7. Perry

After taking Roman to the Mitsubishi dealer and finding a much better salesperson, he decides on the loaded Outlander.

It's far more bells and whistles than he'll ever need, but from what I've observed so far with Roman, is that he likes to look good. And when he looks good, he's confident. I'm no expert on human behaviour, but I think his clothing choices and prickly demeanour are a mask. For what, I don't know and I doubt I'll find out.

When I picked him up today, I expected a casual dress like me. Maybe jeans and a dress shirt, but I was wrong. Roman dressed to kill a business deal. At first, I thought he was foolish and shallow for wearing yet another heart-stopping corset and dress pants.

But when he approached the salesperson with his questions on warranties and four-by-four performance, I noticed the transformation. His confidence, beautiful features and hot-as-fuck attire—seriously, when did I become obsessed with corsets and tight pants?—made him a proverbial force and I was in awe watching him come to life with the information I fed him.

He excused himself from the salesperson and walked over to me. A ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Okay, it's not the first time I've purchased a car, but I usually just buy them for leather seats and how I look in them." I raised an eyebrow as if to say I'm not shocked and he surprises me with a laugh. "Yeah, yeah I know. Bug me later. But you're sure this car will be adequate where we live?"

"It's very adequate for where we live, yes. It's a smart purchase."

"Okay. I guess I'll go sign the papers then."

"What did you negotiate?"

His smile disappears as he focuses those ice blues on me.

"What do you mean?"

"Any extras? Free tires or oil changes?"

"I just agreed to the sticker price. You can ask for more?"

He can't be serious.

"How are you a businessman to even ask that? Do you just pay full price when you order fabric?"

"Yes?"

I stare at this man who could literally use his face to save thousands off of a purchase price and I wonder why he never has.

"Do you trust me to talk for you?"

He bristles and pulls his shoulders back. I see I've found another sore spot. "I can do it myself," he snaps. The lightness from a moment ago dissolved and the arrogance back.

I raise my hands in surrender and he returns to the salesperson inside. My stomach growls and I'm surprised to see it's almost 3 P.M. He won't be able to drive this car home today, but hopefully the delivery is reasonably fast. I hope he at least negotiates that.

While I wait outside in the lot, my phone chimes with a message from Leaf.

Leaf:You two still alive and not ripping each other's head off?

Perry:We had a rough start but surprisingly it's going okay.

Leaf:Did you check out the smell in the bathroom? Sasha said you showed up but didn't have tools. You want me to go have a look?

Of course, Leaf's mention of the bathroom only conjures the image of Roman wearing nothing but a scrap of lace, and I don't want my brother in there. It's stupid. He owns the place, but I'm irrationally protective of the room and the job.

Perry:No, I'm going to check it out tonight when I drop him off. I think it's just leftover from our first leak, but I need to send the camera down the wall to check.

Leaf:Okay. Let me know what you find. We might not be home when you get back, but I'll see you at check-in Thursday afternoon for sure.

My finger hovers over the button to call Sasha, but I decide against it. I know he loves Roman dearly and they have a friendship different from the one I have with Sasha, but part of me wants to know what I've done for Roman to be so pissy with me. I know I don't always make the best first impressions, but I've tried to smooth things over and Roman just keeps being, well, an asshole. Although we seem to be getting along fine right now.

But I know that will change soon as we head home. On cue, the doors open and out walks Roman with the most blinding smile in place, and I wish I wasn't as drawn to him as I am.

"I just bought a car!" He points to the black one he was looking at earlier. "That one, actually."

"Congratulations! Did you negotiate for any extras?"

"A half-price winter tire package and delivery to Maple on Monday."

He puffs out his chest, swagger kicked up, and it's actually kind of cute. Pride blooms in my chest for my part in this.

"Good for you! Are you hungry? I need to eat and then get back home so I can check you out in the bathroom."

Roman smirks and heads to the passenger side of my truck while I desperately wish for a sinkhole to swallow me whole. This time I know damn well what I said. There's nowhere to hide, either.

"Pick your favourite place and it's my treat for your help today."

I think he's going to let that little verbal slip slide, but nope. After I buckle in behind the wheel, he turns to me. "You don't need to check me out in the bathroom, Perry. Right now is fine."

My cheeks burn. He's a bold motherfucker.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter as I pull us out of the lot. "Could your ego get any bigger?"

"Only time will tell."

He laughs, but at least he's smiling and not griping at me for something.

"Are you almost done? I'd really like a shower and to get to bed."

The whine in Roman's voice grates like nails on a chalkboard, and I back out from under the bathroom sink.

"I'm trying to be thorough, so I don't have to keep coming back here. And stop hovering."

This time when I turn to go back to the panel that opens to the hot water tank, Roman stands there in the same blue robe he wore yesterday with his scrap of lace for panties. It cuts off mid-thigh and if he steps just right —

"Seriously Perry?"

"What?"

"Just hurry up. I'm tired and bitchy."

"And that's different from other days how?"

"Oh, fuck off. You've known me for two days."

"I could say the same for you, yet you never stop with your insults. Now let me do my job."

He raises his hands and lets them flop back to his sides with a huff. His robe slides up and I look away. Christ. I think I saw dick.

I definitely did.

"You know what? On second thought, I think we've had enough of each other today. I'll come back tomorrow to finish. Do you mind if I leave my tools here?"

"Fine. It's not like I'm going to touch them. I just want to shower."

I brush past him towards the door and even after all day driving and at dealerships, he still smells like fresh vanilla.

"Have at it then. I'll come back tomorrow."

He's about to close the bathroom door, but I bark at him.

"Roman! Come turn the deadbolt first. Just because nobody is in the lodge doesn't mean you should be lax with your safety."

He stares at me with a blank look before moving toward the door. I let it close behind me and wait until the deadbolt turns before leaving.

Then I linger a beat longer.

"Don't let go!"

My throat is raw from the scream as I bolt upright from a dead sleep. Sweat sticks to my brow and with a shaky sigh, I fumble for my phone to check the time.

It's barely 3 A.M. and I've been asleep for roughly seventy-six minutes.

Of course, the nightmares had to ramp up right before the Maple Festival, when I need to work my ass off.

Flinging the covers back, I walk naked to the living room and stare into the dark black of my backyard. Like my brain, it offers no explanation for why I keep reliving this single memory.

When the nightmares come back, there's no sense trying to fall asleep right away. The surge of adrenaline is too great and I need to work it off. It's why my basement is littered with gym equipment and I'm as fit as I am. Manic-like workouts, while not a fitness regime I'd recommend, usually do the job of taking the edge off.

Filling a water bottle from the kitchen, I trot down the stairs to my workout area and snag a pair of running shorts off the treadmill. They smell a bit, and I glance over at my laundry area. It's overflowing, reminding me again that I've not done any laundry in recent memory.

Sorting through the pile, I quickly throw a load into the washer before returning to my treadmill. Sliding my shoes on, I step up and hit my saved programs on the treadmill. Then I run.

Away from my nightmares, my anxiety, and sleep. My failures. I run until my legs shake to keep me upright and the lactic acid builds until I can barely walk. And it's only then I stop the treadmill and collapse on the chair in the corner.

The washing machine cycle ends, and I throw the items into the dryer. One bonus of being down here is attacking the laundry pile, at least. Chugging my water, I start another load and strip out of my shorts, leaving them in the pile. Sweat sheens on my body and after a quick shower, I settle on the couch to watch some mind-numbing show until it's time to work.

The Android box I bought usually has cool shows. I'm always finding National Geographic or nature shows to binge. The channel selection is almost too much, but my thumb stops on the remote when the adult channels appear. Porn. I remember telling Ted about jerking off to get back to sleep.

It's already past 5 A.M. and I'll need to be at work soon but… my dick plumps with the idea now that I've entertained it. Since my first stop this morning is back to Roman's with my wall camera, I can't show up with my dick half-hard. He'd notice right away and I'll probably say something stupid. He'd laugh, and I'd feel like a giant loser. It's honestly not how I want to start the day.

So… rubbing one out wins.

And there's like six hundred channels of porn on this thing. Who needs that kind of variety? There's only so many ways to fuck, no matter what your kink or preference. Okay, maybe you get more creative with multiple partners, but that's still a lot of options.

Scrolling along the thumbnails with movie titles and their cover shots, one immediately catches my eye. A younger man wearing lace and garters. Clicking on it, I'm immediately thrown into the movie with a couple arguing. Over what to eat and, ironically, it makes me laugh and think of Roman.

But I'm not here for the setup. Nobody watches this stuff for the cinematic performances. I fast forward and piece the "plot" together until they're in the bedroom and the young man appears in his lingerie as an apology. And you know, I'm a fan of lace-clad apologies when they drop to their knees for you like this guy.

Real big fan.

My hand works my dick in long pulls and it leaks so much I don't even need to search for lube. Not that I'd need to go far. There's usually a bottle in the drawer under my coffee table. The advantages of living alone, I guess. Or disadvantages since I'm naked on my couch with my dick in my hand fantasizing about a certain lacy model.

And that's the lucky spark.

The scene playing out on the TV isn't nameless people anymore. It's Roman with my cock shoved down his throat and my balls draw up before I can even process I'm about to blow. My toes curl into the floor and I fucking explode across my belly and chest, the biggest cum dump of my life.

"Jesus Christ." Panting, I reach for the tissues nearby and mop most of myself off. "This is not good."

Even though it is because my eyelids are already drooping and I feel like I could sleep for a week.

But I just jerked off to the mouthy model who so far only tolerates me at the best of times.

To Sasha's other best friend, Roman.

Fuck.

I'll deal with this small bit of self-discovery and unpack what it all means later. Right now, the exhaustion sits like lead on my eyelids and I can't fight it.

I lean my head back and close my eyes.

And get the best sleep I've had in weeks.