Page 13 of Surface Scratch
He glanced at the top of the metal shelving, seeing the last six-pack of a dark Irish beer pushed far back against the wall, sitting alone and forgotten with frost formed along the neck. There was no way he was going to be able to reach that, but he didn’t want to ask Marcus for an assist. He stepped onto the lip of the lower shelf and hoisted himself up while gripping the frigid metal rail above him. He ran his fingers underneath the slatted shelf, poking the bottom of the twelve-pack to inch it toward the edge of the shelf so he could grab it.
Caleb heard Marcus breathe out a laugh through his nose. He blushed, a flash of embarrassment and anger flashing through his mind for a moment before he refocused his eyes on his task. He was laughing instead of helping.You told him you didn’t want help, don’t bitch now,he told himself. He sighed. That was true. He opened his eyes and kept prodding the cardboard case. Almost there.
A slender hand appeared beside his and grabbed hold of the six-pack. Caleb turned to his right, seeing Marcus standing next to him with a smile on his face as he pulled down the beer. Caleb’s stomach twisted and his heart leaped, an undeniable excitement building in him. Marcus was incredibly close to him again, closer than they had been in the two weeks since that day. His eyes drifted down to Marcus’s lips, just for a second, but that was enough to send another flutter of butterflies through him. “I don’t want you to drop this on your head,” Marcus said.
Caleb stepped down from the shelving and pursed his lips. He just needed to keep looking down, away from Marcus’s face, and ride out the feeling that he was somehow making a huge mistake by not jumping at the opportunity to kiss him again. That first time was a fluke, probably from a combination of propofol and a concussion. He hadn’t been crushed by indecision then.
He would have kept looking down if it hadn’t been for the bright red spot on the sleeve of Marcus’s dress shirt that looked like blood. He had seen Marcus wipe his mouth on his sleeve. Caleb raised his eyes from the stain as Marcus set down the six-pack on his dolly of beer. “Are you bleeding?”
Marcus didn’t say anything. His gaze remained fixed as he seemed to be staring at something inside of Caleb’s own wide brown eyes. His face was stern looking, but not angry or mean. Maybe focused? Whatever it was, it made Caleb feel very small, as if the few inches of height that separated their eyeline was a mile tall. He wondered for a moment if he would still feel that small if they cuddled together. He’d probably be the little spoon in that scenario.
Shit, not helping. You’re supposed to be trying not to think about this.He balled his fists at his sides and dug a canine tooth into his cheek so hard he winced. A shiver shook his body, though whether it was from his nerves or the cold of the walk-in fridge was unclear. He forced himself to turn away from Marcus and placed a hand on the dolly. He had already been gone long enough he was surprised Ophelia hadn’t picked up the Walkie-Talkie and started yelling at him.
“Caleb.” Marcus’s voice tore through the fog of his mind. He sounded low and breathless, like he had just finished running a marathon.
Before he could turn back fully, he felt Marcus’s body crash into his, an arm snaking around his lower back and another hand sliding along his goosebump laden neck, knocking his earpiece loose, their lips suddenly molded to each other’s.
Caleb gasped into Marcus’s mouth, his blood and skin on fire as he stumbled back, pressing his hands against Marcus’s shoulders and grabbing fistfuls of his dress shirt. He had meant to push Marcus away, but instead they were anchored together. Marcus’s lips and tongue were cool against his own, making the burning feeling worse, and he wrapped his arms around Marcus’s back like having more of him would cool the feeling taking him over.
His heels bumped against a box and he found himself half sitting, half standing on a box of something lumpy. Marcus bit down on Caleb’s lower lip, not hard but not gently either, sending a jolt of heat and electricity to his groin. A moan escaped from his throat into Marcus’s mouth as he resumed furiously kissing him, the scent of cologne and tobacco dizzying his senses as he tasted that same metallic taste on Marcus’s lips from before.
Marcus stepped between his legs, pressing himself against Caleb’s body and pinning him to the wall, gripping the back of Caleb’s head and neck, pulling him so hard into the kiss it almost hurt. Caleb felt Marcus’s other hand move from the small of his back and wander around his midriff for a moment before it began tugging his tucked shirt free from his pants. Marcus’s cool hand found his bare belly and ran along his side, the touch sending little jolts of electric euphoria to his groin.
His cock twitched, and he instinctively went to push Marcus’s arm away. He was shaking, his heart racing with adrenaline and desire. He knew he should stop Marcus before clothes started coming off in the walk-in, but he couldn’t. He wanted more.
Marcus grabbed his wrist and pinned it against the cold metal wall next to his face, a low sound like a growl coming from him as his other hand moved from Caleb’s neck to his throat. In any other circumstance, Caleb would have been frightened by the hand resting against his throat, but he melted further into the kiss instead, his knees wide apart as Marcus pressed up against him. He could feel the hard length of Marcus’s erection against him and he felt himself suddenly dizzy, the weight of the man and his crushing anticipation draining whatever blood remained in his head straight down into his crotch.
Marcus’s mouth pulled away, his lips grazing over the scar on Caleb’s jaw and making their way down to his neck while the hand that held his throat drifted down as well, pausing in the center of his chest as if to feel the racing heart beneath. Caleb gasped as Marcus’s teeth, tongue, and lips nipped at the vulnerable skin on his neck, a shudder making him dig his nails into Marcus’s back. He had never felt anything so weird and pleasurable before. Caleb’s hand found the back of Marcus’s head, running his fingers through Marcus’s gray-streaked hair as he bit down on his lower lip. Was he making too much noise? Were his reactions an embarrassing giveaway to the fact that he was a timid virgin technically on his third kiss ever?
Caleb felt Marcus’s lips leave his neck as he breathed hard against Caleb’s neck as if he were catching his breath. The cold air of the fridge instantly chilled his lips and neck. He heard a low rumble come from Marcus, like a sigh, a moan, and a growl all at once. Caleb’s eyes popped open and he stared up at the cold metal ceiling, half expecting to see floating hearts and fireworks. Why did he stop?
“Marcus, I—” He was cut off again as Marcus’s soft lips met his own and sealed the words back into his mouth. The brief moment of lucidity was gone, thrown back into an endless pool of desire that Caleb had always known was there, but he’d had no idea how deep it went. His whole body tensed as Marcus’s hand drifted below his waist, pausing for a moment and resting on his belt buckle.
Caleb’s grip tightened on Marcus’s back. Was this happening? He felt Marcus smile against his lips, letting out a huff of amusement as his hand slipped between Caleb’s legs.
The world may as well have stopped turning and flung him off into space.
And as quickly as Marcus had had him against the wall, he was suddenly panting alone, the arm that had been pinned to the wall falling limp by his side. The warm fury that had been growing between their bodies was gone, replaced by the cold ambiance of the fridge as it dawned on him that Marcus had jumped back and was standing several feet away as he turned away from Caleb, his hand shielding his face.
Caleb leaned forward, his chest and thighs on fire as he felt a swirl of sadness and anger bubbling up. Was Marcus rejecting him again? Afterthatjust happened? He could still taste the man’s tongue in his mouth, for God’s sake. Why was he doing this?
“Marcus, what…?”
Marcus slowly lowered his hand from his face, his brow furrowed as he looked at Caleb, his lips and the skin around his mouth still red from their faces being pressed together. Instead of saying anything, he grabbed his clipboard just as the door to the walk-in fridge made a hissing sound as it opened.
Andrew walked through the door, phone in hand as he tapped the screen. “Caleb, Ophelia sent me in here to beat your ass for taking too long,” he said. He looked up and jumped a little before stuffing his phone in a pocket. “Oh, hey, boss, what are you doing in here?”
Marcus rushed past him, holding the clipboard to his chest. “Inventory,” he mumbled, disappearing behind the door and back out into the kitchen.
“What’s up his ass?” Andrew asked, cocking an eyebrow at Caleb. He straightened when his eyes landed on Caleb. “Hey, man, are you okay? You look like you’re going to pass out.”
Caleb stood up slowly, rotating his hips so he could stuff his shirt back into his waist and hide the arousal straining behind his zipper. He waited for the usual flushing heat of embarrassment to hit him, but it didn’t come. All he felt was cold and hurt in a way that he hadn’t known he could. His chest ached, and as much as he wanted to believe it was from the cold air of the walk-in, he knew it was the sting of rejection, the same thing he’d felt sitting on Marcus’s couch while he waited for Ophelia to walk him home.
“I’m fine,” he said, turning back toward Andrew. “I just got a little dizzy and had to sit for a second. Probably something from the concussion.”
“And Marcus didn’t offer to take this to up to the queen for you? What a dick.” Andrew rolled his eyes. His annoyed expression fell quickly as he studied Caleb’s face, then spread into an almost plastered-on smile. He grabbed the dolly and held his arm out. “Come on, I’ll make sure you don’t pass out on the way back.”
Caleb nodded solemnly and stepped up beside Andrew, allowing the bigger man to drape an arm over his shoulders. The pain in his chest was almost as bad as when he had first woken with his ribs black and blue, but it felt somehow worse because it was all in the dead center of his chest. He could barely hear Andrew as he talked a mile a minute about something that had happened earlier in the night. His mind was jolting back and forth between sadness and anger, his cold skin finally warming as he settled on anger. What was it about him that made Marcus think he could do that to him again?
