Snow Storm

Chapter 10

Harley

Somehow, his hands weren’t shaking. Harley felt like he was holding a hurricane in his chest, but he was taking easy, steady steps across the lobby floor as he followed Claude to the little tunnel walkway that led to his place. Harley had seen the staff cabins on his morning walk, but he hadn’t considered the owner actually living there.

He hugged his coat tightly around his body as they made their way from the safety of the enclosure to the small path that led to Claude’s doorway ramp, but they didn’t have to suffer long. He had the front door open, and before Harley could take a breath, he was bustled inside and pressed against the wall.

“Let me help you out of this.” Claude’s large, powerful hands stripped him of his coat and hung it up on a peg before he rolled back and took a long, slow look at him. “Better?”

Harley swallowed thickly and nodded. It was better, even if he felt oddly vulnerable in his Henley and jeans. He’d stopped panicking when he realized that he didn’t need to impress Claude. He wasn’t on some kind of sex trial where his words, actions, and outfit would determine whether or not Claude wanted to fuck him.

He didn’t have to do some fancy bird-mating dance with bright colors and funny whistles.

Dear God, what was wrong with his head. He tried to hide his laugh behind his hand, but Claude raised a brow at him, wheeling back a few more inches.

“Am I being ridiculous?”

Harley shook his head and cleared his throat. “I have a very overactive imagination, and…well. It’s not important. I’m just glad you like me, even when I’m, you know, this.”

Claude licked his lips. “ This ? Attractive? Funny? Sweet?”

“A disaster?”

“You’re nothing of the sort, and I hope by the end of the night, you realize I don’t see you as anything other than the man I want to spend my evening with. Now, come with me, and I’ll show you the rest of the house.” Claude spun his chair and pushed the wheels hard, gliding across the tiled hallway.

Harley ducked his head. “Okay.”

He quickly followed and came to a skidding halt right before crashing into Claude, who was now standing. The larger man caught him around the waist, using one hand to brace himself against the wall, and he tugged Harley close.

“Please don’t hurt yourself. I’d be happy to take care of you, but I have better plans than that tonight.”

Christ, the man was smooth. If he wouldn’t become a writer, maybe he’d be willing to become a consult because Harley couldn’t come up with shit like that on his own. He managed a smile as he took a step back, but Claude didn’t let him go right away.

“I’ll be careful. I promise,” he murmured softly.

Claude grinned down at him and brushed a finger along his jaw. “Good.”

Swallowing thickly, Harley allowed himself to bask in the touch, but only for a moment. He knew what this night was supposed to mean, but he needed some time to process it. He took a breath, then asked, “Can I help with anything?”

Claude shook his head with a grin. “No, chéri. Go sit. Take a few breaths.” He lifted his hand away from Harley’s waist and brushed a curled knuckle over his cheek. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Those simple, common words sounded like a vow, and Harley was pretty sure his ex had never looked at him the way Claude was looking at him now. His throat was hot. He wanted to rise up onto his toes and kiss the man.

Instead, he backed out of Claude’s grasp and then headed into the living room. He could hear heavy footsteps on the tile as Claude moved into the kitchen, and when everything went quiet, Harley did a once around the room.

It was a simple place with wood floors that felt warm under his socked feet, walls that were painted a café au lait color that made the place feel cozy, and the furniture all matched the earthy theme.

He’d half expected it to be full of deer heads and cowboy stuff—not that Claude had given him those kinds of vibes. But something about him screamed mountain man, and the only thing Claude was really missing was the thick beard and the Southern accent. Though he did like the French better.

God, he’d make an amazing book character, which was maybe a really fucked-up thing to think. But he also had a feeling Claude might not mind being an inspiration in a love story.

He made a mental note to jot that idea down in his writing notepad as he collapsed on the couch. There was no coffee table, so he stretched his feet out in front of him and rubbed them together. His father used to call him a little cricket because his legs were never still. It was soothing, and he lost himself to the rhythm of it and didn’t notice when Claude appeared.

“Are you nervous?”

Harley’s whole body froze, and it took him a second to speak. “Yes.”

Claude grinned. He was using a walker—a much sleeker contraption than the one Harley’s abuela had used right before she passed. Hers had been a huge metal contraption with tennis balls on the feet. It always made the loudest clicking sound that had come to define her.

Claude’s was nothing like that. It was silent, and the metal was a dark black with a metallic sheen and thin handles. He leaned heavily on it as he walked across the room, and Harley noticed he’d taken off his boots. His feet were large, and they dragged just a little on the floor with each step.

Following Harley’s gaze, Claude let out a little sigh as he set the walker to the side and sat down. “My old physical therapist called me a walking paraplegic. That’s not an official term, but it’s the best way to explain it.”

Harley flushed. “I wasn’t going to ask.”

Claude used his hands to help him shift a little closer. “I know you weren’t. But it’s better that you know because it’ll be different with me than with most of the men you’ve been with. I don’t have the same function as someone without a spinal injury.”

Harley didn’t want to admit he didn’t exactly have a wide range of experiences with men. He’d dated a couple of guys before his ex, and Darren was never super enthused about sleeping with him. Their sex life had been more like a chore than something either of them had wanted, and he could count on one hand how many times they’d slept together in the past year.

“May I ask what happened? I won’t be offended if you don’t want to talk about it,” Harley added quickly.

Claude gave him a small, careful smile. “I know you won’t. And I don’t mind. The accident didn’t derail my life the way something like this might have done to someone else. I wasn’t very active, so I didn’t lose any of my hobbies or anything like that.” Claude took a breath, and though he said it wasn’t hard for him, Harley could tell the story wasn’t easy to relive. “My ex-wife asked me to go on a hike with her for my birthday one year. I was hesitant about it—like I said, I was not very active, but it was a nice day out, so I agreed. I was unprepared for how difficult it was, and we were very high in elevation. I got dizzy, and I fell. It wasn’t very far, but my body hit a couple of boulders in just the right way. My hips were shattered, and several of my vertebrae were broken. The pressure of the break damaged my spinal cord.”

Harley sucked in a breath. “Oh my God. You could have died.”

Claude nodded. “I was able to catch a very large tree branch though, and I hadn’t fallen too far for paramedics to reach me. I spent several months not able to move my legs at all, but eventually, I was able to walk again. I’ll never run a marathon, but I’d never aspired to do that anyway. And while I can probably go on a small hike, it’s not my most favorite activity after that.”

Harley let out a sharp laugh before slapping his hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. That’s not funny.”

Claude gently pulled his hand down and kept his fingers tight around Harley’s wrist. “I was trying to make you laugh. I love the sound of it.”

Harley flushed. “Thank you. Um. But you don’t need to flatter me if you don’t want to. I promise you, I’m a sure thing.”

A strange expression flittered across Claude’s face—one Harley didn’t recognize. He went still all over, then slowly lifted his hand. Harley’s breath caught in his chest as tender fingers brushed a few locks of hair off his forehead. Claude trailed them down the side of his cheek, tracing his jawline, ghosting down the side of his neck where his pulse was pounding.

“I—um.”

Claude’s lips rose in the corners with a hint of a smile. “It’s okay to make me work for it. You deserve to have your love and attention earned.”

Love. Harley felt like he’d been gut punched. He knew he didn’t mean love love. Not in love. That wasn’t possible after just a few hours. But hearing the word from Claude’s lips made him wonder, just for a moment, what it would be like to have this man. For Claude to be his entirely—heart, body, mind, and soul.

Everything about him was intense. Powerful. Unforgiving, but in the best way. He could ruin Harley, and all Harley would want to do was thank him and ask for more.

He licked his lips. “I don’t know what to say.”

Claude chuckled softly. “You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to stop apologizing for being yourself. I asked you here because I like you.”

Claude used his free hand to help himself shift a little closer. Their thighs were pressed together now, and Harley swore his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. How did a single touch do that? He wasn’t a virgin. He might not have been adventurous in his past, but he’d fucked people he’d just met before.

So how could this one man make him feel so much in such a short span of time?

Maybe it was the holidays. Maybe the loneliness of Christmas and knowing his life was in shambles was getting to him. But that didn’t seem fair to Claude, and Harley was a realist. He’d spent dozens of holidays on his own with a quick call to Wes to say hello and then locked in his office with only work to distract him.

This was different.

“It’s almost time to eat,” Claude said, his voice still very soft. “But before we do, I think I’d like to kiss you.”

Harley felt heat rush from his chest to his face, the force of it making him dizzy. His mouth was suddenly too dry.

“But if you don’t want?—”

“I want,” he blurted quickly. He suddenly felt like he was going to die if he didn’t get this man’s mouth on his own in the next ten seconds. His hands trembled as he turned his whole body and reached for Claude. “I really, really want.”

Claude’s smile widened, and he reached out, taking Harley by the wrists. He guided his hands to his chest, flexing his pecs against Harley’s curious fingers. They were rock hard, his nipples stiff beneath his shirt. His mouth went from Sahara dry to nearly drooling with his need to get his tongue on them.

But that wasn’t on the table.

Not yet.

For now, it was just a kiss. He wasn’t even sure what kind of kiss it would be, but he didn’t care. He tilted his head to the side the moment Claude’s palm touched his cheek. He let himself be guided, drawn in, body loose and pliant and ready to take anything he was given.

“You are so beautiful,” Claude murmured.

Harley blinked. “Ha. Well…thank you, but…”

“No.” Claude leaned in and silenced him with a swift peck. It was so quick Harley wasn’t exactly sure it had happened apart from the way his lips tingled after. “No ‘but.’ I don’t need to lie to get what I want. You haven’t been appreciated enough, and I’m sorry for that.”

Harley shook his head. “I know I’m not bad-looking. But ,” he laughed when Claude rolled his eyes, “get to know me a little better, and you’ll probably see why my shitty ex is the only person who ever stuck around long enough to be considered a relationship.”

“He was a fool who took up your precious time, and I’m sorry you suffered for someone who never appreciated you the way you deserve. But I’m not sorry it left you single and here this Christmas.” The words rushed out, liquid, poetic, and before Harley could react, Claude drew him in and kissed him.

His breath rushed out through his nose as his lips parted, and a moment later, Claude’s warm tongue was touching his own. He was gentle and careful but persistent. He urged Harley into a soft dance, their bodies surging and moving with the rhythm of the kiss, and Harley knew that if Claude wasn’t careful, he’d give up sleeping, eating, and breathing just to keep doing this.

The only thing that mattered was this man’s hands on him as they explored down his chest, around his ribs, up his spine, then back down to grip the globes of his ass. He lifted Harley with a strength that startled him, arranging him on his lap with his knees pressed into the couch cushions.

He groaned, and Claude caught the sound on his tongue, swallowing it down before kissing him harder. Deeper. He matched Harley’s groan with one of his own as he urged Harley’s hips to rock against him.

His cock ached with the need to be touched. Rubbing off on Claude’s hip through his pants wasn’t enough. But he knew, in that moment, that was all he was going to get. It was all Claude would allow until he was ready.

The kiss broke with a gasp, and Claude kept him in close, holding his forehead against Harley’s. “Just as I imagined.”

“Oh?”

“Beautiful.”

Harley didn’t know what to do with that word. Twice now, he’d used it for Harley. Most of the compliments men threw his way had been indirect and insincere. Even in the beginning, when Darren had been trying to win his attention, he never called Harley beautiful.

He swallowed heavily. “That was the best kiss of my life.”

Claude smiled and stole another peck before pushing Harley several inches back. “Food.”

“I don’t need to be fed.”

Claude’s smile got wider, and he cupped Harley’s jaw. “You need to be spoiled, and I’ve worked hard on our dinner. I have a fragile ego, so I’d like you to try it and tell me how amazing I am, even if you hate it.”

Harley burst into laughter. “Okay, okay. Wow me with your culinary skills.” Then, unable to stop himself, he leaned in and took a kiss of his own.

Claude gave over willingly. Happily. Enthusiastically. It went on and on until Claude pulled back and groaned. “Enough for now.”

Harley didn’t want to stop, but he still slid off the man’s lap and stood up, stretching his arms above his head before offering his hands out. Claude took them and used more force than Harley was expecting to haul himself to his feet.

Right. He’d nearly forgotten. Harley did his best not to stare as Claude grabbed his walker, then made his way through the kitchen door with Harley close at his heels.

It was a cozy space, like the rest of his house, with warm cherrywood cabinets and a table to match in the corner. It was nestled in a nook with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the snowy field.

Very far off in the distance, Harley could make out the barn. “I saw you earlier,” he said as he took the seat Claude gestured to. “Out there.”

Claude lifted his brows as he parked his walker, then made his way to the oven. The door opened with a creaking groan, and a beat later, he was back at the table with a blue ceramic dish covered with a matching lid. “In the field?”

“With the cows. The Highland cattle,” Harley corrected. “That’s where I ran into Aminah.”

Claude rolled his eyes as he set the dish down, then sat across from Harley and used an oven mitt to take the lid off. “She told me all about that. I was a little surprised you didn’t recognize me.”

“You’re underestimating how terrible my eyes are, even with my contacts in,” Harley told him, wrinkling his nose. “I chose writing words over being able to see the third line in the eye chart.”

Claude chuckled as he began to dish out the meal. It looked hearty—beans, chicken on the bone, and pieces of sausage. It was very browned, and it somehow smelled like the comforts of a childhood Harley had never experienced but had always wanted.

“Is that a good smile?” Claude asked. “Or a polite one?”

Harley blinked. “Oh. It’s a good one. This smells amazing.”

“It was my mother’s recipe. She made this a lot. It was easy to make in large batches, and it kept us fed when we were very food-poor.”

Harley bit his lip. He never knew what to say whenever people talked about difficult childhoods. Everything came out trite—or worse, sarcastic when he didn’t mean it to. His voice lacked a little affect, and he’d always been a bit…flat. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin this.

“I made you uncomfortable.”

“No,” Harley said in a rush. “No, I—thank you for sharing that with me.”

Claude’s eyes glimmered in the low light. “A very diplomatic answer.”

Harley did the only thing he could think of. He took a massive scoop of the beans, chicken, and sausage and shoved it into his mouth. It was too much, but he forced his jaw to chew until it was safe enough to swallow. It was searing hot, and the roof of his mouth felt like it was melting.

His eyes were watering, but he managed a smile. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Claude blinked, then chuckled softly as he quickly reached past the casserole dish for the pitcher of cold water. He hurriedly poured some into Harley’s glass and shoved it at him. “Here. Drink this, mon chou.”

Harley almost choked on the water as he gulped it down, and he only dribbled a little, swiping his hand over his mouth. “Chou?” he rasped.

Claude dragged a hand over his face. “It means cabbage. It’s a term of endearment in French. And you are endearing. Sweet—if not a little foolish. You’re supposed to wait until it’s not steaming.”

“I panicked,” Harley said miserably. He hadn’t been lying though. From the taste buds he hadn’t burnt off, the food was as amazing as Claude had promised it would be.

“Clearly. Here.” Claude leaned over, taking Harley’s fork out of his hand. He speared off a bit of chicken from the bone, then took beans with it. His lips pursed, and he blew gently on the bite, then pressed the tines to Harley’s lips. “Taste.”

His mouth opened. The metal of the fork—warm, but not molten hot—scraped over his tongue. He closed his teeth around it and felt the slow drag. No dinner in his life had ever been this sensual. And he’d once gotten a hand job under the table from a date the day after he turned twenty-one.

“Better?”

Harley swallowed thickly. “Yes.” His voice was barely a whisper.

Claude’s grin softened, his eyes going a little dark. Instead of handing the fork back, he speared another bite. This time sausage. His lips pursed in a kiss, and he blew on the food again until it was no longer steaming, then fed Harley the bite.

His cock thickened, and he shifted in his chair as he chewed. Claude’s brows lifted a fraction, and there was a faint hint of color in his cheeks. “Are you uncomfortable?”

Harley took a sip of water as he found the courage to answer honestly. “I’m turned on.”

Claude looked startled, like maybe he hadn’t expected to say it aloud like that. God, why was he always so blunt? Why couldn’t he be smooth and seductive? He glanced away, but he was granted the reprieve from Claude’s intense gaze only for a moment.

His hand caught Harley’s chin and brought his attention back. “Are you hard?”

Harley was helpless against the question. He wanted to lie, but that was impossible. “Yes.”

“Can I feel it?”

Oh, fuck . “Yes.”

Claude rose from the chair with a notable tremble in his legs. He moved to the one directly beside Harley, then spread his legs, leaning over the edge of the table. His hand fell below, moving, searching. Then, fingers landed on Harley’s thigh. He jumped a little and blushed harder when Claude smiled.

“If you ever need to tell me to stop?—”

“I’m not afraid of speaking up for myself,” Harley told him. That was true. It had always been true. People walked all over him when he let them, but he was also the sort of man who burnt bridges to ash to avoid them ever being crossed again.

Claude’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, and his fingers began to search again, moving up Harley’s leg to the point where he wanted to be touched most. His breath left his chest in a rush as Claude cupped him through his pants. His cock twitched hard, and he rocked his hips forward like he couldn’t help himself.

“I knew you’d respond to me,” Claude murmured. He gently stroked the palm of his hand over Harley’s dick. “You want me.”

“I thought I was incredibly obvious,” Harley said, his voice thready.

Claude slipped his hand around the back of Harley’s neck and yanked him close. Their lips were almost touching. “I was too afraid to hope.”

And then they were kissing again. Harley realized then his hunger would only be sated by Claude—by his touch, his kisses, his hands on him. Their tongues danced, desperate and needy. Claude moaned and pulled back, dropping his forehead to Harley’s shoulder.

“I want you.”

“I’m right here.”

“I’ll need a moment. A few moments,” Claude said. “I took something to help with…” He gestured toward his lap.

Ah. Harley hadn’t thought about it, but it made sense. “Take me to your bedroom. I can be patient for that, but I’m done waiting to be touched.”

Claude’s head lifted, and their gazes connected. “Go. My room is down the hall, second door on the right. Get undressed. You might have patience, but mine has run out. I’ll be in soon.”

Harley was trembling from head to toe, but his entire body went limp when, instead of letting him go, Claude pulled him in for another fierce kiss. It went on and on until his dick was leaking and his toes were curled. And only then was he released.

“Go,” Claude said again.

This time, Harley obeyed.