Evan took his arm and said, “Oh no. I’m taking you back home right now. You need to soak in a hot tub and put some ice on that eye to get the swelling down.” He thought it was nice that Carson wanted to go out, but there was no way he’d take him out in that condition. The man needed rest.
As Evan led him out the front door, Carson didn’t object and he didn’t pursue going out. This time Carson let Evan escort him to the corner, hail a cab, and help him into the backseat. When the driver pulled away from the curb, Evan’s phone rang. It was Kenny. He’d called to tell him he was at Zack’s house for the night and he would be home around noon the next day. When he asked how Evan’s evening at the fights had been, Evan smiled and said, “It was amazing. He won. You should have seen the big guy he beat up, too. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
Kenny didn’t sound all that impressed; he didn’t ask Evan where he was, either. He hesitated for a moment, sighed aloud, and said, “I’ll see you in the morning, Dad. Love you.”
Chapter Eight
When the taxi dropped them off in front of Carson’s loft in Chelsea, Carson climbed out of the backseat and pretended he was fine. But Evan had learned to watch expressions closely. As a writer, he kept notes on various expressions so he could use them in his historical novels. One thing about fiction he’d learned was that when people were in pain, they’d made the same expressions in 1815 as they made in 2012. And that night Carson’s face had a pinched, twisted look, as if each step he took toward his building caused him pain. When he tried to smile, he squinted and clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white.
Evan knew Carson was trying to be brave, and he didn’t want to diminish his ego. So he quietly played along with Carson and offered small suggestions without letting Carson know he knew he was in pain. He held the elevator open for him, but he didn’t help him get inside. On the way up, Evan mentioned again how thrilled he’d been to see Carson win the fight. When they reached the door to Carson’s loft and Evan saw he was having trouble lifting his arm to get his hand into his pocket for the keys, Evan sent him a seductive smile and he put his hand in Carson’s pocket before he had a chance to object. In other words, he made it appear he was flirting instead of helping. He did this on purpose because he’d had years of experience dealing with men who had inflated egos and too much pride. Whether or not Carson knew he was doing this he would never know. But he suspected Carson didn’t have a clue. Men with huge egos usually didn’t.
The loft was one vast open-concept space with exposed brick walls and a modern kitchen that had glass cabinets, concrete counters, and one of those huge complicated faucets that had always reminded Evan of an instrument in a doctor’s office. The floors were stained concrete and all the pipes, wires, and duct work had been left exposed. Evan preferred less open-concept and more private, individual rooms. He didn’t mind seeing the kitchen during a dinner party but he didn’t like sleeping in a bedroom that overlooked the living room.
Carson gestured to the living room area and told Evan to have a seat on one of his brown leather sofas. “Can I get you coffee? We can order out, too. I’m not much of a cook.”
Evan walked over to him and reached for his arm. He rubbed it gently and said, “I have a better idea. We can eat later. I don’t like to cook either.” Then he took Carson by the hand and led him to the other end of the loft where he found a large bathroom that had been sectioned off with partial sliding walls made of rice paper and wood.
“What are you up to?” Carson asked. Evan glanced to his left and saw a large sunken bathtub that had been tiled in white marble. “You’re going to take a nice hot bath and relax. After what you’ve been through tonight, you need to be pampered a little.” This was one of Evan’s nicest, yet worst, faults. He actually liked to pamper the men in his life and he didn’t even know why. He’d never been subservient in other areas of his life, just with the men he cared about. It was one of the reasons he’d always let Jeffery get away with so much. Unfortunately, the men in his life had always taken advantage of this.
“Normally I would argue with you,” Carson said. “I hate baths. I prefer showers. I haven’t used that tub in a year. But to be honest, I am a little sore.”
Evan smiled and crossed to the tub without replying. There was a large shower on the other side of the bathroom with more white marble that could have accommodated five people with room to spare. But he thought a bath would be nicer. He’d never met a man yet who didn’t like to be pampered and bathed, with gentle strokes and soothing rubs. The bigger the ego, the more babying they liked. He also knew Carson was more than a little sore, but he didn’t want Carson to know he knew this. While the tub filled with hot water, Evan turned down the lights, lit a few candles Carson had placed around the perimeter of the tub, and gathered a couple of clean towels from a stainless steel shelf. He poured a generous amount of body wash into the tub so there would be bubbles.
While Evan had been drawing his bath, Carson had gone into the bedroom to remove his clothes. When he returned wearing nothing but white boxer briefs, he sent Evan a glance and asked, “Aren’t you going to join me?”
Evan hadn’t removed his clothes. He was kneeling beside the tub, checking the water to make sure it wasn’t too hot. He looked up and smiled. “No, I’m not joining you. This is for you to relax, not to get worked up all over again.” He noticed the bulge in Carson’s briefs. It rounded out in such an obvious way he couldn’t help but notice it. He also noticed Carson’s lean wiry body again. He had some hair on his legs, but not much. His muscles stretched more than they bulged. Even though his knees leaned toward being knobby and his legs slightly bowed, every inch of him was masculine in an athletic way Evan had always found hard to resist in a man. Without shoes, his feet even seemed a little too big for his body. None of this bothered Evan. The only physical traits in men that had ever turned Evan off were soft white-pink skin, weak features, tiny hands, and small feet.
Carson frowned and said, “I think it would be nicer if you took off your clothes, too.” Evan stood up and laughed. He’d already planned to take off all his clothes and get into the tub with him. But not this soon. He walked up to him and reached for the waistband of his briefs and said, “I told you. This is just for you, not me.” Then he gently lowered Carson’s briefs, went down on his knees, and helped Carson step out of them.