It was now after lunch. Gideon had stayed in the cabin for the morning with his leg up on the bed, resting his aching body away from the chaos that was already unraveling in the main house. Kevin’s kids and the family dogs had worked each other up into a bouncing ball of Christmas excitement.
“A drive. Thought I could live out my dream of being a tour guide and point at things, tell amusing anecdotes as we cruise on past.” He shrugged. “Only if you want to. If you’d prefer you can stay here and rest, prepare yourself for later. This evening will be a bit hectic since Kevin’s wife and kids are here, and later Sarah and her family will be showing up and staying over.”