Drawn Deep (Afternoon Delight 2)

“Apparently. Though I blame it on Sara’s bad parenting skills. She insisted on keeping him in her room when she and Brad started messing around. And they aren’t quiet. Why do you think I have three pairs of earplugs?”

“I think he’s the one who needs the earplugs. Deviant little thing.”

“Too late now.” Chuckling, she rolled out of bed and crossed the room to the hanging cage. Sara had draped a towel over it in the hopes of helping Telly sleep. Fat chance there. The bird could doze through anything until people started getting freaky. Then he was awake and aware and filing away his pervy mental notes.

Kim pushed aside the towel and slipped her finger between the bars of the cage for a nuzzle. “Hey you. That Sara is a sneaky one, isn’t she? Waiting until I left the room to dump you and run for a booty call.”

Telly chirped and squawked and made his usual noises before adding a tentative, “Fuck slave?”

“Jesus.” Michael turned on the lamp beside the bed and came up behind her to check out the bird, sticking his own hand out for an experimental touch. “He’s gorgeous.”

“And he knows it. Tellyman has the prettiest green feathers in all the land.”

Telly cooed and abandoned her finger for Michael’s, rubbing his head against him with an insistence that caused Michael to lift a brow.

“He wants out,” she explained.

“Out? Like to fly around?”

“Sure. Would you want to be cooped up all day?”

Something almost imperceptible crossed Michael’s face. “No. I’ve been there and it wasn’t fun.”

Casually, she continued to stroke the bright blue stripe on top of Telly’s head. “You weren’t kidding about being locked up in Roch’s house for years, were you?”

“It wasn’t as bad as that. I went into the city sometimes to see my family and I had a couple friends at the beginning, though we drifted apart. But without a job and some reason to be outside of the house, it became isolating. Roch needed a lot of my time.”

“You said she didn’t want to have sex. Was her aversion related to her death?”

“Indirectly, yes. She had lung disease and couldn’t risk the extra exertion.” He pulled at the towel on the cage and tossed it aside. “Eventually the condition killed her.”

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say, especially when he only shrugged. Leaving her no choice but to go with her typical foot-in-mouth stance. “So, lemme guess, you turned to nude modeling to try to have some body contact with someone, even if it was a room full of strangers?” she asked lightly, despite the fists kneading her stomach. It had been a totally random supposition given weight by the tight curl of his lips.

“If I did, that would demonstrate my vast need for—”

“Oh, hairy ball sacs. Starve a man and he’ll scarf down any scrap.”

Michael didn’t reply right away. “You may be biased.”

“And you aren’t seeing clearly. You were denied something natural and basic. Or you allowed yourself to be denied but she was the adult. More an adult than you,” she corr

ected when he started to argue. “She knew better. She took advantage.”

Perhaps she wasn’t the only one. The more she heard about his relationship with Roch, the more she worried she was helping him repeat unhealthy patterns. Did he find himself attracted to older women who would take care of him in one manner or another while he offered his own version of caretaking? Exchange for exchange. And wasn’t that a distilled version of so-called regular relationships anyway?

He was a provider in other aspects of his life. Maybe he needed a different sort of balance in his personal relationships. If so, was that so bad? She had no room to criticize choices. She just didn’t want to hurt him more than he’d already been hurt. Anything other than that. Because she wasn’t Rochelle, looking to move a guy in to keep watch over her and act as entertainment. She had enough trouble taking care of herself to bring another person into her world. As much as she might want to.

More and more with each passing hour, in fact.

“Depends on your perspective. I grew to love her.” He gazed at Telly. “Simple as that.”

“Loving her means you have to stay closeted in that huge place you clearly want to get away from even after she’s gone?” He didn’t respond. “I’m sorry, that makes no sense. You fulfilled any debt you had to her. Now you need to live for you. Sell the house—”

“You don’t understand. She gave me opportunities I never would’ve had on my own.”

Sounded much like the same tune he’d been singing, only now it seemed like he was trying to convince himself too. “So that makes manipulation okay? Manipulation she’s somehow managed to continue even after her death?”

“Manipulation is one of those words people throw around to try to explain choices that defy convention. I was over eighteen. I knew what I was doing.” Jaw clenched, he pinned her with his glittering dark gaze. “If I had the choice to make over, I’d do it again.”