Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Everything moved fast from the moment Rafe and Jake made their decision to go after Hélène.
“Do you have enough packed?” his mum asked as she drove the two of them to the nearest train station. “There’s no telling how long this might take. Did you bring enough changes of pants?”
“Mum,” Rafe mumbled, face heating. He peeked over his shoulder to Jake in the backseat.
“You never know with these things,” his mum said, also checking on Jake in the back. “You never know what might happen. Extra pants might come in handy.”
Jake subtly put his hand over his mouth and glanced out the window, pretending not to pay attention, but his shoulders shook. That was all the proof Rafe needed that Jake understood the British definition of “pants”.
“We’re going down there to confront Hélène at her studio in an attempt to strike a deal with her to take down her posts and give the two of us credit for our work. This isn’t some wild holiday weekend.”
“Of course,” his mum said, peeking sideways as if he was lying to cover up the true purpose of the trip.
Rafe didn’t say anything more about it, since they’d reached the train station anyhow.
They said their goodbyes, and then it became a waiting game.
“I still think it’s amazing that you can just order train tickets to a different country online and then pop down to the local train station, whiz through a queue, hop aboard, and get there,” Jake said as they waited on the platform in Aylesford.
Rafe grunted. “It still takes too long, if you ask me. The queue at St. Pancras will be awful.”
He couldn’t shake the feeling that time was of the essence. Hélène had made her social media post that morning, and the longer they let it stand, the harder it would be to get her to go back on her treachery. Rafe didn’t think there was much hope of exposing Hélène’s treachery to begin with, but waiting for failure was even harder than anticipating success.
The train into London felt like it was moving through treacle, and the queue at St. Pancras was every bit as slow and ponderous as he’d feared it would be, which didn’t help Rafe’s mood at all.
“It’ll be fine,” Jake said once they’d finally boarded the Eurostar and settled in their seats. “I know how people like this operate. If Hélène cares about her reputation at all, she’ll do whatever it takes to keep things quiet and avoid any appearance of wrongdoing. It’s appearances that matter to people like this.”
Rafe sent him a worried, hopeful look as the English countryside rushed past. “I hope you’re right,” he said.
He slid his hand into Jake’s and was surprised when Jake took it and squeezed with both hands. His entire relationship with Jake had been a yo-yo so far. One minute he’d been lusting after the man and the next he’d been furious with him and felt betrayed.
But there was something more in Jake’s eyes as the two of them shared that moment of uncertainty on the speeding train, sunset painting the sky outside the windows. For all his lies and desperate grasps at whatever he thought would make people like him, Jake was a good man. He was lively and full of inventiveness. You had to be inventive to be such a convincing liar.
Maybe Jake’s only real problem was the way he’d been treated in the past. Rafe had no idea what sort of damage coming from a hostile family could cause someone like him and Jake. He’d always had the support of the entire, extended Hawthorne clan to get him through life’s ups and downs. Jake had never had that. He wasn’t ready to shrug Jake’s lying off and pretend it didn’t matter, but he could see himself working with Jake to get the help he needed and to make a happier life for himself.
As fast as the trip to Paris was, it still felt as though it took forever. Somehow, in the middle of the tension that still surrounded them, Jake managed to fall asleep as darkness settled in and the train zoomed through the night. He rested his head on Rafe’s shoulder, though how he could actually sleep in that position was beyond Rafe, and snored lightly a time or two.
By the time the train pulled into Paris Nord, Rafe just wanted to get everything over with so he and Jake could go home and figure out what they were going to do with the rest of their lives.
“Mum gave me the address of Hélène’s studio,” he said as they joined the long queue for taxis outside the station. “It’s along the Rue de Charenton, a little further south than here. It shouldn’t take too long to get there.”
Half an hour later, those felt like famous last words to Rafe. Paris traffic was horrific, and Hélène’s hot shop happened to be in a fashionable area near some of the more touristy parts of the city.
“Of course she would set herself up somewhere flashy and central,” Jake said as the two of them approached the old building on its quaint and quirky street.
Rafe’s uncertainty about what they were doing grew as he shivered at the dark, unfriendly feeling of the building. The windows were blacked out, and there was no light coming from the other side of the cracks in the paint.
“I wonder if we have the wrong address,” he said as he walked right up to the building and cupped his hands to the glass so that he could look through one of the chips in the paint.
Jake did the same, and a moment later, he hummed. “I can’t see anything. Either she’s got things blocking the windows besides black paint or your mum has the wrong address.”
Rafe pulled back, shaking his head but still staring at the blank window. “Mum is clever. She knows how to get things that most people don’t have access to. This as to be Hélène’s studio, she’s just not here.”
Jake peeked sideways at him. Rafe felt the careful uncertainty in his expression. He wasn’t going to question Rafe or his mum, but it was clear he wasn’t confident.
“Why don’t we try coming back tomorrow,” he said resting a hand on Rafe’s arm. “It’s clear that whatever this is, the building isn’t abandoned. But it’s late, and even Hélène wouldn’t stay up working when she could be getting dinner and finding a place to stay?” Jake’s eyebrows went up with his implied question.
Rafe blew out a breath and stepped back from the building. “I just want this whole thing over and done with as quickly as possible so we can move on,” he said, hitching the backpack containing his clothes and toiletries for their trip higher over his shoulder.
“Me, too,” Jake said, smiling at him and gesturing for him to walk back down the street. “Come on. I think I saw a hotel down this way before we got dropped off.”
There were several hotels in the area, but Rafe turned up his nose at the first few, not because he didn’t like the look of them, but because he needed to walk off his anxiety before he would be anywhere near ready to go to bed. Even then, he was sure he’d never get to sleep.
“There’s too much at stake,” he told Jake as they sat at one of the outdoor tables at a Moroccan restaurant they’d stumbled across and decided to patronize for a long-overdue supper. Then again, it was Paris, eating supper after ten wasn’t all that unusual. “I can’t help but feel like our entire careers are in Hélène’s hands at the moment, and that’s not a safe place for them to be.”
“What sort of career are we talking about here?” Jake asked as he finished off the last of his zaalouk with a large piece of pita. “Is your heart set on being as big a name in the glass world as Hélène or the rest of them?”
Rafe blinked and stared at his mostly finished plate of couscous. That was the point, wasn’t it? To work hard and make a name for himself so that museums and galleries around the world got into bidding wars to purchase his pieces?
“I want to make my family proud,” he said, raising his eyes to Jake’s.
Jake laughed lightly and finished the last of his pita. “You already make them proud,” he said after swallowing. “That’s clearer to me than anything else. Your whole family is proud of you. All of the Hawthornes are proud of each other, which is way more than I could ever say about my family. And you all tell each other all the time.”
It was true. Rafe knew just how lucky he was.
“You could leave the art world entirely and go to work in some London office and your family would still be proud of you,” Jake went on. He paused, then laughed. “That’s totally the other way around from how things usually are. Usually families are proud of their kids working in offices and they cringe if they leave a steady job like that to become a professional artist. This isn’t exactly the most stable career choice.”
“But you chose it,” Rafe said. “Why? Why not work in an office or as a computer programmer or something?”
Jake grinned. “I can’t be contained like that, baby,” he said, raising his mostly empty beer glass to salute Rafe. “You know I’d lose my mind if I was confined to an office or a cube every day for my entire life. Personally, I don’t think humans were ever meant to sit at a desk all day, every day. We were meant to work with our hands or out in a field. We were meant to talk and laugh and sing while we plant the fields or head off into battle.”
“Dad says the same thing all the time,” Rafe said, finishing off his beer as well.
They put their glasses down at the same time, then stared at each other across the dim light cast by electric lamps all around the front of the restaurant. It was getting late even for Paris, and the restaurant’s staff was already packing away tables and sending them stern looks. Rafe couldn’t bring himself to look away from Jake, though. As frustrating and unpredictable as Jake was, he’d become Rafe’s light in the darkness, whether sitting at a restaurant in Paris or gazing out at the view on Box Hill.
“Do you want to find a hotel?” he asked, his voice low with suggestion as warmth and need began to seep through him.
Jake grinned, catching his meaning. “Yes,” he said, firm and decisive.
The two of them stood, and without any care for what the people around them might think, they joined hands as they walked down the street to the nearest hotel.
They couldn’t check in fast enough. It was probably the overstimulation of chasing Hélène, not to mention the beer from supper, but Rafe felt restless and eager to have Jake under him again. That one time before his not-really-a-date with Steve was so long ago, and it hadn’t nearly been enough.
Even taking turns in the shower and running through all the prep that was necessary didn’t kill the mood. Rafe cleaned up first, and while Jake took his time in the bathroom, he turned down the bed and even managed to find a radio station through the telly that played smooth jazz.
He was ready and waiting, naked and resting against the pillows with just a sheet covering him from the waist down, when Jake came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. His hair was wet, which turned Rafe on even more for some reason. The second Jake saw Rafe spread out and waiting, he laughed.
“You look like you’re ready to be photographed for some pin-up calendar,” he said, sliding over to the bed and toying with his towel, like he would whip it away at any moment.
“Pin-ups of the art world?” Rafe suggested, grinning back at him.
“Definitely,” Jake answered with a wink.
He pulled his towel away, and for a moment, Rafe held his breath as he drank in the sight of him. Jake was absolutely beautiful enough to be on some tasteless calendar. His arms were muscled from the work he did with glass but not bulky. His torso was defined with just enough hair for him to run his fingers through. His waist was trim and his thighs strong, and he had the most gorgeous cock and balls Rafe had ever seen.
“Get in here,” Rafe growled, throwing the sheet back to reveal his own erection.
“Yes, sir,” Jake said, practically diving into bed with him.
Their bodies met in an eager tangle of arms and legs. Rafe wanted to touch and taste all of Jake at once, but had to settle for sliding his hands over his sides as he rolled Jake to his back and kissed him. Jake grabbed at his hair and pulled him down for an aggressive kiss in return, blasting nearly every other thought out of Rafe’s head.
“Is this okay,” Rafe asked as he stroked one hand over Jake’s body, between fierce kisses. “It’s not exactly grabbing you in a moment of passion, when you least expect it, and throwing you up against a wall to have my way with you.”
Jake laughed loudly, brushing a hand around Rafe’s face to hold his head. “This is wonderful,” he said. “I don’t need porn-levels of spontaneity and breathless excitement every time.”
Rafe pulled back and stared down at him with mock incredulity. “Are you saying ordinary, pre-planned sex with me doesn’t cause you breathless excitement?”
Jake smiled up at him. “I’m not saying that at all.”
He pulled Rafe down for a kiss that ended any conversation they might have been tempted to have. Rafe was fine with that. He didn’t want to talk anymore. He just wanted to touch and feel, to kiss and grope. He wanted to leave his anxiety and his overthinking behind and just be with Jake.
Jake moaned in appreciation as Rafe continued to kiss him while reaching between them to stroke his cock. The heat between them grew exponentially by the moment, and kissing quickly wasn’t enough.
Rafe shifted to slide his lips down Jake’s neck, feeling the beat of his pulse with his tongue, before making his way down to lick and suck each of Jake’s nipples in turn. Jake threaded his fingers in Rafe’s hair and groaned appreciatively, which spurred Rafe to keep going. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to make Jake feel good as thanks for everything he was trying to do for him or if he wanted to take what he wanted to serve himself. Either motivation had the same endgame.
He continued lower, kissing Jake’s tight belly before pushing Jake’s legs farther apart so he could get a good grip on his balls. He worked them until Jake was gasping, then held the base of his cock so he could lick his way from base to tip.
“God, yes!” Jake gasped as Rafe closed his mouth over the flared tip of his cock, sucking and licking until he could feel the restless tension coiling in Jake.
He loved the way Jake went from cool and confident to jumpy and needy as he bobbed on his cock, pulling him deeper and deeper into his mouth. He added a little spice by gripping Jake’s thighs and holding them firmly down so Jake couldn’t thrust into the feelings Rafe was sure were pulsing through him. That made Jake cry out with pleasure.
“I’m close, I’m close!” he panted and growled.
Rafe immediately pulled back and stretched himself over Jake’s body again to kiss him. Jake moaned and wrapped his arms around Rafe, digging his fingertips into Rafe’s back and arse while their tongues tangled. That alone was enough to have Rafe close to tipping over the edge.
He paused long enough to reach for the bottle of lube he’d put out on the bedside table when Jake was in the shower. “You ready?” he asked showing Jake the bottle.
“Oh, yeah!” Jake panted. He drew his legs up and out, holding his hands under his knees to stretch and rock, opening himself. “Give it to me, baby!”
Rafe laughed, nearly losing the mood. “You’re such a whore.”
“Hey, now,” Jake said teasingly as Rafe popped open the bottle and squirted lube on his fingers. “Some people take offense at that word.”
Rafe froze, staring down at him sheepishly. “Sorry,” he said.
Jake’s grin widened even more. “Fortunately, I’m not one of them,” he said, then rocked to show Rafe his arsehole.
Rafe shook his head, then gave Jake what he was asking for by pushing two lubed fingers into his hole. Jake laughed loudly at the intrusion, then started panting and moaning as Rafe worked his fingers in and out, warming him up.
So many things about the gesture were utilitarian, but both of them ate it up. Jake gasped and strained into Rafe’s touch, especially when he added a third finger and searched for Jake’s prostate. He knew when he found it by the change in Jake’s sounds.
He could have watched and listened to Jake in the throes of pleasure all day, but if he didn’t get inside Jake soon, he might go mad. He paused for another squirt of lube, slicked his cock, then leaned over Jake, positioning himself, then pushing in.
They both groaned and panted as their bodies joined. It was something Rafe had done a hundred times before with more men than he wanted to count, but it had never felt as good as it did with Jake. The two of them were partners in every sense of the word. It wasn’t just about the pleasure of skin slapping against skin as he sped up his thrusts. It was the two of them together, the two of them against the world. They might have been against each other now and then, but they were a team before all else.
They were a team in the way they moved together, Jake stroking his cock as Rafe pounded into him. It was hot and raw, and within minutes, Rafe was coming. The release felt incredible, even more so when Jake gasped into his own orgasm and shot his seed over his belly as Rafe watched. The sight was so gorgeous that he thrust a few more times to see if he could keep coming.
“God, that was good,” Jake panted as Rafe pulled out and collapsed to his side. Despite being overheated, the two of them circled their arms and legs around each other and kissed as the afterglow settled over them. “That was so good.”
Rafe could only manage a grunt as sleep pressed down on him. Jake seemed to think that was funny and laughed as he stroked Rafe’s face.
Whatever the next day held, Rafe wasn’t sure he cared. All he cared about was keeping Jake in his arms as long as possible.