Chapter Eight

Jean-Paul was already home when Cam got back to the apartment. He stepped aside to let Cam in, then walked into his room, returning with a towel in his hand. He was wearing sweats and a t-shirt, and his feet were bare. The desire Cam had been fighting to forget all day roared back to life at the sight of his hairy, muscled arms in the tight shirt.

“Salut! Everything is ready for dinner. We will eat at eight after I get back from the gym.”

Jean-Paul didn’t wait for Cam to answer before heading out the door, closing it quietly behind him. Cam noticed he avoided making eye contact, which for him was a sure sign that whatever had passed between them the night before, that had fueled his solo orgasm, was still very much alive. And he knew Jean-Paul was running away as hard as he could. But he was just as certain he wasn’t going to let things end before they had even begun. There had to be some way for them to handle the desire without losing the friendship.

He went in to put down his bag and slip off his shoes before walking back into the kitchen to pull a beer from the refrigerator. He didn’t know what Jean-Paul planned to make, and he wasn’t up to figuring it out. His head was elsewhere. He snagged an orange from the fruit bowl, peeled it and ate it before going out to the living room and switching on the television. He would distract himself for a while, and depending on how long Jean-Paul stayed away, he might do a little more work on his project before printing it.

The news was depressing, as always, and he felt a twinge of pain to know he was sitting in the seat of power listening as those on Capitol Hill, where he had just been walking two days ago, continued to oversee the chaos that had become politics in DC. He switched to the BBC, and found, not surprisingly, that American political shenanigans were front and center there, too. But he stayed, because he knew there’d be more than just a rehash of American news. It wasn’t called the World News for nothing, after all.

He finished the beer and put the bottle in the recycling. Jean-Paul was still out, so he went back to his room and retrieved his laptop. He’d sit in the office and work on it till dinner time. He got lost in the details, hashing out what he felt was best for the project, eliminating a few more things, adding in a couple. He adjusted his PowerPoint presentation to match the newest version, saved both and was just about to print them when he heard the door open. He glanced at his watch and saw it was already almost six-thirty.

Jean-Paul had been away almost an hour and a half. Cam got up and went out to meet him, concerned that maybe he’d be too tired to do dinner on his own. Whatever he had been doing, he was a hot mess. Sweat stains spread from under his armpits down his chest to his belly, and Cam was sure if he turned around, his back would be just as soaked. His dark hair was plastered on his forehead, and even with a headband on, it was clearly also very wet. He was breathing easily enough, but Cam could feel the tension rolling off him in waves when he rounded the corner and stopped to look him over.

“Bad day at work?” he asked, knowing with almost complete certainty Jean-Paul’s need for a hard workout had nothing to do with his job and everything to do with his visitor.

“Something like that, oui.” He raised a hand to swipe at the sweat drop rolling down to his left eye and turned. “I’ll be out to start dinner in a bit. I hope you’re not too hungry?”

“I’m fine. Anything I can do until you come?”

Why those words sounded so dirty Cam couldn’t say, but something about the look on Jean-Paul’s face when he asked the question told him the other man had enjoyed the same thought...him coming onto Cam. He watched as color washed up Jean-Paul’s wet neck, and he wondered if it would be hot on his tongue if he licked him there. He stepped closer, keeping his eyes on the man who was watching him just as closely, his eyes tracking over Cam’s face and landing with unerring focus on his lips.

Cam licked them, wanting to wind him up, daring him to follow through on the need he was finally letting shine out from his brilliant blue eyes. Kiss me, you fool! The words whispered in his mind. Where had he heard them before? A movie? A musical? Wherever it was, they sounded exactly the sentiment he had been having. He saw when Jean-Paul stepped closer, and now they were definitely in each other’s personal space. Cam could smell the scent of his sweat and feel the heat radiating off his body.

“Something you need, Jean-Paul?” he asked, his voice husky even to his own ears. Tell me you need me.

The Frenchman blinked once, slowly, and raised a hand to trace Cam’s bottom lip with trembling fingers. “I need many things, Camden. But you cannot help me with any of them.”

He withdrew his hand and stepped back, but Cam kept pace with him, keeping the distance between them as it was.

“You sure about that?” he asked gruffly. He wanted Jean-Paul’s fingers right back where they’d just been, and anywhere else he chose to put them.

“I am not sure about anything, mon ami.” This time, he took two steps back and opened his bedroom door. “If you still wish to help with dîner, you can make the salade, and decide which cheese you want on the cheese board. Oh, and choose the wine.”

His accent had grown heavier. Cam understood that about him now...when he was emotionally compromised, Jean-Paul became more French than usual. He ducked inside his room and closed the door. Cam stood still, willing his body to calm down, bringing his breathing back under control. Then he went to do as he’d been directed. He also set the table and was just finishing, when Jean-Paul walked into the kitchen. He smelled good, like body wash and man.

Cam took him in as he walked over to the refrigerator. He had opted for a long-sleeved Henley shirt, rolled up to the elbows, and faded, loose-fitting jeans. His feet were still bare, and Cam tore his eyes away from the sight. Everything about him was a turn on, it seemed. He had never before known the sight of hairy forearms and long, slender toes could make him want to jump out of his skin. He straightened up from where he had been leaning against the door jamb and said, “Let me know when you’re ready to serve. I’ll help you put things on the table.”

“Merci beaucoup.”

He was still avoiding looking at Cam, which was fine by him. If they locked eyes, there was no telling what he’d do, and dinner would be delayed till breakfast if he touched Jean-Paul now. He went and took a shower instead, changing into sweats and a tank top. The carpet muffled his footsteps as he walked by the kitchen, but Jean-Paul was at the stove, cooking something delicious in a pot. A half-full wine glass sat on the counter next to the stove.

His mouth watered, and he chose to think it was because of the food smells, and not because the man he was obsessing over was wiggling his ass to whatever music was playing in his head. As if he sensed that he was being watched, Jean-Paul turned, and this time their eyes made contact. The punch to the gut was enormous. If the eyes were truly the windows to the soul, then Jean-Paul’s soul was crying out to him...until he shuttered them and turned away.

Hell no! We’re not doing this anymore. Fuck that! Cam turned and walked into the kitchen, going to stand right next to him at the stove.

“Why do you keep running away?”

Jean-Paul kept working, turning the steaks in the pan. “I don’t know what you mean. I am right here.”

“Why’d you look away just now? Why won’t you look at me now? What have I done to offend you, Jean-Paul?”

He knew he hadn’t offended him, but he wanted the man to open up, and he knew an accusation, or even the suggestion that he had been a poor host, would loosen his tongue.

“Why do you think you have offended me?”

He was still not looking at Cam, but he had stopped what he was doing and was just watching the meat sizzle in the pan. Dinner was definitely going to be spoiled tonight, because Cam wasn’t going to back down now.

“You’ve been acting different since I got home. Something’s bothering you, and I think it’s something to do with me. I want to know what it is. I think I have a right to know if I’m upsetting you, even though it’s unintentional.”

Jean-Paul finished what he was doing, and turned the heat off the meat. He put the steaks in a covered dish and placed them in the warming drawer of the stove. Then he sighed heavily and moved away, putting distance between himself and Cam. He walked out to the living room and turned to face Cam.

“I cannot do this anymore, Camden. I cannot pretend to be immune.”

Cam’s eyes widened as he stared at the man standing before him, fully clothed and yet stripped bare emotionally. The stark hunger in his gaze was like a match to the kindling desire twisting in Cam’s gut.

“Immune? To what?” Cam needed Jean-Paul to say the words. “What are you saying, Jean-Paul?”

“I think you know, Camden. I think you know that I am not immune to you. I think you have known what I am feeling from that very day when we went for a walk together for the first time around the capital. You knew when you saw me after my shower yesterday morning. And last night when I fell into your lap because I had too much to drink at dinner. And earlier tonight when we were a breath away from devouring each other. When I brought you here to my apartment and you saw the person I am when I am alone, you knew then.”

He pushed his clenched fists into his pockets, looking Cam dead in the eye for the second time. Cam wondered if he felt the shock of their connection as vividly as he did.

“But, I think you also know we should not start something that will not end happily."

“Define ‘something.’”

Cam was having trouble speaking past the lust he was fighting to control. He wasn’t going to let Jean-Paul get away with vague statements. He wanted him to say he didn’t want what was happening, that it didn’t matter to him. He needed him to say that, so he could finally rein in his runaway emotions.

Jean-Paul stood near the French doors that led out to the balcony, his back to the view of the Washington Monument, and moved to cross his arms over his chest, his tall body tight with tension. His stance tested Cam’s need to spin him around and push him up against the glass. The things he wanted to say to the man struggling to deny the heat between them bubbled inside him.

“Camden, please, do not do this.” Jean-Paul’s voice held a desperate plea. “You are only here in the city for one more day. I am only here in the States for five more months. Then I must return to France. We will have no more time to play this game when you go home again. I beg you to let this go.”

Cam stalked toward him, a predator stalking his prey. “What if I stay through the weekend? Would you let me? We’d have three more days together then. And what if I tell you I don’t care that you’re leaving in five months? That this is not a game to me? That I’m willing to believe we can make something of this? Are you gonna refuse me because you’re worried about the future, when I’m most concerned about the present? Are you really giving up on us now because you’re scared about what might happen then?”

Jean-Paul uncrossed his arms and moved as if to step away from him, but Cam stopped him with a hard hand on his bicep. He hissed as though Cam’s hand burned him and rested his own on top but didn’t pull it away from his arm.

“Is this what you want? A fling?”

Cam pulled him closer. “Did I say that?” he asked, unable to mask the growl in his voice.

He wanted Jean-Paul, and had from that first evening in DC a month earlier when he had stayed back for drinks after dinner with the kids. Their friendship had grown, but it hadn’t lessened his need to know this man in ways no regular friends would want to know each other. He wanted to taste him, to inhale his scent without having to disguise what he was doing, to run his hands over his body, to hold him close and feel him. And he didn’t want to wait any longer to do any of those things.

“What else could it be?” Jean-Paul asked, apparently determined to drive a wedge between them.

Cam was having none of it. “I don’t know,” he said, not releasing Jean-Paul’s arm, but adding his other hand to the other arm. “And right now, to be honest, I don’t give a shit what else it could be. I just want what it is now. Are you gonna refuse me?” He repeated his earlier question.

Jean-Paul stared at him, then closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Cam pulled him all the way into his body and slipped his arms around his smaller waist. Jean-Paul lowered his head, his eyes still closed, and Cam touched his lips gently with his own.

“Well? Are you?” He refused to let Jean-Paul ignore his question.

“You will not take no for an answer, will you?” The Frenchman sighed.

“Only if you look me in the eye when you say no to me,” Cam demanded, daring him to lie about what he wanted.

Jean-Paul opened his eyes, the beautiful blue orbs dark with desire. “You know that I cannot say no.”

“Then say yes.” Cam leaned in and bussed his lips once more, lightly, not wanting to push him any further now that he knew he had won.

This time, it was Jean-Paul who stole a kiss, settling his lips lightly over Cam’s for a long, teasing moment before releasing him to whisper against them.

“Yes.”

Cam felt Jean-Paul’s arms wrap around him as they moved into their first real kiss together, each giving entry to the other, opening to slide in, to explore, to lick and duel and play, to suckle and devour. They strained against each other, holding on to keep themselves from falling, not stopping to breathe until their lungs cried out for air. Gasping and shaking with need, Cam backed him up against the wall and sank his tongue into his mouth again, savoring him, delighting in the sweetness of his breath and the taste of wine on his tongue, and the feel of his hardening cock against his own. This was more than he could ever have imagined, this second kiss better than the first. He suspected they would each be better than the last, and he wasn’t going to let the Frenchman escape, not now that he had won the first battle.

“Come with me?” he asked, leaning away to look into Jean-Paul’s face. “Stay with me tonight. I’ve been needing to feel you for a while now. Let’s go to bed.”

A soft smile shimmered over his lips as Jean-Paul replied, “Only if you promise to respect me in the morning.”

Cam laughed softly then. “Somehow, I think I’m the one who should be worrying about that. But, if it’ll make you feel better, and stop stalling, I promise to respect you tomorrow morning, and every morning that we wake up together.”

Then he pulled his head in again for another kiss, reveling in the feel and the taste of him, opening himself to Jean-Paul, as he opened his mouth under his, letting him take anything he wanted, giving him everything he had to give.

“What about dinner?”

Cam laughed softly. “Steaks won’t spoil, will they?”

“No. But I had plans for an elaborate meal.”

“Are you hungry?” Cam smirked at the flare of heat that flashed out at him from Jean-Paul’s baby blues. He already knew the answer to that question.

“I think you know very well that I am, M. Archer. Why do you like to tease me so much?”

“Because you’re so easy.”

He stole another kiss, leading Jean-Paul to his room, pulling him in and shutting the door behind him so he could press him up against it. He loved the way his body felt when it was lined up with Jean-Paul’s own. His kiss was hard, demanding, ravenous, and he only let him loose when they both needed to come up for air.

Jean-Paul cupped his head in his hands and turned them so Cam’s back was to the door. Then he pressed in against him, and Cam’s cock jerked at the feel of Jean-Paul’s steely length against him.

“I think you will find that I am not easy at all,” he murmured, pushing his hips into Cam’s again. “As you can see, I am quite hard.”

Cam laughed. “Oh, so now you’re flipping meanings on me, huh?”

“Mais bien sûr! How do you say it en anglais...two can play?”

Jean-Paul looked way too pleased with himself, making Cam grin. He loved how different he was when he relaxed and let the hidden man out to play. Cam pulled his mouth back in and kissed him again before replying.

“Yeah, two can. So, what exactly are we waiting for?”

Jean-Paul’s kiss said he was wondering the same thing.