Snow Storm

Chapter 9

Claude

“What am I doing? Oh, putain. Merde .” Claude stared at his reflection. “Quelle quiche .” Of course, insulting himself wasn’t going to change anything. He’d invited Harley to his home. To eat his food.

To…be seduced ?

The logical part of his brain said no. The desperate, horny part of his brain said that he still had a prescription of Viagra that wasn’t out of date yet, a bottle of lube that was unopened, and a promise of no strings because just after the holidays, Harley would be out of Claude’s life and back to his own.

Claude had been waiting a long, long time to be able to reclaim that part of him with someone he trusted, and for as much as he didn’t know Harley, the man made him feel safe. He felt like he could give in and let go and allow himself to be both sexual and vulnerable for the first time since his ex.

So why did knowing Harley wasn’t going to be around long make him feel worse?

He didn’t think he was reading any of the signs wrong. Harley wanted him. He’d blushed and seemed flustered that Claude was inviting him over. He seemed to understand that there was some innuendo with the offer of dinner—not that Claude was skimping on the wining and dining part of the evening.

The cassoulet was already in the last stages of the simmer, and by the time he got to Harley’s room and back, it would be ready to serve. He had a crusty baguette he’d swiped from the kitchens, a bottle of wine that he wasn’t sure he should open, and hope sitting in his chest heavier than any weight he’d ever carried.

Claude had never done this. Not once. He’d never even looked twice at a guest unless the person was yelling at him and threatening to sue—which had only happened a handful of times since he took over Wrought Iron. So why now?

Why this man?

What was so special about him?

The eyes , Claude’s traitorous brain supplied. His eyes were so beautiful—dark and kind of endless pools of earth-brown. They were always watching, his face curious, like he was taking everything in and hoarding it like a dragon.

And his smile. It was small and a little shy, like he was unused to wearing one.

He kept his cards close to his chest much like Claude did—and he knew what kind of trauma created that defense. He felt an uncontrollable urge to pull Harley close, wrap his arms around him, and never let the sharp edges of the world touch him again.

There was also something lurking beneath the surface that Claude knew he could draw out. That he could play with—have fun with. It would be hot and powerful, and he could almost picture Harley writhing beneath his hands, whimpering.

Begging .

Fuck.

He wasn’t hard—he rarely got hard on his own these days, but he was definitely hot and bothered. He swiped his hand across his brow, then turned and walked to the living room. His orthotics felt a little too tight, pinching at his skin, but after his fall that afternoon, he needed them.

It was a reminder he was probably going to need to go in for another exam.

Another surgery, maybe, or just his borrowed time walking had finally run out. He didn’t much care apart from the pain in the ass it was to deal with. He flexed his toes in his socks before reaching for his boots, and he slid them on over the molded plastic.

He pulled his chair close next. He’d walk around his house when Harley got there, but he wasn’t going to spend all of his energy at the hotel. And now that Harley knew everything, there was no point in trying to hide who he was.

The guilt was still eating at him for that one. Harley had looked so betrayed. And, before he heard the whole story, he’d seemed frightened. Claude had never wanted to put that look on someone’s face. Ever. And it killed him that Harley was the first person to be truly scared of him, even if it was just for a moment.

He wondered if that was part of his past too. He knew about the public incident, but he had a feeling Harley was dealing with a lot more than that. He wanted to lay him out and gently peel back all of his layers, kissing his tender scars until he forgot the names of the people who hurt him.

But he didn’t have that kind of time. If tonight went well, he might have two weeks. Maybe a little longer if the storm was unkind and the universe favored him a little.

But nothing more. That was it.

He let out a ragged sigh, then grabbed his coat before pushing himself out the door and doing his best not to get high centered on the fluffy banks of snow that lined the walkway. He made it to the connecting tunnels in a few pushes, and he shook his arms out, trying to release the chill from his bones as he made his way up the ramp and into the lobby.

It was empty, holiday music playing on low, and over that, he could just make out typing from the office. Aminah was probably doing the last of the books before shutting everything down for Christmas, and he knew she and Lyric were going to take a few days for themselves, which he was happy about.

They were both hard workers and absolutely family to him, but he knew they’d given up a lot to be out there. Their house was being built, but it was slow going, and they refused to take any help from him, which he understood. He knew that feeling of pride.

He was overwhelmed with the need to regain his own after his divorce. But he hoped they knew he would give them the shirt off his back in the middle of a blizzard if it meant they could finally create their home.

It didn’t much feel like the holidays either. But then again, it rarely did. The staff worked hard to keep it festive, but all the joy had drained out of Claude years ago, and he wasn’t sure how to get it back. The difference this year was Harley. He couldn’t necessarily say he was feeling the Christmas spirit, but he was certainly feeling something .

His body was still thrumming with a strange kind of need as he pushed his way through the hall and eventually came to a stop in front of Harley’s room. He couldn’t hear anything beyond the door, and a small part of him was terrified that the man had changed his mind.

It wasn’t like he didn’t have reason to. Claude had deceived him.

He took a deep breath, then lifted his fist and knocked. Seconds passed, and his anxiety grew. Then the door opened a tiny crack, and Harley’s face appeared in the gap.

“Hey.”

Claude raised a brow at him. “Bad time?”

Harley burst into soft laughter. “No. I was just in the middle of a panic attack about what to wear.” He opened the door a bit wider, and Claude could see he was in the resort robe. His hair was dry but freshly washed if the scent of the resort shampoo was anything to go by, and his face was clean and shaved.

“Do you want help?”

Harley’s cheeks pinked. “Um. I don’t…I haven’t…” He trailed off with a groan, slapping a hand over his face as he opened his door all the way and leaned against the frame. “I’m so sorry.”

Claude pushed forward a few inches and reached out, grabbing Harley’s free hand. He squeezed his fingers gently and waited until he’d captured his gaze to speak again. “What are you sorry about?”

“I’m making this a bigger deal than it needs to be. Or maybe I’m not making it a big enough deal? I don’t know! Is this… fuck . Is this a date?”

Oh. Yes, his intentions had been clear enough for Harley to think it was possible there was more than just dinner on the table, but Claude should have remembered he wasn’t an easy man to read. He swallowed heavily. “Would it be alright if I came in? We’re at very low occupancy, but I don’t think we should be overheard.”

“Oh God, yeah. Come on in.” Harley stepped all the way back and held the door open for Claude to push past him.

He rolled up to the dresser along the front wall, then set his brake and stood. His legs were a little steadier than before, and he walked to the armchair by the window and took a seat. Harley watched for a beat, then dropped down on the edge of the bed, primly fixing the hem of his robe, though the glimpse beneath that Claude caught was a set of green boxers with little candy canes on them.

He fought back a smile as he cleared his throat. “I don’t date,” he said, and when Harley flinched, he realized how that sounded, and he quickly shook his head. “I’m interested in you. I’m attracted to you. But I don’t date.”

Harley stared at him. “Okay. I don’t understand what you’re trying to say. I’m not great with this sort of thing. I, uh…typically, people need to spell things out for me, and I know it’s really annoying and kind of kills the mood, but?—”

“I thought we might have sex,” Claude blurted. He didn’t regret his words because they were true, but he regretted the way they made Harley look like he’d just been slapped. “Forgive me.”

Harley blinked slowly, then burst into a full-body laugh that knocked him on his side. The sound was so contagious Claude felt himself chuckling along.

“Well, that clears that up,” Harley said once he’d regained his composure.

“I didn’t mean to be crass,” Claude said in a rush.

“No, no. That’s fine. I’d rather someone be crass but say it in a way I understand than try to sugarcoat it, and then I make a fool of myself because I got it wrong.”

Claude felt something twist in his stomach. “How often have people put you in that position?”

Harley sobered, and his ears reddened. “Enough times to know the feeling sucks.”

Claude fiddled with the silver band on his middle finger, twisting it to the right, then to the left as he gathered his thoughts. He wanted this to be sex. He couldn’t deny that. And he knew that more than sex would end in tears for them both.

But he also knew he wanted more than just a night. And more than just Harley’s body. Claude wanted to take a tiny piece of his heart with him. He couldn’t have all of him—their lives were too different and too separate—but he wanted more than just a vague memory.

So maybe this could be something special. A night where he could show Harley he deserved better than all the people who had ever made him hurt or doubt himself.

“My story is long and complicated,” Claude began.

“Divorce, right? Cheating ex?”

Claude’s brows rose high on his forehead. “Someone has been telling on me.”

Harley shrugged and laughed under his breath. “Someone who cares about you. And I get it. You know I do. I kind of spilled my guts all over your massage room floor in the first five minutes that we met.”

Claude dipped his head in a nod. “I found my peace here. I’m finally as close to happy as I think I’ll ever be. So I can never make promises to anyone. You have a life, and eventually, you’ll go back to that.”

Harley swallowed thickly. “I suppose I’ll have to.”

“But maybe we can have this,” Claude said. He shifted to the edge of the chair and offered his hands. After a long moment of hesitation, Harley took them. His fingers were so soft, so warm. “A quiet Christmas. Two weeks—maybe a little longer—where we can get to know each other’s minds and bodies.”

“I’ve never done anything like that before,” Harley admitted. “I don’t know if I’ll be any good at…well. Any of it. My ex wasn’t exactly thrilled with anything about me, so…”

“Your ex is a fool,” Claude said. “I barely know you, but I can already tell you’re better than most people I’ve had in my bed.”

Harley choked a little. “Wow, that was weirdly smooth. You could probably win awards if you ever decided to get into the romance novel business.”

Claude grinned, and he pushed himself to stand, taking Harley with him. “I’ll leave that to you. But if you’re open to my offer?—”

“Yes,” Harley said, cutting him off. “But on one condition.”

Claude raised his left brow. “Let me hear it.”

“If I’m actually terrible at this—sex, romance, whatever—you’ll tell me. I just need to know that someone in my life will be honest, even if it’ll hurt my feelings.”

Claude stepped closer, balancing himself carefully as he cradled Harley’s face between his hands. “Even if it hurts, I’ll tell you. But I’ll let you know right now, I don’t see a world in which any of that is possible.”

“Just wait until things heat up,” Harley muttered.

Claude put a finger under Harley’s chin and lifted. “Oh, trust me. I can’t wait.”