Patchouli For Christmas (4 page)

He glared at Michael. “We’re in the middle of yoga class.”

Of course you are
. “Your grandmother asked me to come by and help you arrange for the paintings to be moved.”

Jude stared at him in apparent amazement. “Are you serious? She doesn’t think I know how to call a damn moving van?”

“It’s been four days since we picked them out, and they’re still here,” Michael pointed out with what he thought was unassailable logic.

“I’ve had other things to do. There’s still plenty of time.”

Michael made no move to leave. He simply stood in the doorway.

Jude gave a long-suffering sigh. “Okay, you can come in. But you’ll have to wait until we’re done.” He turned to rejoin the others, mumbling something about needing to center all over again. Then he stopped and glanced back with a sudden smile. “You can watch if you want.”

It seemed an odd comment. Michael puzzled over why that invitation to observe the class would strike Jude as amusing. He closed the door and nodded to Betsy and Ron from downstairs. A tall, thin man seemed to be the teacher, and there were two young women who appeared to be made of rubber.

Trying to find a place to get out of the way, Michael wandered to one of the rooms curtained off by long strings of beads. This one had the curtain half-open. He peeked inside. A few unfinished paintings and some shelves filled with supplies. A storage room? That seemed innocuous enough. He could pretend to look through the paintings while he waited.

He glanced back at Jude to see if the man would object, but Jude’s back was to him and his attention seemed to be focused on trying to bend himself in half as he touched the floor with his palms and his forehead to his knees. Michael froze, half-hidden behind the beaded curtain.

Christ, it was bad enough seeing that tight ass in the air like that, but then Jude had to stand and reach his arms way over his head so the little T-shirt rode up to reveal the lean, defined muscles of his back leading down to the curve right above the low-slung pants. Michael caught a glimpse of the enticing dimple where the man’s crease started.

Heat built in his crotch as his pants became uncomfortably tight. Michael twisted the beads of the curtain in his fingers as he stared.

Next came a push-up that simply stopped. Jude hovered an inch off the mat, his arm muscles straining to hold him up. But the last straw was when he moved into some kind of pose that pushed his butt straight up into the air. Jude looked like an upside down V, and that ass seemed as inviting as anything Michael had ever seen. He had to fight the urge to steal up behind Jude, grab those sweet hips, and… He shook his head. He was going to come in his pants if he let his imagination run away like this.

Then Jude stood again. With his hands together in front of his chest, he paused and then glanced back over his shoulder at Michael. To see if he had taken him up on the invitation to watch? Did that mean he
wanted
Michael to watch?

Michael felt warmth rise in his face and knew that flush showed under his fair skin. Jude gave him the exact cock-teasing triumphant grin Michael might have expected. But then their eyes met and heat flashed through Michael’s belly. Jude’s grin faded. Had he felt it too? The artist turned red and seemed just as flustered as Michael felt.
Ha. Weren’t expecting that, were you? Well, neither was I.

Jude turned back to his class, and Michael forced himself away from the doorway. He turned to examine the half-finished paintings and even scrutinized the supplies in search of distraction. Really, how many shades of yellow could one person possibly need?

But hard as he tried, he couldn’t keep his gaze from returning to Jude’s movements. He peered through the beaded curtain again, trying to be as discreet as possible. Finally the class ended up on the floor, stretched out on their mats for what seemed an eternity to Michael, but was probably only a few minutes.

At last they stirred, packed up their gear, and left. Betsy and Ron gave him curious glances as they waved good-bye. They probably wondered why he hadn’t come out to speak to them. No doubt his bad manners only added to their already low opinion of him.

Well, he couldn’t, and he didn’t care to explain why. Even though he had pulled the jacket closed, it didn’t do much to hide the evidence of Jude’s effect on him. He smiled politely and waved back, unwilling to desert the safety of his little storage room.

When everyone had gone, Jude pulled the curtain aside. “Are you ever coming out?”

By then, Michael had calmed down enough to answer with some dignity. “Of course. I simply find all the different colors you’ve got stored in here fascinating. Who knew there were so many shades available?”

“Uh-huh.” Jude turned and went back into the living room. He bent over with his back to Michael and rolled up his mat. He took his time doing it.

Michael couldn’t stand it anymore. “You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?”

“What if I am?” He straightened and went to place his mat against the wall with a small pile of other exercise gear.

Michael paused, astonished. He hadn’t expected Jude to admit it so easily. “Well, just…just…” he stammered.

Jude leaned against the wall and looked at him with his arms crossed and a mocking little smile on his face. But the shyness in his eyes belied the outward confidence and gave Michael a weird, warm feeling deep inside.

Despite a growing suspicion that the battle was already lost, Michael closed the gap between them and tried to stare him down. “Just stop it.”

Standing so close had been a mistake. Heat radiated from Jude’s body, and Michael had to fight the urge to bury his face against Jude’s warm neck.

Jude tilted his head back a little to return the stare. “Are you sure you want me to stop?”

“I…well… I mean, yes! Of course I’m sure.”

“Then why do you have your hands on my ass?”

“I don’t…oh… I do. Um, it’s a very nice ass.” And it was nice. Even though Michael didn’t know exactly when he’d grabbed it, the fact that Jude seemed to have no serious objection was quite encouraging. So he gripped a little more tightly, cupping and rubbing. Firm. Round. Smooth. Damn. It felt even better than it looked.

“Thank you,” Jude said. “It’s the yoga.”

“I now love yoga,” Michael declared.

“Glad to hear it.” Another smile curved lips that parted in invitation a moment later.

Michael figured it would take a stronger man than him—or maybe just a straight guy—to refuse that invitation. His heart hammered loud enough to drown out the little voice objecting from the back of his short-circuited brain.

He brushed his mouth against Jude’s, but just as he started to deepen the kiss, the man flattened his hands against Michael’s chest and gave a little push. Michael stopped, confused. Had he read all the signals wrong?

“Get that smelly dead animal skin away from me.”

Ah. The jacket. “It smells a hell of a lot better than that hippie patchouli crap you douse yourself with.” But Michael had already torn off his jacket and kicked the expensive leather across the floor. Funny how unimportant some things became when a guy was about to get some.

He was back and nuzzling Jude’s neck in less than a second.

Jude tilted his head to expose more of his skin to Michael’s tongue. “If you hate my smell so much, why are you in my face?”

“I like
your
smell—what I can tell of it anyway.”

“Don’t dis the patchouli, buddy. It’s an aphrodisiac.”

“Obviously working,” Michael mumbled into his neck.

“Wait.” Jude sounded dismayed. “I’m all sweaty.” He put his hands back on Michael’s chest and gave another little shove. Not a very hard one. “I should take a shower.”

This time, Michael ignored the hands pressing against his chest and licked a tiny trickle of sweat off Jude’s neck. He felt a shudder run through Jude’s body. Jude’s back arched as he twisted his fists into Michael’s shirt.

Jude’s mouth sought his, and Michael opened to him. He slid his tongue along Jude’s, taking his time in a long, deep exploration of the other man’s mouth. Was this what Doug had meant, Michael wondered vaguely through the fog in his brain, when he’d said that other woman hadn’t “tasted” right? Jude did taste right. At least, he tasted wonderful.

When they finally broke for air, he stroked Jude’s cheekbone gently. The man stared back at him with eyes gone very dark and unfocused. He seemed dazed.

Michael leaned his cheek against the soft red-brown hair. “Damn,” he whispered. “This is just…well, damn.” He closed his eyes and held Jude tightly.

“Michael? What’s wrong? ” Jude squirmed a little, trying to pull back enough to peer up into Michael’s face. Michael loved the feeling of that firm body wriggling against his, but he reluctantly let go.

Jude seemed uncertain at Michael’s sudden hesitation. “Is it too fast? I moved too fast, didn’t I?” He looked down at the floor, a faint blush creeping over his cheeks.

That embarrassed, vulnerable expression made Michael’s chest hurt. What was he supposed to say? Did he want to admit that they couldn’t have sex because Jude’s grandmother scared the crap out of Michael? He most definitely did not. Could he possibly be a bigger wuss?

Still Michael hesitated, torn between what he wanted to do and what he ought to do.

Jude talked to the floor. “I just thought, with the way you’ve been looking at me… I’m sorry.” He started to move away.

“Ah, fuck it,” Michael muttered. He grabbed Jude’s arm and pushed him back against the wall.

Jude stiffened in surprise, but when Michael crushed their lips together and started devouring his mouth, the artist melted against him. The soft yielding of that hard body against his drove Michael wild. He ground their hard-ons together until Jude made little whimpering noises and pushed into him. Jude wrapped Michael in a tight hug. The guy might be shorter, but damn, he was strong. Michael had a hard time catching his breath.

He’d find a way to deal with Mrs. Kendrick. Or he wouldn’t. The business would survive one way or another. Possibly not grow as quickly as it might have with the help of her referrals, but it would be all right. He only knew he couldn’t stand to see that desolate look on Jude’s face.

Michael wanted no doubt in Jude’s mind that he wanted this as much as Jude did. Had he succeeded in replacing that forlorn expression with something else? He managed to pull away just enough to peer down into Jude’s face. Yes, indeed. The dazed expression had returned—the eyes unfocused and the breath coming in little pants.

Rather pleased with himself, Michael grunted, “Bed.”

Jude relaxed his embrace, and Michael gripped the other man’s hand. He turned and started to tug him toward the bedroom, then stopped. Confronted by several rooms curtained off by beads, he glared around in frustration. He knew the supply room, but that left—he counted—three rooms to choose from. He glanced back at Jude. “Damn it. Is the prize behind door number two or what?”

Jude grinned. “Good guess. You hit the jackpot.” He twisted his fingers through Michael’s and pulled him toward the middle of the three remaining doorways.

“You’re right about that.”

Jude tossed him a pleased smile over his shoulder. He pushed through the beads, drawing Michael behind him. Then he dropped Michael’s hand. “Oh. I forgot. I wasn’t expecting company.”

Afternoon light streaming through a small double-paned window revealed an unmade bed and a heap of clothes along the wall. A pile of books and knickknacks covered a small desk next to a door leading to a bathroom.

“Give me a second to fix this.” Jude bent over the bed to straighten it.

Michael grinned. Jude had to know that was a mistake if he really expected Michael to wait. His fantasy during yoga class came back to him, and he moved behind Jude. He rested one hand in the middle of Jude’s back to let him know he stood there. Jude froze.

Michael leaned forward to whisper into his ear. “Stay just like that.”

The only response was a sharply indrawn breath. Jude didn’t move. Michael gripped his slim hips and pushed his bulge against the tightly muscled ass. He tugged Jude back against him, nestling right in between Jude’s cheeks. Then he ran his hands down Jude’s back, feeling the delineation of long, smooth muscles under the tight T-shirt.

Jude propped himself on the bed with his arms straight and pushed back. He squirmed a little, creating friction.

“You are so fucking hot,” Michael gasped. “Stop that, or I’m never going to make it inside you.”

He backed off and pulled Jude up and into his arms, then stopped in dismay. “I didn’t expect this to happen. I don’t have anything. Do you?”

If he didn’t, then there were other things they could do, and those would be good too. But damn, he wanted a piece of that ass.

“I didn’t expect it either. But I do have some stuff, if it’s not too old.”

Jude opened the bedside table and rummaged through it. He pulled out a bottle of lube and a box of condoms, then held the box up so he could read the date in the light from the window. “We’re still good.”

“Thank God.” Michael took the supplies and put them on the table, then pulled Jude into his arms again for another long kiss. Had he ever enjoyed kissing anyone as much? He didn’t think so.

He slipped his hands under Jude’s shirt and rubbed his nipples to see if he’d like it. He did, judging by the moan and the little thrust of his hips. Michael pulled off Jude’s shirt and gave each nipple a quick lick, tasting a sweet saltiness that made him want to linger. But he had to yield as Jude’s insistent fingers fumbled with the buttons of Michael’s shirt. Jude seemed to be shaking a little. With passion? Or something else? Suddenly, Michael remembered what Jude’s grandmother had said about Jude being not quite as “worldly.” Did that mean he was a virgin? Surely not. The lube was unopened, but the condoms were half gone.

He pulled back and took those trembling fingers in his own. “Are you okay? You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine. A little excited.” He brushed his lips against Michael’s. “It’s been a while.”

“But you have been with someone before, right?”

“Yes, Michael. I’ve had a couple of boyfriends. I’m not all that much younger than you.” Michael felt relieved that he sounded amused rather than offended.