Nothing Special VI: His Hart's Command, page 11
part #6 of Nothing Special Series
“I love the different colors in your beard. The darkness at the bottom.” Free stroked his face.
I have to be dreaming. He can’t think…
“The reddish hairs on the top.” Free moved his hips a couple of inches closer, and Hart almost came out of the chair. Almost. His dick was so hard and cramped in those stupid briefs. He couldn’t believe he thought that’d be a good idea. “You’re so sexy, Ivan.”
Hart shook his head at his good fortune. His hands still roamed up and down Free’s back. It all felt surreal. Free dipped his head and kissed the side of his temple.
“Len.” Hart didn’t know what else to say.
Sure fingers clutched his chin and tilted his head up. Caught in the moment, it felt like neither of them breathed as Free’s lips made for his own. The first touch was so delicate, he barely felt it. The next press of that warm mouth against his was confident and more excited. There were no probing tongues, just a delectable, inquiring kiss. One that was meant to say, ‘hello, welcome to the start of this’. Hart exhaled roughly and angled his head for more.
“Ivan, I’ve wanted to touch you…kiss you for so long.” Free breathed against his lips, and damn if Hart didn’t think that would make him blow. He closed his eyes and tried to will his cock not to erupt, but it wasn’t every day he had a hot man on his lap paying him compliments. Free moaned in his ear, settling deeper into his lap. Hart’s eyes rolled behind his lids. Then more of those gentle kisses were placed on the corner of his mouth.
Hart slowed his shaking hands, they were in no rush. He sat still, panting, with his head in Free’s grasp while he spoiled him with his touch. While he showed him the comfort of a man.
“Your hands feel good on me,” Free said, making his way back to his mouth. That typically suave, melodic voice was husky and sexy as he moved his hips, the more powerful his massage got.
Hart wanted to say he felt the same, but his jaw was clenched tight. He didn’t want to humiliate himself in front of such a virile man. But, God help him, he was already on the edge. Then Free rubbed his hand over his freshly shaven head again, then down his neck, into his tank top. Never once did he cringe or pull his hand back at the hair he found there. No—Free was damn near petting him, his caresses so heartfelt.
Mmmmm. Shit, baby. Hart needed more pressure on his cock. Anything to justify being so damn hard. Free had to feel his arousal too, briefs could only conceal so much. He wasn’t embarrassed, because Free was just as solid as him.
“Kiss me some more,” Free demanded.
Oh my god. Hart tilted his head, slightly parting his lips so he could get enough oxygen. Free’s tongue was slippery and warm. Hart grunted loudly, his hips jerking forward.
Free smiled, then went back to kissing.
It’d been a long time since he’d done this, so he let Free take the lead. Hart chased Free’s tongue with his own and sucked on his plump bottom lip. That, he could do. And Free’s moans spurred him on to do more. Hart flexed his hips, pressing his bare heels into the floor for leverage, “I want…unnghh. God, Len. I…”
“Tell me. It’s okay. It’s just me and you here, Ivan.” Free rotated his hips with a bit more persistence, pressing down on him as if he was silently begging for it.
He didn’t give a damn who was there. He’d waited years for this moment. He just wanted to keep being touched and embraced. Every now and then, Free would wrap both arms around his neck and squeeze him as if he was giving him a great big ‘thank you’ then would go back to massaging… and kissing. They stayed this way, exploring more with their touches.
Before he could think better of it, Hart growled urgently. “I want you, Len.”
Free paused his subtle gyration.
Hart didn’t mean to say it like that. His lust was in overdrive and his granite-hard dick was robbing him of his rational thoughts. So he went primal. Want. Man. You. Now. That was the most his brain could give him.
“You can have me.” Free kissed him with soul. “You can have whatever you want. I just want to see you. I want to see more.”
Free went for the hem of Hart’s tank top and boldly lifted it up and over his head. A bolt of insecurity hit him like lightning when Free dropped his eyes to his pecs. Thick, dark hair covered his upper body, then tapered down over his stomach and into his pants. Plenty of it. Hart almost closed his eyes, not wanting to see the same look of disgust that Teresa used to give him when he got naked. But he was glad he didn’t. Otherwise, he would’ve missed the hungry, almost predatory gleam in Free’s dark eyes, irises that shimmered like hot coal. Trembling hands dove into his furry abs as if his hair was fine silk. Then Free moved again.
Jesus Christ. “This feel good to you?” Do I feel good to you? Hart asked, when Free pressed their chest and groins together, wrenching long, tortured groans from both of them.
“Men don’t fake it very well, Ivan,” Free rasped, his cock obscenely tenting his pants. No, there was no faking that. “Your body is better than I imagined.”
How?
As if he’d heard his internal thoughts, Free continued, “Hard and firm. Then soft in just the right places. With your arms around me I feel like I’m untouchable. I feel like I can do anything I want because you’re right here.” Free’s dark eyes dropped to his mouth, “And your beard isn’t as rough as I thought, but still enough to leave a nice burn on my face. I wanna know where else is covered with hair.”
Unnngh. Hart’s cock throbbed angrily beneath Free’s ass. Okay, he was convinced. Free did have an unusual obsession with his hair, and like he’d said men didn’t have to fake it. Hart glanced down at Free’s straining erection that’d now made a sizable damp spot on his light gray sweats. Fuck, he’s really not faking. Maybe his best friend was right. This could work out. He could have something special, too.
Free
Shit, what was he doing? He was on top of Hart’s wide lap and he no longer had control over his actions. He was going on blazing unadulterated lust. Hart’s body was fierce, big, and gorgeous. Free hadn’t realized the number Hart’s ex-wife had done on his self-esteem. A man as in-charge as Hart shouldn’t’ve had an insecure bone in his body. But he did. He had plenty.
At work, he was a different man, a powerhouse, a feared officer of the law. Free stroked Hart’s wide chest, his entire being aching to ease his pain. Here at home, alone. Ivan was a different man—a vulnerable one.
“You feel amazing. I told you, you don’t have to doubt that.” Free held Hart’s face. “Can we leave the kitchen…to the couch, maybe?”
Hart nodded but he went for Free’s lips again. He was on fire now, growing surer with each touch. Free wanted Hart to take over. Needed his control. But, he understood that Hart was learning, just becoming familiar with this side of him, so he had to be patient.
“Ohhh,” Free moaned when Hart went for his throat. His beard scratched the exposed skin of his V-neck shirt and Free wasn’t sure how much pre-come he was going to spill before the real stuff came. With Hart's arms wrapped tightly around his back, Free reclined farther, giving Hart all the skin he wanted. “Yes. Damn, your mouth.”
Hart grunted and bit into his throat, making Free cry out in rapture. He was gonna come. Oh god, he was. It was too much. Free’s dick pulsed rapidly as he lost himself in the buildup. “You’re gonna make me bloody come so hard, love.”
Free didn’t hear the gasp of horror over his own moans of ecstasy but he couldn’t mistake the shrill, “My heavens…stop that!”
Hart cursed as Free was jerked backwards, then he was being forced to his feet on extremely wobbly legs. “What the—?”
“And on my kitchen table, Ivan! With this deviant!”
Free was just able to wrap his confused mind around what was happening, and that they now had a screeching spectator clutching a covered dish of food in one hand and a single key in the other.
Free tried to conceal himself, his cock still pointing toward Hart. The woman’s eyes were bugging out of her head as she turned away from Hart, lasering her steely gaze on Free. If looks could’ve killed, he would’ve been dead and rotting on the floor already. He tried to discreetly maneuver his cock out of view. She glanced down and made a sort of gagging noise at the sight of the stain on his sweats.
“How dare you in my kitchen!” she bellowed and hauled her hand back, slapped the ever-loving-shit out of him before Hart could block her. His head snapped to the left, the sting immediate and hot.
“Shit!” Free clutched his face at the same time Hart lunged for his ex, who already had her hand cocked to land another blow.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Reese? Have you lost your mind?” Hart set his wife farther away and hurried back to Free’s side.
His eyes said it all—how extremely sorry he was—and at that second, Free didn’t blame Hart. But he sure was tired of being threatened, hit, slapped and pushed around in Atlanta. Now, the women were taking shots at him.
“You can’t come in here and assault my company!”
Free righted the rest of his clothes, not sure what to say to this crazy woman. When Hart gently touched Free’s burning cheek, a reflection of utter sorrow showing in those baby blue eyes, all he could do was give him his own look of understanding. This wasn’t his fault. It was neither of theirs.
“I just left my women’s bible study group and came to bring you some leftovers from the potluck, and of course to get my other Pyrex. I heard what happened today and thought you could use a nice meal. Then I come here and see this animal defiling my kitchen.” Hart’s ex went to lunge again, but Hart wouldn’t let her anywhere near him.
“This isn’t your kitchen! We’re divorced. This is my house, not yours. You have no right to come in here like this!” Free hadn’t heard Hart raise his voice before. He wasn’t screaming at her but he was being stern. “You need to leave. Right now.”
Teresa stood there with an angry and very disgusted expression. She would’ve been an attractive woman if she didn’t scowl and snarl like Cruella de Vil. And if she didn’t look at Hart as if he was Sasquatch. “This is how you treat the woman who stayed married to you for twenty-two years?! You do filthy things in my kitchen.”
Free had to get the hell away from this crazy chick before he said something completely out of place on a subject that was none of his business. He moved around Hart
“No. Don’t go. You don’t have to leave. Please. I’m so sorry.” Hart’s eyes went to Free’s cheek. Did he have a mark there? Shit.
He had to reassure him. He reached up and touched Hart’s jaw, ignoring the choked gasp from across the room. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be in your bedroom.”
“The bed…the bedroom! Ivan, what is going on in here? Did Cashel Godfrey talk you into this? You always do anything he tells you to.” Teresa placed her dish on the stove and actually set the oven to warm.
“Teresa! If you don’t leave right now I’m gonna call McCoy. You work for the police department, you can’t go around trespassing and putting your hands on people. If you come to my house again without permission, unannounced, and enter uninvited, I’ll be speaking to your supervisor.”
Teresa whirled around, moisture building quickly in her light brown eyes. She tucked a bunch of her shiny, red locks behind her ear, staring incredulously at Free as he inched past her and hurried down the hall. He assumed the double doors led to Hart’s bedroom and walked inside, keeping the door open a crack so he could watch. He knew Hart’s ex was abusive, but this was insane. He wasn’t taking his eyes off them. Hart walked out of the kitchen, giving Free a wide view. He was still naked from the chest up as he took determined steps through the living room.
“Give me the spare key. I won’t leave it out again.” Hart held his hand out, but his ex didn’t move. Instead, she inched closer, venom spewing from her mouth. Her Texan drawl was more noticeable than Hart’s, and a lot less attractive. She sounded stuck-up.
“I’ll tell everyone what I saw here. You and that boy— he’s probably half your age—you should be sick to your stomach, Ivan. This isn’t befitting of a captain. This is why my babies didn’t survive? You wanted a man, not me. I wasted all those years trying to have kids with you.”
Free’s mouth hung open and his heart sank at Hart’s devastated expression..
“That’s harsh as hell, Reese. Why would you say that?” Hart’s voice was a mere whisper but Free heard it.
Goddamn that kitchen-witch.
“You’re sick.” Teresa looked Hart up and down, and with an annoyed gesture she waved at his torso. “For heaven’s sake. Cover yourself. Have some pride.”
That does it! That. Does. It! Free saw Hart’s robe hanging on the back of his bedroom door. He quickly yanked it off the hook and came back out of the room. Hart glanced up at him, then at the soft, cotton robe in his hands. Free ignored Teresa’s murmured, “Great, you’re back,” careful to keep his eyes on the only person who mattered.
The woman was nothing more but a speck of irrelevancy.
Free gave Hart a warm smile when he was in front of him and opened his robe. He didn’t let Hart take it from him, instead he slid one sleeve up Hart’s thick bicep and slowly walked around his body to help him with the other arm. Hart’s expression was almost comical, he was so stunned. Free came to his front and wrapped both sides together, covering Hart’s chest, and cinching the tie at his middle. Hart stared down at him. His eyes saying ‘thank you’.
Free gave Hart’s ex his back while he tried to infuse as much admiration into his voice as he could, “I would never want to cover you. I’m only doing it now because she can’t appreciate how beautiful you are, so she has no right to look.”
“Excuse me?” she huffed. “I didn’t slap you hard enough, tramp.”
Free had been called a lot of things in his life but never that. He actually thought it kind of funny. He hadn’t been with a man in over a year. It’d been even longer since he’d been with a man he was attracted to and wasn’t afraid of. He knew what he was and what he wasn’t, so he didn’t react to her insult. He focused on Hart. He felt sorry that he’d had to endure her abuse for so long. They were both escapees. So many people thought men weren’t susceptible to physical abuse, but they were and it left a scar, an impact, just like it did for anyone else.
Free ached to give Hart what he deserved. And it didn’t include being forced to listen to this woman’s garbage. She was so mean and full of poison. How the hell did she just come from a bible study group and then come and spout hatred ten minutes later? What the hell kind of bible did they use? The misandry version?
“I’ll only be a minute, Len,” Hart managed, then turned his icy eyes on his ex. “Last warning. You come here again like this and my next call will be to your superior, then to a judge for a restraining order. Trespassing is illegal and so is aggravated assault.”
Free let his smile spread across his face as he slowly walked back toward the bedroom. He liked the sound of Hart standing up to her. He hoped he had a little something to do with that. Free still wanted to watch her, just in case she tried to get handsy again, Hart would need a witness. Instead of putting up more of a fight, she threw out a few more, ‘you ruined my life, Ivans’, then slammed the door. Did she think they were gonna get back together? Was that why she still came around? Free didn’t know, and he couldn’t say he was much up for competition. Although for Hart, he’d fight—and it’d be worth it.
Hart
Hart quickly locked up behind Teresa and turned out the few remaining lights in the living room. He was almost hesitant to walk in the direction of his bedroom. Free had to be mortified. And completely over the crazy. Hart was supposed to be someone he felt safe with. Goddamnit. He gripped his beard roughly, then scratched at his chin. He immediately had a mind to call God for advice, but he wouldn’t let Free just sit back there—probably with his backpack on his shoulder.
Damn you, Reese. You conniving little horror. I can’t believe you touched him. Hart was humiliated. Free hated violence and he’d unfortunately just got a big taste of what Hart’s life had been like those twenty-plus years. Then for her to say those things about the children they’d lost… how could she?
Hart hurried into the kitchen and grabbed a fresh dish towel, and took a small bag of baby lima beans out of the freezer and laid it inside. He walked down the hall with his stomach in his throat. They’d been having the most amazing time, and it’d been ruined. He felt devastated that his first experience had been destroyed. He wanted tonight to be special for both of them. Now he had to go in there and ask Free if he wanted to press charges on his ex. He’d have every right to.
Hart went for the door handle and froze a moment. What if he was standing there with his backpack on his shoulder and the perfect excuse to leave? Please don’t, Len. Hart mumbled a small prayer and pushed the door open. He glanced around the room but he didn’t see Free anywhere. He wasn’t in the bathroom because it was also dark. Damn, did he jump out the window?
Hart walked around the corner toward the recessed alcove and there in his king-sized bed, lying right in the center was Lennox Freeman, bare-chested and smiling. Hart went to take another step but his big feet felt as if they were made of lead.
Free wasn’t naked, he had the covers lowered to just below his pelvic bone, his boxer briefs’ label peeking out from underneath. Free stared into Hart’s eyes as he ran one hand over the sparse amount of silky black hair on his olive-toned chest.
Free’s smirk was so damn sexy when he whispered, “Not as much hair as on yours. But it’s some. You like it?”
Mother of— Hart had to find his voice, and when he did, his declaration came out husky and strained, “You’re beautiful, Len.” Beautiful for sticking up for me, beautiful for touching me, beautiful for staying and not leaving me.
“I thought maybe we could chill for a little while and watch some of that ‘mindless TV’ you mentioned earlier.” Free lost his teasing smile and sat up with a more serious expression, “I know you’ve had a hard day, and if you just want to get in bed alone right now then I’d understand. But after everything that just…well. I thought maybe you could use a friend tonight. We don’t have to do anything, just chill, yes?”
I have to be dreaming. He can’t think…
“The reddish hairs on the top.” Free moved his hips a couple of inches closer, and Hart almost came out of the chair. Almost. His dick was so hard and cramped in those stupid briefs. He couldn’t believe he thought that’d be a good idea. “You’re so sexy, Ivan.”
Hart shook his head at his good fortune. His hands still roamed up and down Free’s back. It all felt surreal. Free dipped his head and kissed the side of his temple.
“Len.” Hart didn’t know what else to say.
Sure fingers clutched his chin and tilted his head up. Caught in the moment, it felt like neither of them breathed as Free’s lips made for his own. The first touch was so delicate, he barely felt it. The next press of that warm mouth against his was confident and more excited. There were no probing tongues, just a delectable, inquiring kiss. One that was meant to say, ‘hello, welcome to the start of this’. Hart exhaled roughly and angled his head for more.
“Ivan, I’ve wanted to touch you…kiss you for so long.” Free breathed against his lips, and damn if Hart didn’t think that would make him blow. He closed his eyes and tried to will his cock not to erupt, but it wasn’t every day he had a hot man on his lap paying him compliments. Free moaned in his ear, settling deeper into his lap. Hart’s eyes rolled behind his lids. Then more of those gentle kisses were placed on the corner of his mouth.
Hart slowed his shaking hands, they were in no rush. He sat still, panting, with his head in Free’s grasp while he spoiled him with his touch. While he showed him the comfort of a man.
“Your hands feel good on me,” Free said, making his way back to his mouth. That typically suave, melodic voice was husky and sexy as he moved his hips, the more powerful his massage got.
Hart wanted to say he felt the same, but his jaw was clenched tight. He didn’t want to humiliate himself in front of such a virile man. But, God help him, he was already on the edge. Then Free rubbed his hand over his freshly shaven head again, then down his neck, into his tank top. Never once did he cringe or pull his hand back at the hair he found there. No—Free was damn near petting him, his caresses so heartfelt.
Mmmmm. Shit, baby. Hart needed more pressure on his cock. Anything to justify being so damn hard. Free had to feel his arousal too, briefs could only conceal so much. He wasn’t embarrassed, because Free was just as solid as him.
“Kiss me some more,” Free demanded.
Oh my god. Hart tilted his head, slightly parting his lips so he could get enough oxygen. Free’s tongue was slippery and warm. Hart grunted loudly, his hips jerking forward.
Free smiled, then went back to kissing.
It’d been a long time since he’d done this, so he let Free take the lead. Hart chased Free’s tongue with his own and sucked on his plump bottom lip. That, he could do. And Free’s moans spurred him on to do more. Hart flexed his hips, pressing his bare heels into the floor for leverage, “I want…unnghh. God, Len. I…”
“Tell me. It’s okay. It’s just me and you here, Ivan.” Free rotated his hips with a bit more persistence, pressing down on him as if he was silently begging for it.
He didn’t give a damn who was there. He’d waited years for this moment. He just wanted to keep being touched and embraced. Every now and then, Free would wrap both arms around his neck and squeeze him as if he was giving him a great big ‘thank you’ then would go back to massaging… and kissing. They stayed this way, exploring more with their touches.
Before he could think better of it, Hart growled urgently. “I want you, Len.”
Free paused his subtle gyration.
Hart didn’t mean to say it like that. His lust was in overdrive and his granite-hard dick was robbing him of his rational thoughts. So he went primal. Want. Man. You. Now. That was the most his brain could give him.
“You can have me.” Free kissed him with soul. “You can have whatever you want. I just want to see you. I want to see more.”
Free went for the hem of Hart’s tank top and boldly lifted it up and over his head. A bolt of insecurity hit him like lightning when Free dropped his eyes to his pecs. Thick, dark hair covered his upper body, then tapered down over his stomach and into his pants. Plenty of it. Hart almost closed his eyes, not wanting to see the same look of disgust that Teresa used to give him when he got naked. But he was glad he didn’t. Otherwise, he would’ve missed the hungry, almost predatory gleam in Free’s dark eyes, irises that shimmered like hot coal. Trembling hands dove into his furry abs as if his hair was fine silk. Then Free moved again.
Jesus Christ. “This feel good to you?” Do I feel good to you? Hart asked, when Free pressed their chest and groins together, wrenching long, tortured groans from both of them.
“Men don’t fake it very well, Ivan,” Free rasped, his cock obscenely tenting his pants. No, there was no faking that. “Your body is better than I imagined.”
How?
As if he’d heard his internal thoughts, Free continued, “Hard and firm. Then soft in just the right places. With your arms around me I feel like I’m untouchable. I feel like I can do anything I want because you’re right here.” Free’s dark eyes dropped to his mouth, “And your beard isn’t as rough as I thought, but still enough to leave a nice burn on my face. I wanna know where else is covered with hair.”
Unnngh. Hart’s cock throbbed angrily beneath Free’s ass. Okay, he was convinced. Free did have an unusual obsession with his hair, and like he’d said men didn’t have to fake it. Hart glanced down at Free’s straining erection that’d now made a sizable damp spot on his light gray sweats. Fuck, he’s really not faking. Maybe his best friend was right. This could work out. He could have something special, too.
Free
Shit, what was he doing? He was on top of Hart’s wide lap and he no longer had control over his actions. He was going on blazing unadulterated lust. Hart’s body was fierce, big, and gorgeous. Free hadn’t realized the number Hart’s ex-wife had done on his self-esteem. A man as in-charge as Hart shouldn’t’ve had an insecure bone in his body. But he did. He had plenty.
At work, he was a different man, a powerhouse, a feared officer of the law. Free stroked Hart’s wide chest, his entire being aching to ease his pain. Here at home, alone. Ivan was a different man—a vulnerable one.
“You feel amazing. I told you, you don’t have to doubt that.” Free held Hart’s face. “Can we leave the kitchen…to the couch, maybe?”
Hart nodded but he went for Free’s lips again. He was on fire now, growing surer with each touch. Free wanted Hart to take over. Needed his control. But, he understood that Hart was learning, just becoming familiar with this side of him, so he had to be patient.
“Ohhh,” Free moaned when Hart went for his throat. His beard scratched the exposed skin of his V-neck shirt and Free wasn’t sure how much pre-come he was going to spill before the real stuff came. With Hart's arms wrapped tightly around his back, Free reclined farther, giving Hart all the skin he wanted. “Yes. Damn, your mouth.”
Hart grunted and bit into his throat, making Free cry out in rapture. He was gonna come. Oh god, he was. It was too much. Free’s dick pulsed rapidly as he lost himself in the buildup. “You’re gonna make me bloody come so hard, love.”
Free didn’t hear the gasp of horror over his own moans of ecstasy but he couldn’t mistake the shrill, “My heavens…stop that!”
Hart cursed as Free was jerked backwards, then he was being forced to his feet on extremely wobbly legs. “What the—?”
“And on my kitchen table, Ivan! With this deviant!”
Free was just able to wrap his confused mind around what was happening, and that they now had a screeching spectator clutching a covered dish of food in one hand and a single key in the other.
Free tried to conceal himself, his cock still pointing toward Hart. The woman’s eyes were bugging out of her head as she turned away from Hart, lasering her steely gaze on Free. If looks could’ve killed, he would’ve been dead and rotting on the floor already. He tried to discreetly maneuver his cock out of view. She glanced down and made a sort of gagging noise at the sight of the stain on his sweats.
“How dare you in my kitchen!” she bellowed and hauled her hand back, slapped the ever-loving-shit out of him before Hart could block her. His head snapped to the left, the sting immediate and hot.
“Shit!” Free clutched his face at the same time Hart lunged for his ex, who already had her hand cocked to land another blow.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Reese? Have you lost your mind?” Hart set his wife farther away and hurried back to Free’s side.
His eyes said it all—how extremely sorry he was—and at that second, Free didn’t blame Hart. But he sure was tired of being threatened, hit, slapped and pushed around in Atlanta. Now, the women were taking shots at him.
“You can’t come in here and assault my company!”
Free righted the rest of his clothes, not sure what to say to this crazy woman. When Hart gently touched Free’s burning cheek, a reflection of utter sorrow showing in those baby blue eyes, all he could do was give him his own look of understanding. This wasn’t his fault. It was neither of theirs.
“I just left my women’s bible study group and came to bring you some leftovers from the potluck, and of course to get my other Pyrex. I heard what happened today and thought you could use a nice meal. Then I come here and see this animal defiling my kitchen.” Hart’s ex went to lunge again, but Hart wouldn’t let her anywhere near him.
“This isn’t your kitchen! We’re divorced. This is my house, not yours. You have no right to come in here like this!” Free hadn’t heard Hart raise his voice before. He wasn’t screaming at her but he was being stern. “You need to leave. Right now.”
Teresa stood there with an angry and very disgusted expression. She would’ve been an attractive woman if she didn’t scowl and snarl like Cruella de Vil. And if she didn’t look at Hart as if he was Sasquatch. “This is how you treat the woman who stayed married to you for twenty-two years?! You do filthy things in my kitchen.”
Free had to get the hell away from this crazy chick before he said something completely out of place on a subject that was none of his business. He moved around Hart
“No. Don’t go. You don’t have to leave. Please. I’m so sorry.” Hart’s eyes went to Free’s cheek. Did he have a mark there? Shit.
He had to reassure him. He reached up and touched Hart’s jaw, ignoring the choked gasp from across the room. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be in your bedroom.”
“The bed…the bedroom! Ivan, what is going on in here? Did Cashel Godfrey talk you into this? You always do anything he tells you to.” Teresa placed her dish on the stove and actually set the oven to warm.
“Teresa! If you don’t leave right now I’m gonna call McCoy. You work for the police department, you can’t go around trespassing and putting your hands on people. If you come to my house again without permission, unannounced, and enter uninvited, I’ll be speaking to your supervisor.”
Teresa whirled around, moisture building quickly in her light brown eyes. She tucked a bunch of her shiny, red locks behind her ear, staring incredulously at Free as he inched past her and hurried down the hall. He assumed the double doors led to Hart’s bedroom and walked inside, keeping the door open a crack so he could watch. He knew Hart’s ex was abusive, but this was insane. He wasn’t taking his eyes off them. Hart walked out of the kitchen, giving Free a wide view. He was still naked from the chest up as he took determined steps through the living room.
“Give me the spare key. I won’t leave it out again.” Hart held his hand out, but his ex didn’t move. Instead, she inched closer, venom spewing from her mouth. Her Texan drawl was more noticeable than Hart’s, and a lot less attractive. She sounded stuck-up.
“I’ll tell everyone what I saw here. You and that boy— he’s probably half your age—you should be sick to your stomach, Ivan. This isn’t befitting of a captain. This is why my babies didn’t survive? You wanted a man, not me. I wasted all those years trying to have kids with you.”
Free’s mouth hung open and his heart sank at Hart’s devastated expression..
“That’s harsh as hell, Reese. Why would you say that?” Hart’s voice was a mere whisper but Free heard it.
Goddamn that kitchen-witch.
“You’re sick.” Teresa looked Hart up and down, and with an annoyed gesture she waved at his torso. “For heaven’s sake. Cover yourself. Have some pride.”
That does it! That. Does. It! Free saw Hart’s robe hanging on the back of his bedroom door. He quickly yanked it off the hook and came back out of the room. Hart glanced up at him, then at the soft, cotton robe in his hands. Free ignored Teresa’s murmured, “Great, you’re back,” careful to keep his eyes on the only person who mattered.
The woman was nothing more but a speck of irrelevancy.
Free gave Hart a warm smile when he was in front of him and opened his robe. He didn’t let Hart take it from him, instead he slid one sleeve up Hart’s thick bicep and slowly walked around his body to help him with the other arm. Hart’s expression was almost comical, he was so stunned. Free came to his front and wrapped both sides together, covering Hart’s chest, and cinching the tie at his middle. Hart stared down at him. His eyes saying ‘thank you’.
Free gave Hart’s ex his back while he tried to infuse as much admiration into his voice as he could, “I would never want to cover you. I’m only doing it now because she can’t appreciate how beautiful you are, so she has no right to look.”
“Excuse me?” she huffed. “I didn’t slap you hard enough, tramp.”
Free had been called a lot of things in his life but never that. He actually thought it kind of funny. He hadn’t been with a man in over a year. It’d been even longer since he’d been with a man he was attracted to and wasn’t afraid of. He knew what he was and what he wasn’t, so he didn’t react to her insult. He focused on Hart. He felt sorry that he’d had to endure her abuse for so long. They were both escapees. So many people thought men weren’t susceptible to physical abuse, but they were and it left a scar, an impact, just like it did for anyone else.
Free ached to give Hart what he deserved. And it didn’t include being forced to listen to this woman’s garbage. She was so mean and full of poison. How the hell did she just come from a bible study group and then come and spout hatred ten minutes later? What the hell kind of bible did they use? The misandry version?
“I’ll only be a minute, Len,” Hart managed, then turned his icy eyes on his ex. “Last warning. You come here again like this and my next call will be to your superior, then to a judge for a restraining order. Trespassing is illegal and so is aggravated assault.”
Free let his smile spread across his face as he slowly walked back toward the bedroom. He liked the sound of Hart standing up to her. He hoped he had a little something to do with that. Free still wanted to watch her, just in case she tried to get handsy again, Hart would need a witness. Instead of putting up more of a fight, she threw out a few more, ‘you ruined my life, Ivans’, then slammed the door. Did she think they were gonna get back together? Was that why she still came around? Free didn’t know, and he couldn’t say he was much up for competition. Although for Hart, he’d fight—and it’d be worth it.
Hart
Hart quickly locked up behind Teresa and turned out the few remaining lights in the living room. He was almost hesitant to walk in the direction of his bedroom. Free had to be mortified. And completely over the crazy. Hart was supposed to be someone he felt safe with. Goddamnit. He gripped his beard roughly, then scratched at his chin. He immediately had a mind to call God for advice, but he wouldn’t let Free just sit back there—probably with his backpack on his shoulder.
Damn you, Reese. You conniving little horror. I can’t believe you touched him. Hart was humiliated. Free hated violence and he’d unfortunately just got a big taste of what Hart’s life had been like those twenty-plus years. Then for her to say those things about the children they’d lost… how could she?
Hart hurried into the kitchen and grabbed a fresh dish towel, and took a small bag of baby lima beans out of the freezer and laid it inside. He walked down the hall with his stomach in his throat. They’d been having the most amazing time, and it’d been ruined. He felt devastated that his first experience had been destroyed. He wanted tonight to be special for both of them. Now he had to go in there and ask Free if he wanted to press charges on his ex. He’d have every right to.
Hart went for the door handle and froze a moment. What if he was standing there with his backpack on his shoulder and the perfect excuse to leave? Please don’t, Len. Hart mumbled a small prayer and pushed the door open. He glanced around the room but he didn’t see Free anywhere. He wasn’t in the bathroom because it was also dark. Damn, did he jump out the window?
Hart walked around the corner toward the recessed alcove and there in his king-sized bed, lying right in the center was Lennox Freeman, bare-chested and smiling. Hart went to take another step but his big feet felt as if they were made of lead.
Free wasn’t naked, he had the covers lowered to just below his pelvic bone, his boxer briefs’ label peeking out from underneath. Free stared into Hart’s eyes as he ran one hand over the sparse amount of silky black hair on his olive-toned chest.
Free’s smirk was so damn sexy when he whispered, “Not as much hair as on yours. But it’s some. You like it?”
Mother of— Hart had to find his voice, and when he did, his declaration came out husky and strained, “You’re beautiful, Len.” Beautiful for sticking up for me, beautiful for touching me, beautiful for staying and not leaving me.
“I thought maybe we could chill for a little while and watch some of that ‘mindless TV’ you mentioned earlier.” Free lost his teasing smile and sat up with a more serious expression, “I know you’ve had a hard day, and if you just want to get in bed alone right now then I’d understand. But after everything that just…well. I thought maybe you could use a friend tonight. We don’t have to do anything, just chill, yes?”
