Chapter Six
Nolan scrubbed the surfaces in the house until his hands were raw.
James returned to Sacramento yesterday to empty his storage unit. He and the movers would arrive bright and early. Which meant in T-minus fifteen minutes, he’d have a roommate.
Not just any roommate. The hottest man he’d ever met.
This had bad news stamped all over it. His countertops positively sparkled. The coffee pot gurgled, spitting dark liquid into the glass carafe. Nolan buzzed. When he’d told Meg the news a few days ago, she’d given him a smug smirk, the bitch, because she’d set him up on purpose.
The doorbell rang, and Nolan strode to his front door. He paused at the latch, flipped it one, two, three times, then opened the door.
James stood in the entryway, his broad shoulders filling the space. He had eyes that glittered with intrigue all hours of the day, and his full lips were pursed. When he caught sight of Nolan, they tilted into a slow smile, which dripped through him like warm honey.
“I’m here apparently earlier than the movers,” James said. “They got held up in traffic and won’t arrive for another hour or so. But I figured I’d at least start moving the things I had in the short-term rental I stayed in.”
“Want help?” Nolan asked. He’d planned to offer, despite James seeming like the self-reliant type.
James quirked his lips. “I’m going to do a few quick runs, but if that’s coffee I smell…”
“I’ll go pour you a cup,” Nolan said. If he swung his hips a little more with his retreat, then that was his business.
He felt James’s stare on him, intense in a way that made him shiver.
Even though his flirtations wouldn’t lead anywhere, he couldn’t help himself.
Living with James would be like edging himself for eternity.
A creak sounded, then the distant thump, thump, thump of footsteps as James launched straight into the move.
Him doing what he wanted with the guest bedroom thankfully didn’t trigger any of Nolan’s issues, since the room was a void spot to him anyway.
It used to be his parents’ bedroom, then a guest bedroom in a house where he rarely entertained.
Having people over created a stress that was not worth navigating most of the time.
He poured a cup of freshly brewed coffee, the smell wrapping around him, the steam curling over the surface of the mug.
Then Nolan took his time and poured another.
Unsure how James took his coffee, he kept it black and carried both mugs by the handles into the living room.
A few grunts and heavy breathing came from the door.
Nolan set the coffee down and wandered over to the noise.
James had shown up in a gray pullover but had tugged it off.
He approached the front door in jeans and a threadbare tank top that glued to his chest, carrying a stack of boxes.
His thick arm muscles bulged from the weight as he navigated through the door, and when he bypassed him to head up the stairs, Nolan couldn’t help but watch.
The flex of his ass in those butter-soft jeans was delicious. Nolan’s mouth watered.
“Sure you don’t want help?” Nolan called up the steps.
James jogged back to the top, then started his descent. “Nah,” he said, wiping his forehead. “That was my third round, and it was most of the major shit for the bedroom. The positive about moving into a furnished place means I don’t need to haul a lot of extra stuff from the storage unit too.”
“Well, then your reward for moving so fast is coffee,” Nolan said. “I put the mugs down in the other room.”
“Thank fuck,” James said, reaching the bottom of the steps.
He emanated heat, droplets of sweat beading on his skin, and the rich, musky scent of him punched Nolan right in the libido.
Fuck. This man would be staying in his house for the foreseeable future.
Probably working out like this. If he went shirtless during his workouts, Nolan didn’t know if he’d survive.
He led the way to the living room, simply to stop gawking at James, then plunked onto the couch.
James sat beside him and grabbed the mug of coffee. He sipped and let out a sinful groan that echoed through the room. Damn, everything this man did seemed to turn him on.
“I should be chugging water right now, but I haven’t had a drop of caffeine yet,” James commented as he leaned back with his mug in hand.
“Criminal offense,” Nolan teased. “Good thing I keep plenty of coffee on hand.”
“I’m used to brewing coffee for two every morning, so let me at it,” James said, chewing his lower lip.
“Funny how the little things are the adjustment.” He trailed off, as if he hadn’t meant to let that slip, and the impact socked Nolan in the gut.
James hadn’t gone into his past, but being a widower filled in the blanks.
Nolan wasn’t sure if his interest toward James was one-sided, but the clarification of where James was had settled some of the conflict in his mind.
“Mm, coffee might be one of those things I’m particular on,” Nolan said. Even as he stated the word particular, it sent a little needle shard through him. He’d gotten it used on him and used it on himself so often that it started to sting.
James sipped again and hummed. “Well, you make a damn good cup, so if you want to take the reins, I won’t complain.”
Nolan’s chest squeezed tight. Was this guy for real?
Past boyfriends and girlfriends hadn’t even been this comfortable with him addressing his needs.
They’d insisted on doing things their way or took offense and got pissed at him.
Trevor had broken up with him over loading the dishwasher, and they hadn’t even lived together.
Jessica called it quits over his “quirks,” which was her way of saying his tics.
Though he should have been happy that the trash took itself out, he couldn’t ignore the lingering truth that remained too.
If he weren’t so difficult, maybe they would’ve stayed.
“It’ll be nice making coffee for more than just myself,” he said, tugging his bun as heat flushed his cheeks. This crush was ultimately pointless, as James had shot him down, but damn, the guy made it so easy.
“What do you do when you’re not at Whipped?
” James asked, spreading his arm out on the back of the couch.
His thick thighs were sprawled out too, in a naturally dominant gesture that made Nolan want to crawl right onto his lap.
He rarely met someone who flipped the submissive switch in him like this, but James’s energy called to the opposite in him.
“Psh, being a workaholic isn’t enough?” Nolan joked, even though it rang a little hollow.
The past few years, he’d been spending more time at work after hours just to avoid going home and being by his lonesome.
James fixed him with a look, one he recognized as similar to Meg’s patented Dom look.
He wasn’t immune. Nolan shifted in his seat.
“I like to learn different instruments. I’m working on the hurdy gurdy right now. ”
James’s eyes widened. “Damn, I thought you were going to admit to a garden variety tabletop gaming addiction like the rest of us.”
“I’ve played a few campaigns of D&D,” Nolan said, “but never anything steady. You?”
“Used to,” James said, his gaze darkening. “I was the forever DM of our group, and I ran a few different systems.”
“Do you miss it?” Nolan asked. He winced as the words left his lips. The past was likely full of landmines.
James nodded and sipped from his mug. “Yeah, I do. Maybe it’s time to start a new campaign.”
“If that’s your half-hearted way of asking me to play D&D with you, then fine, I’ll join,” Nolan teased, trying to lighten the mood.
James’s genuine smile was the reward—the way his dark eyes crinkled, how those smooth, lush lips curled—damn. “Don’t get me started. The place will have a crew over here weekly for a campaign.”
Nolan’s heart thumped hard. Fuck, could he do that? If it were the crew from Whipped, then yeah, he could. They wouldn’t look twice at his tics and listened when he expressed boundaries or needs. “You know if you mention it to Meg, she’ll rope the whole lot at Whipped in.”
James shook his head, the smile still in his eyes. “Somehow, I knew I’d end up back in her sphere.”
“How long did you guys date?” Nolan asked, curiosity overtaking him.
“A year,” James said. “At the time, she thought she was submissive, and we spent a year learning a lot about each other—along with how we made much better friends than lovers.”
Damn. A slight pang of jealousy flickered through him that Meg had gotten to be so close. He hadn’t felt this electricity crackle with anyone in a long, long time. And of course it was for a guy who was unavailable.
“When the movers get here, do you want to help me figure out where the stuff outside my room should go?” James asked, the question coming off as light and innocuous, even though Nolan knew what he was doing. Gratitude flushed through him.
“I’d love that.” James’s easy consideration gave him such exquisite hope that he might be able to pull off having a roommate.
That he didn’t need to be isolated in this home any longer.
He yanked his bun a little harder, sending a light frisson of pain through him. He had to tug himself back to reality.
Nolan sipped his coffee, enough that he spluttered.
James’s gaze burned into him, the intensity melting him on the couch.
Dating prospects or more than a casual play partner might help, but he didn’t have either.
The folks he tended to play with at events were more of the friend variety, and while scenes were fun, they didn’t reach the same levels as those he had with more serious partners.
“So, are you going to be joining the local scene?” Nolan asked. “Hitting up the munch?”
James licked his lower lip, slow enough that it set Nolan’s veins on fire. “While I’m not looking for a relationship, I could use the outlets kink provides. In case you weren’t aware, I’m a fan of impact play.”
“Oh, I’m very aware,” Nolan said. He chewed on his lip, unsure if he wanted to say the words resting on his tongue. But when he looked at James, the man stared at him with enough heat to make him shiver. “I’d offer, but I don’t know if that’s crossing roommate lines.”
“We’re both adults,” James said. “I’m sure we could come to some agreement.”
Ngh. If he had James flogging him on top of living with him, he’d be jerking off to the point he was releasing dust. Either he’d need to find a hookup or his right hand would get the workout of a century.
“So, I’ll get to see your whole collection?” Nolan couldn’t help the flirt in his tone, and James quirked his lips in a wry smile.
“Curious?”
“God, yes,” Nolan said, running his fingertip along the rim of his mug.
He circled it a few more times before taking another sip from the coffee.
The comfort he felt with James…it was something he’d been searching far too long for.
Having someone in his house where he didn’t feel judged or crawling out of his skin or needing to get up and fix things because they were rearranging them.
A knock sounded at the door, and James set his coffee cup on a coaster.
“That must be the movers,” he said, pushing up from the seat.
He towered over Nolan like this, all thick thighs, thick arms, and lickable rich, golden-brown skin.
His tank top plastered to his chest, highlighting the dips and valleys of his pecs, his abs, his back muscles.
James flashed Nolan a grin and headed for the door.
A heady rush swept through him like a fever. He needed a preservation raft to grab onto right now or he wouldn’t survive. He’d gotten the hint that James wasn’t looking for a hookup or relationship and would respect his limits.
But he wouldn’t survive without a distraction.
Nolan pulled out his phone and opened Franco’s text from a few days ago. He’d waited on responding, unsure if he wanted to revisit the past, but this might be the diversion he needed.
Hey, how’s it going? I’m happy to catch up if you like.
He shot off the text, though his gaze lingered on the path a certain tall Dom had tread on his way out.
God, he was so fucked.