The Right One - Felice Stevens Page 0,44

put on gloves. He had no fear that Leo would hurt him, and he watched as Leo slipped on a pair of bright-red gloves and began to jab at the standing punching bag.

Minutes passed, a lake of sweat spread across Leo’s shirt, but he continued to pound the bag, with no let-up in sight. How long could he continue? Because this was no ordinary workout. It was hard and brutal. A punishment. Leo’s sculpted arms pistoned like jackhammers, his biceps bulged, and a red flush crept up his neck to his face.

Leo was a man possessed.

Morgan waited several moments and then, shaking his head, went to the kitchen and filled up a glass with ice water. He crossed the room and stood by Leo, whose frenzied movements had begun to flag.

“Take a break. Have something to drink.”

Gasping for air, hair slick and wet, his body trembling, Leo dropped his arms to his sides, and Morgan, realizing Leo couldn’t hold the glass with the gloves on, held it to his lips. Leo’s eyes met his as he drank.

“Thank you,” he choked out, still wheezing. Morgan’s attempt to avert his eyes from Leo’s heaving chest failed miserably, but who could blame him? A fine sheen of sweat gilded the tattoos on his arms, highlighting the ink. Morgan wondered if they had any significance.

Leo gulped more water, then backed away, and using his teeth, pulled off the Velcro tabs and removed the gloves. He curled and uncurled his fingers and put the gloves down. If Morgan hoped he’d speak, he was wrong. Leo pulled off his shirt, and Morgan tried desperately to come up with some conversation to take his mind off Leo standing half-naked in front of him.

“Your parents didn’t support you when you came out?”

For the first time that day, Leo smiled, but there was no joy in the upward twist of his lips. “That little scenario you witnessed earlier didn’t give you a clue?” He finished the water. “My father died when I was eight, so he never knew. Hell, at eight I didn’t think about anything except what candy I could get at the movies or when he’d be home so we could play ball.”

White-knuckled, Leo held the glass so tightly, Morgan hoped it wouldn’t shatter and cut his hand to pieces. The man was already so broken and bleeding.

“I’m sorry.”

“He was the best man I’ve ever known. Always made time for me. We’d go to ball games and play in the backyard…” Harsh, painful breaths wracked Leo. “H-he was my hero. A year after he died, my mother remarried, and for a minute I thought maybe Robert would want to be my stepfather, but…” He bit his lip and bowed his head, shaking. The glass fell to the floor.

Without hesitation, Morgan rushed to his side, his instinct kicking in to help someone struggling. “It’s okay, Leo. You can tell me.” He laid a hand on Leo’s damp shoulder. A full-body shudder rippled through him, but Morgan held on, confident he was on the cusp of breaking through.

“Tell you what? That I hated my stepfather because he pretended in front of people to care, but when no one was around he’d call me useless or worse? That my mother didn’t give a shit about anything as long as the credit cards lasted and the money kept flowing so she could go shopping and hang out with her friends? Should I tell you how they couldn’t wait to send me away every summer, ’cause out of sight meant out of mind? Not that I was ever on their minds, except as a burden. How do we get rid of Leo? Where can we dump him?” Hot, harsh breath hit his face, and Leo grabbed his arms, fingers digging painfully into muscle and bone, but Morgan remained unblinking, his heart breaking, and faced him, nose-to-nose. “Once my father died, I wished I had too.”

Panic sheared through Morgan, and he couldn’t imagine the weight of Leo’s anguish. “Leo, no. Don’t ever say that.”

“Too late. I’ve been saying it every day for years.” Bleak despair darkened his eyes, turning them almost black, but Morgan pushed on.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. I wouldn’t want to be any other place right now.”

“Is that so?” Leo trailed fingertips up his arm, and Morgan trembled. “Aren’t you scared of me?” A large hand settled around his nape.

“Should I be?” Morgan blurted.

Leo’s dark brows rose high, and that seductive little dimple winked in the crease of his cheek.