Page 29 of Collin: Episodes 1-3
His hands rose to the button at Collin’s throat. “May I?”
“Do what?”
“Show you.”
“If you want to.”
“If I want to…?”
“If you want to, sir.”
Damian grinned. He slid the first through fourth buttons loose until the shirt was open to Collin’s belly. Then he placed a hand against Collin’s undefined abs. Collin gritted his teeth. Damian smelled like sin and Mr. Reevesworth and heat. His heartbeat thudded against Collin’s back as he held Collin close. So loud as if it was as large as his whole chest and powerful as a taiko drum.
Damian’s other hand came up and finished the last of the bottoms. He dragged Collin’s shirt off his shoulders from behind, trapping Collin’s arms. His other hand slid up Collin’s chest, leaving light red marks, and wrapped around Collin’s throat.
Collin shuddered.
“Now look at yourself.”
He did.
The young man staring back at him with half-unfocused eyes looked nothing like the Collin in his head. Gone were the worst of the black marks under his eyes. The lights made his pale skin glow instead of looking sallow like he expected. Damian’s dark strong body wrapped around his, edging him in a frame of desire.
Collin swallowed behind Damian’s hand.
Damian’s smile widened. He let go slowly “Now strip. Breakfast is in twenty minutes. And I don’t have permission.”
“Permission to do what?”
Damian raised an eyebrow.
Collin blushed. “Permission to do what, sir?”
“Permission to bend you over that counter and show you exactly how foolish you are to be ashamed of being naked in front of me.”
Collin’s flush deepened to the point his cheeks burned. He turned his back quickly and pushed down his pants.
The room spun a little. He put a hand out to catch himself on the wall. Damian caught him and pulled him close. “Not so fast.”
Collin swallowed back bile and nodded.
Mr. Moreau brought Collin his breakfast in the bedroom. He set it at a small table by the window on the far side of the bed, opposite from the bathroom.
“Do you think you can make it over here?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.” Collin smoothed his hands over the shirt and pants Damian had shown him. They were softer than anything he owned except for the oldest T-shirts in his closet, the ones he’d taken from his dad’s closet when his mother wasn’t looking.
“We’ll be in the kitchen if you need us. Just ring the bell.”
“Yes, sir.”
Collin sat. The chair was soft and swiveled. Breakfast was a veggie omelet with goat cheese and sun-dried tomatoes. There was a cup of green tea and two small helpings of fermented veggies. One was red and white and smelled strong, and the other looked like pickles but smaller than Collin was used to. It came with a bowl of white rice.
Collin ate it all. Even the hot strong-smelling stuff. It tasted better mixed with bites of the egg from the omelet. Actually, mixing everything made it taste better. He put bits of the omelet into the bowl with the rice.
Finished, he stood slowly and made his way out of the door into the living room with the tray. Collin stepped around a glass coffee table and several couches and stuffed chairs. It was a calm, comfortable room with a strong masculine bent with blues, grays, and soft white accents mixed with glimmers of silver.
Mr. Reevesworth’s voice resonated against the walls. “Thank you, Émeric. That was a lovely breakfast. Damian, can you take the meeting today at four with the drafter? I’m afraid I’ll be busy with this Andy situation.”
