When the Dead Speak Bailey Bradford (books on motivation txt) 📖

slid the garlic bread in the oven then went to the refrigerator, his cock swelling as he thought about the way Sev’s body had felt against his, those soft, wide lips moving under his and the sweet taste of the man’s skin. He would never be able to open that damn refrigerator again without popping wood. Laine opened the door and grabbed what he needed then heard the muted shuffle of feet behind him. He turned and found Sev standing in the doorway, sleep rumpled and so sexy it made Laine ache.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Sev yawned and nodded, padding over to the table and pulling out a chair. “Can I do anything to help?”

Laine thought it would be enough for Sev to sit there looking gorgeous, but he set the makings for the salad on the table.

“You think you can take care of this? And—” Laine walked back to the refrigerator and took out a beer. “I reckon you might want this now.”

Sev chuckled. “Yeah, I’m past ready for it. You have something for me to put this in, and maybe you could tell me where a knife is? And a cutting board? Unless you don’t mind your table getting a few nicks in it.”

No wonder Brendon called him a dumbass on a regular basis. Laine opened the beer and passed it to Sev before finding a large bowl, a suitable knife and the cutting board. Placing them on the table, he couldn’t resist leaning down and placing a chaste kiss on Sev’s smiling lips, pulling back before he lost control and ended up spreading Sev out on the table.

“You feel up to explaining what happened earlier now, or do you want to eat first?”

“That depends.” Sev looked up from the tomato he had started to slice. “How long until the food’s ready?”

“All’s that’s left is the pasta and the salad, so maybe fifteen minutes.” Laine turned a knob on the stove to start the water boiling.

“How about after, then? It’s going to take longer than fifteen minutes, and I really want to eat first. It smells good.” Sev winked at Laine’s nod and went back to preparing the salad.

They worked in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. Once Sev had the salad put together, he let his gaze roam over the kitchen. Like every other room he’d seen in Laine’s house, it was undecorated, the white walls bare. The whole place lacked adornment, as though this wasn’t a home, merely somewhere Laine existed in.

“How long have you lived here?”

Laine looked up from stirring the pasta, one eyebrow arched. “About three years now, I guess. Why?”

Sev glanced at the bland room, white everywhere—appliances, the tiled floor, even the countertops were a pale gray, close enough to colourless that they blended in rather than standing out. At least the damn pot on the stove is copper-bottomed!

“It just looks so, I dunno.” He shifted slightly in his chair, trying to decide how to say what he wanted to without being rude. “Bare, maybe? Like there isn’t really anything of yourself here.”

Laine blinked, then looked around the kitchen as though seeing it for the first time. “Well, yeah, I guess there’s really not. I’m not the kind of guy who gives much thought to decorating, but you do have a point. This place has less character than your hotel room.”

Leaning back in his chair, Sev thought about that statement. “Not necessarily. I mean, at least your couch and chair are dark blue… and so are your sheets and blanket—and the curtains. Kind of fond of blue, Laine?”

Laine’s grin was sheepish, his cheeks tinting as he chuckled. “Well, yeah, it was my favorite color.”

“Was? You got a new one?”

The flush on Laine’s cheeks darkened, spread up to his forehead and the tips of his ears, but his gaze held steady with Sev’s. “I’m thinking that I’ve discovered a new color I like even better.” He walked to the table, bending until his nose was almost touching Sev’s. His pupils dilated, the black centers chasing away the silver until only a thin ring of it remained.

“And w-what…” Sev stuttered as he fought his body’s impulse to shiver under the pressing need that coursed through him. “What would that be?”

Laine’s slow smile demolished Sev’s control, his body quaking inside and out. “I’m not sure what it’s called, really, but it’s…fascinating, this pale green.” Laine’s index finger traced the line of Sev’s jaw. “This close, I can see just the slightest streaks of gray in there, too. What color is that, Sev? You tell me, ‘cause I don’t have a word for it.”

Melting, he was melting inside. “My grandmother said it was celadon.” Sev’s breath hitched, his chest squeezing tight. “I always figured that was a big word for ‘dull green’, you know?”

“Sev”—Laine’s warm breath teased Sev’s lips—“there isn’t a dull thing about you.” Before Sev could utter a protest, Laine cupped his jaw and Laine’s lips were covering his, mastering Sev’s mouth with a kiss that threatened to make him come where he sat. The stove timer went off and Laine ended the kiss, saving Sev from losing his dignity along with his load. He was still trying to recover when Laine sat a plate piled high with spaghetti and garlic bread in front of him.

Garlic bread… “You do know that no amount of brushing is going to get rid of the garlic, right?”

Laine nodded, his lips quirking as he picked up his piece of bread. “Yup, so I reckon we better both eat it. Kind of cancel each other out, you know?”

That warmed Sev all over, and he hummed in agreement as he reached for his fork. Neither felt the need to speak as they ate quickly, casting occasional heated glances across the table. The food was good—well, Sev thought it was probably good. He was too distracted by Laine to really pay much attention to anything else. And he was nervous, having to constantly stop himself from reaching up to finger