Copyright © 2013, Lexi Ander
A Leap of Faith
Chapter
Two
Dawson scowled at the
crinkles at the corner of his blue eyes. Crow's feet. Laugh lines. Whatever
they were called, they made him appear old. He grunted at his reflection,
snatched up a towel, and started drying his dark hair. He could smell the
breakfast Ben made. He didn't know that offering a hand to a stranger not quite
a year ago would gain him a friend and business partner. He thought Ben would
be with him two days—tops—until he could pull himself together. The man had
seemed pretty pitiful when Dawson had first seen Ben in that hot sequined
outfit. With glassy eyes, shaking hands, silent tears tracking black eyeliner
down his face, the man hadn't appeared injured but when Ben had stared at him
with those large hazel-colored eyes, so lost and hurt, Dawson couldn't simply
leave the guy alone.
It was the best thing
he'd ever done. Ben spent a week helping him clear the property the cabin was
on. For the first couple of days they didn't talk much. Dawson watched Ben and
made sure the guy wouldn't accidentally hurt himself with the power tools.
By day three, Dawson
didn't care if he had to talk to himself because the silence was killing him.
So he'd started chattering about his business as a tattoo artist. The
conversation helped to bring Ben out of his funk somewhat.
Ben never discussed what
had happened, but over the next couple of weeks, Dawson had picked up on
certain things. When he spoke to Annie, she told him enough to know Ben was
better off. He suggested Ben stay and they had become roommates. Ben offered
his talents as an artist to Dawson, which led to an apprenticeship. Ben had
been working for Dawson ever since and the arrangement had worked out well for
both of them.
Dawson vigorously dried
off, his body a map of his life. An Aries tribal tattoo spanned his shoulders
on this back, he had a blue water tribal armband, and a full color jaguar that
was wrapped around his left side from the middle of his back to the center of
his chest. His legs were covered with tribal designs, not that anyone had seen
them lately.
A fist banged on the
door. "Come on, primping time is over, breakfast is ready."
Chuckling, Dawson
wrapped a towel around his waist and sauntered out of the bathroom. The smell
of food was stronger out in the hall and his eyes damn near rolled up in the
back of his head. Ben had made cinnamon rolls. The man was a god in the
kitchen. Since Ben cooked most of the meals, Dawson had to put in extra time at
the gym and Ben had taken to joining him.
Hurrying, Dawson tugged
on a pair of jeans and threw on a shirt. He donned four large silver rings, his
two inch wide leather wristbands, and his brown coconut shell necklace with the
blue bone beads before he made a beeline to the kitchen. Ben stood at the stove
with his back to Dawson. He nearly didn't catch the groan that tried to escape.
Ben was shirtless. The tattoo of a rising phoenix rippled over his strong,
muscular back. The last several months, Ben had bulked up and his once slender
frame had become a work of art.
Dawson noticed all of
the changes, not only the physical ones, Ben had made. The vulnerable,
heartbroken man he'd met a year ago had been replaced by a confident, happy
Ben. The combination made for one hell of a package. Not that Dawson hadn't
found Ben attractive before, because Ben had been smoking hot in those ridiculous
shoes and tiny pants. But Ben had needed a friend, so Dawson had shelved his
lust and given a helping hand.
The last couple of
months, Ben had been different and, lately, Dawson imagined licking the hollow
between those shoulder blades. It was too easy to imagine Ben with his hands
tied behind his back, ass rising up to meet the firm swat of Dawson's hand.
Maybe one day Ben would be interested. Discreetly he readjusted himself before
he walked into the kitchen.
"You made cinnamon
rolls." He brushed against Ben as he reached around for a warm roll and
shoved the whole thing in his mouth.
Ben smirked. His gaze
followed the pastry, his hazel eyes expertly outlined with dark eyeliner.
Dawson loved the touch of color because Ben had amazing eyes. When they were
highlighted like that, Dawson wanted to drag the man into his bedroom and find
wonderful ways to convince his friend that his bed was the best place—the only
place Ben wanted to be. Ben's blond hair was cut short on the sides, the top long
enough to brush the man's earlobes. His friend had become very good at
manipulating the layered lengths. This close he could smell Ben's aftershave.
Dawson had pierced both of Ben's ears, four hoops on each side and a bar
through the top of the left ear.
"Today I had
something a little extra to celebrate." Ben poured Dawson a cup of black
coffee after he tore his gaze away from Dawson's mouth.
Dawson chewed slowly,
aware that Ben was staring. He knew what today was and how important it was to
Ben. "The sale goes through today?"
Ben nodded, blinked a
couple of times as Dawson experimented with licking his lips. "Um, yeah."
Ben glanced down and cleared his throat. He seemed a little flustered. "I'll
sign the documents of sale for my share of the firm this afternoon. David said
he'd bring everything by the shop so I wouldn't have to go downtown."
Dawson took a couple of
long swallows from his cup of joe. The bitter mixed with the sweetness in his
mouth and balanced out his taste buds. "Are you sure this is what you want
to do? You could hire someone to see to your interest in the business. You
built that company from the ground up." He grabbed another roll and tried
to swallow it whole. Damn, he loved those things!
Ben shook his head. "I'm
not that guy anymore. He was the guy who went with the flow, played everything
safe. I'm not sure I was happy being him. I can't remember ever being actually
content."
"And you're happy
now?" Dawson asked around the food in his mouth.
Ben's lips quirked up,
his eyes flicked up to Dawson's. "Yeah," he admitted almost shyly. "I
wasn't sure I'd ever feel right again. My parents didn't help. They made me
wonder if I'd been wrong refusing to work things out with Javier."
Dawson vividly
remembered that visit from Ben's father. Two weeks after Ben had come to stay
with him, a limo had stopped in front of the cabin, and an older man in a three
thousand dollar suit stepped out. Ben had cussed softly under his breath before
he went out to meet his parent. Dawson had leaned against the porch railing,
giving the two some privacy, but not leaving Ben alone. In the brief time they
had spent together, Dawson had not only started to like Ben, but had come to
care for him as well. The scowl on Mr Hamilton's face was a warning of things
to come.
"You know your dad's
sorry about what he said when he came by that day." Dawson knew Ben had
shared a good relationship with his father until the fiasco with his fiancé. Mr
Hamilton had been harsh and demanding with Ben, lecturing his son about loyalty
and responsibility.
Ben gave a weak smile. "That's
what I get for avoiding my parents because I didn't want to talk about what
Javier had done. I had to get tested because I was afraid my partner had unsafe
sex with multiple people. That's not something I wanted to discuss with my
family. My parents loved Javier from the moment they met him and they didn't
think to question him when he went to them the day before the wedding. When dad
found out Annie had made the calls to cancel everything—that was a small
fortune down the drain. He had every right to be angry, at least about that."
"You couldn't have
known what would happen. I still think it was better to find out before you were
married." Dawson snagged another cinnamon roll, this time taking a single
bite and chewing carefully. Ben hardly ever talked about what had happened.
Dawson worried Ben would keep it bottled up and turn bitter over the betrayal,
so when Ben felt the urge to talk, he listened. He knew it was the best thing
he could do for his roommate. Although, he did harbor the secret wish to one
day meet up with Javier so he could knock the bastard on his ass.
"I agree." Ben
sighed. "But the cancellations caused talk about our family and my parents
have always been very careful to keep their private and public lives separate.
We made news in some of the smaller publications and the tabloids hounded them
for weeks since I couldn't be found. I hid and left them to deal with the
fallout without explaining why. All they had to go on were Javier's lies."
Ben searched the dregs
of his coffee as if attempting to read something there. Dawson wanted to pull
the man into his arms and make him forget about those first couple of months.
He wanted to wipe Javier from Ben's mind, along with every other man Ben had
known, until all Ben could see was him.
"They understand
why."
Dawson recalled how Mr
Hamilton's bluster had dissipated when Ben, with a shuddering breath and an
embarrassed blush, explained to his father what had transpired the night he'd
disappeared. Dawson's opinion of the older man increased tenfold when he
snatched Ben up in a bear hug. Dawson's old man, fed up with his mother's drug
addiction, had left when Dawson was fourteen. His mother died of an overdose
not long after and Dawson had been placed in foster care when his father hadn't
been found and no other living relatives would take him in. Dawson's opinion of
family was slightly skewed.
"I know, but it
doesn't make me feel any less guilty for my actions." Ben gave a tiny
grin. "Although, you getting all of us rip-roaring drunk that day was
illuminating. I'd never seen my dad sloshed before. Once the alcohol had
loosened him up, it took both of us to hold him down to keep him from leaving
and searching out Javier."
Dawson chuckled into
his coffee cup. "Yeah, your old man swore he'd give the flighty bastard a
good ol' gentleman's one-two for messing with his family. I was stunned at some
of the cussing that came from a man so well dressed."
Ben released a genuine
hoot of laughter. "I'd never heard him cuss before. I thought I was going
to piss my pants I laughed so hard."
"Are you going to
dinner with them tonight? The invitation has been clipped to the refrigerator
for a couple of weeks."
Ben scratched the back
of his head and gave Dawson a sheepish glance. "About that, I wondered if
you would go with me?"
"Sure,"
Dawson readily replied. "I can be your moral support and help you bail
when you've had enough."
He'd seen Ben in a suit
only once and the man had been fucking fine. Dawson had more than one fantasy
about deliberately stripping him out of the expensive garment with nothing but
his teeth.
Ben coughed into his
fist, his face turning pinkish as he tried to smile brightly. Dawson always
thought that Ben sucked at hiding his feelings.
"Yeah—friends—I'd
appreciate the company."
Before he could reply,
Ben had dumped the last of his coffee into the sink and walked through the
garage door. What was that all about?
Dawson washed his hands
in the sink and gulped the last of his coffee. Had Ben asked him on a real
date? His eyes slid closed with the dawning realization. It was possible he had
mucked up his only chance to have the relationship he'd been dreaming about
with Ben.
Dawson braced his hands
on the edge of the sink and hung his head, remembering how Ben's open
expression had slid off his face as he blushed. At the same time his heart
began to race at the knowledge that Ben had been asking for more. No, he wasn't
going to let Ben walk away now. The door had been open and Dawson was
determined to find a way through it.
Following his friend
out to the garage, Dawson watched Ben with a new awareness. He could see now
how Ben watched him out of the corner of his eye. The pulse in the column of
Ben's neck visibly jumped as Dawson drew closer to straddle his hog. He noted
how his friend's breathing sped up just enough that he wasn't quite panting.
But mostly, he noticed the erection straining against the crotch of Ben's jeans
and how the man tried to hide his arousal from Dawson.
Ben straddled his
motorcycle, wearing the leather jacket that Dawson had loaned him the first
time Ben had ridden on his bike. When he'd first loaned the coat to Ben, it had
practically swallowed the man. Not anymore. He liked how Ben filled out the
worn leather as the shoulders pulled tight over the man's new muscular frame.
Dawson felt a little possessive at the sight of Ben wearing his threads. Ben
pulled on his gloves then strapped on his helmet. They both started the bikes,
the loud rumble deafening in the garage.
Dawson followed Ben to
the tattoo shop, contemplating how to get his friend back on the subject of a
date. He'd always kept how he felt under wraps. But if Ben wanted more, then
Dawson would grab on to the sexy man and not let him go.
