King of the Kitchen (13 page)

Prepping for the new show segments had eaten into what little free time Beck had, and the result was he hadn’t been to the gym all week. He ached to hit the treadmill and run until his mind went blank, or maybe slip into the pool and swim laps until his lungs were screaming. Instead he settled for taking out some of his pent-up energy on the stairs a few times a day.

As a bonus, running the steps helped him manage his sexual frustration, which had to be at an all-time high. The worst part was Duncan really had no idea how provocative he could be purely by being himself—even when he wasn’t flirting and playing at being seductive, Beck wanted to push him up against the nearest hard surface.

He took a breath and forced the thought out of his mind. Stairs. That would help.

“You go ahead and go down. It’s on level six, and there’s a sign as soon as you get onto the floor. It shouldn’t be locked. I’m going to run upstairs for a minute, and then I’ll join you.”

Being in the locker room with Duncan was the last thing Beck wanted, but avoiding it would call even more attention to his growing attraction to Duncan. Beck felt shy about admitting how caged he’d been feeling, especially when a lot of it was due to Duncan’s presence. Duncan seemed oblivious to Beck’s stupid schoolboy crush on him. Or else he was being chivalrous and ignoring it for Beck’s sake.

God, he hoped that wasn’t it. How humiliating.

Though to be fair, Duncan really didn’t have it in him to be selfless. If he thought he had any sort of dirt on Beck, he’d use it to tease him mercilessly. Small favors, Beck figured. The fact that he wasn’t getting teased about his crush must mean Duncan didn’t know about it.

He hadn’t mentioned last week’s kiss, and Beck hadn’t either. He chalked it up to the heat of the moment. If it had been more, surely Duncan would have said something about it later, right?

“Do you want me to come with you?” Duncan asked, poised on the top step, his expression expectant.

“No,” Beck said, “it’ll only take a second. Go ahead and get started. I’ll show you where the reserve whites are after we shower.”

Which meant he’d be treated to a view of Duncan’s naked chest, but it couldn’t be helped. The showers weren’t set up with any sort of shelves, just hooks for towels. The shower curtains were flimsy, so the towels ended up getting half-soaked most of the time; any clothes hung on the hook would be even worse off.

The studio provided towels and soap, but the brand was floral and made Beck sneeze. He tossed Duncan his locker key. “Towels are on the shelf, and you can help yourself to my toiletry kit if you like.”

The offer had nothing to do with Beck wanting to know what his soap smelled like on Duncan. Nope. Not at all. It was the friendly thing to do, saving Duncan from smelling like someone’s elderly grandmother.

“I could wait—”

Nope. Beck definitely didn’t want to suffer through showering next to Duncan, knowing he was naked and wet and only a thin shower curtain away.

“Nah, you said you felt gross. Go ahead and shower. I’ll be back down in a few.”

Duncan studied him for a long second like he was going to protest again, but then he shrugged and trotted down the stairs toward the sixth floor.

Finally.

Beck took the first two flights at a measured pace, in case his steps echoed and gave him away. But as soon as he made it up to the ninth floor and was reasonably certain Duncan couldn’t hear him anymore, he let loose.

The soles of his wingtips weren’t great for running stairs, but he made do. He kept one hand on the railing, and it was enough to stop him from face-planting every time he slipped. He made it up nine flights before his thighs started to burn, and the exhilaration of getting his blood pumping sent him roaring up ten more. He’d have to turn around in another floor since the top floor was locked, but it felt good to be out of breath. Focusing on the burn in his muscles and the drag of his breath kept him from thinking too much about Duncan, and it was a welcome relief.

The situation Beck was in was entirely his own fault. Everything between him and Duncan was a competition, and it seemed they were forever trying to one-up each other, even now that the animosity was mostly gone. He’d let himself settle into an ease with Duncan he felt with very few other people, and it was going to lead to disaster.

It was hard to adjust to being attracted to someone every bit as stubborn and challenge-oriented as he was. Beck hadn’t ever analyzed his dating choices before, but what he felt when he was around Duncan was so different that it wasn’t hard to see he’d gravitated toward lovers who would let him be the dominant partner. Not that he’d ever flaunted that over them—he hadn’t. Beck was devoted to making sure he and his boyfriends were on equal footing, but he could see in hindsight that while he’d considered them equals, his past boyfriends had all had a tendency to want the same things Beck did. There hadn’t been the same fire he had with Duncan, and he and Duncan weren’t even dating.

It was ridiculous, is what it was. He was half-crazy over a man who barely considered him a friend. Sure, they were great at bantering and flirting. It even carried over into rehearsals, and everyone had been pleased to see Beck ad-libbing and keeping up seamlessly with Duncan’s antics in the run-through. He had no doubt it would go just as smoothly during filming tomorrow.

But professional camaraderie was all this was to Duncan. The way he was steadfastly ignoring any mention of their kiss proved that. And one thing everyone agreed on was that Beck Douglas was the consummate professional. The argument with Duncan that had started this entire mess was the exception to that rule, and he wasn’t going to let the way Duncan got under his skin hurt his career.

Besides, once the show aired next week, he and Duncan wouldn’t have to be seen together out in public anymore. The official PR story Lindsay’s office was working up would be that they’d been meeting to plan Duncan’s guest spot on
King of the Kitchen
, so once that was over, there would be no reason for the two of them to see each other anymore.

If you didn’t count the fact that apparently they shared most of the same friends and a lot of the same interests. Along with Beck’s growing attraction to Duncan, and the way he felt at ease around him.

Which Beck didn’t count, because that way lay madness. He didn’t have time for another stair sprint, and if he thought too much about all the reasons he and Duncan should still see each other after tomorrow, then he’d undo all the good he did with the first set.

Beck trotted down the last flight of stairs, getting his breath back. He knew he looked a mess, sweaty and flushed and very obviously coming off some sort of physical exertion. Hopefully, Duncan was already in the shower and wouldn’t see him.

He could hear the water running when he opened the door to the men’s locker room, and a bit of the tension eased out of his shoulders at the sound. His locker was closed, but his keys were on the counter by the sink, so he opened it up and grabbed a fresh set of clothes to drop on the bench for afterward. He detoured to the supply closet for a pair of chef’s whites for Duncan, guessing at his size. He hoped Duncan didn’t think it was creepy Beck had checked him out enough to be able to make an educated guess.

A
very
educated guess, thanks to how tight Duncan wore his jeans and T-shirts.

Beck sighed and ran a hand through his sweaty hair, pushing it back from his face. He had to get through the next few weeks, and then he didn’t need to have any professional contact with Duncan. He could go back to the way his life had been before a two-minute fight with Duncan had turned it upside down. He’d have time for the gym again, and probably even a few hours a week to spare for recipe writing. That would have been enough a few weeks ago, but now it felt empty. He’d rather spend that time bantering with Duncan, writing recipes with Duncan while leaning over his shoulder and criticizing every addition.

“Was that you coming in, Beck?” Duncan called from the showers.

Beck shook off his uncharacteristic introspection and tossed the chef’s whites on the bench next to his own change of clothes.

“Yeah, I put something for you to wear on the bench out here.” A thought struck him, and he flushed. “No underwear or socks, though. Sorry. The studio isn’t quite that thorough.”

Duncan’s reply had Beck stumbling as he eased his way out of his trousers. “Eh, who says I was wearing any to start with?”

Christ. That was not a mental picture Beck needed.

He stripped out of the rest of his clothes without further incident and grabbed a towel. He’d have to make do with the floral soap since he wasn’t about to ask Duncan to pass him his soap through the curtain.

The shower room steamed, billows clouding the small space that held three shower stalls, all separated by curtains that didn’t quite reach the floor. Duncan’s bare feet made Beck’s heart skip a beat. He shouldn’t be turned on by something as innocuous as
feet
, for God’s sake. It was like being fourteen all over again, averting his gaze in the high school locker room after gym class.

Beck had barely started the water before his curtain was yanked back, revealing Duncan wearing nothing but a lascivious grin.

“I’m not misjudging this, am I?” Duncan asked as he crowded into the small stall. Beck shuffled back a few steps until his back touched the cold wall.

Uncertainty flitted through Duncan’s eyes, but he shut the curtain behind him and held Beck’s gaze. “You’re into this, right? Because you’ve been driving me insane all day, and I really want to get my mouth on your dick.”

“I thought you never mixed business with pleasure.”

Duncan grinned and shrugged. “I don’t, but I’m also fond of the adage ‘never say never.’ I’m awash in contradictions. So, what do you say?”

Beck made a strangled noise, his eyes wide as he watched Duncan close the small distance between them. Was this actually happening, or had he fallen on the stairs and this was some coma dream?

Duncan’s hands hovered a few inches away from Beck’s shoulders. “Beck?”

Beck swallowed hard and nodded.

“I’m going to need actual words. Consent is the new sexy and all that,” Duncan said, his tone back to its usual indolent confidence.

Of course Duncan would be his normal irreverent self even during sex.

“Yes,” Beck managed. His throat felt dry, like he’d been running lines all day instead of cooking.

Duncan was on him before he’d finished saying the word. Duncan was warm from his shower, and he felt delicious pressed against Beck’s body. Beck had been right about how Duncan would smell after using his body wash and shampoo too. Duncan smelling like him was heady. Beck indulged himself burying his face in Duncan’s neck and taking a long sniff, licking water droplets off the warm, firm skin while he was there.

“Yeah, this is definitely a good idea,” Duncan muttered.

“The best,” Beck answered before he sucked a mark onto Duncan’s neck.

Duncan moaned, tilting his head to the side to give Beck better access. Beck was halfway into another bruise before he realized how stupid that was. They’d both be on camera tomorrow, and the makeup department would give them hell if they showed up with hickeys.

Beck pulled away with a regretful frown, diving in for a kiss when Duncan furrowed his brow at him in question.

“No marks.”

Duncan made a disappointed sound and nipped at Beck’s bottom lip before wiggling away and twining his fingers through the wet hair at the nape of Beck’s neck, urging him down again. “Yes, marks. Duncan likes marks.”

And God, he was even sexy when he was talking about himself in third person. How was that possible?

Duncan’s heavy-lidded look caused Beck to shiver, and his cock twitched eagerly against Duncan’s hip.

“No marks unless you want to be the one to explain to the makeup department why they have to use a metric ton of concealer on you,” Beck said, grinning when Duncan’s eyes shot open in understanding.

“Right. So. No marks where anyone can see,” Duncan said with a nod. He followed it up by ducking his head and licking Beck’s chest, which made Beck stumble and flail against the wall in surprise. Duncan snickered, his fingers snaking their way down Beck’s body until they were cupping his ass, kneading the flesh like dough.

Beck had always enjoyed sex, and he loved giving pleasure as much as he liked receiving it. In his experience, though, sex had been mutually fun but not playful. Easy, but serious…. He should have known it would be different with Duncan.

Duncan approached sex like he approached everything else—full of energy and determined to wring out every last bit of enjoyment he could. His hands were as talented as Beck had imagined they’d be when he’d studied Duncan’s knife skills. He personified animal grace when dancing around the kitchen, and he brought that same rhythm and innate sense of movement to the act of sex.

In short, Duncan was killing him, and they hadn’t really gotten started.

Things like this didn’t happen to Beck. His life was planned out to the nth degree. There wasn’t time for spontaneous sex or one-night stands.

Which begged the question—was that what this was? A bit of stress relief after a long day in the kitchen, coming on the heels of a few weeks of flirting and fighting? Beck wasn’t wired like that, but he was loath to stop Duncan to ask. He was afraid of what the answer might be. Duncan personified freewheeling laissez-faire—hell, he couldn’t even commit to a kitchen and stay on at the same restaurant for more than a few months. He was probably the same way with his relationships.

Could he do this if it was just a lark? Beck bit back an oath when Duncan worked his way back up to Beck’s mouth and started kissing him with renewed vigor. Duncan’s hands were everywhere, and they were amazing.

Yes, was the short answer. There was no way Beck was going to call a halt now. He’d deal with the fallout later, and hope against hope it didn’t affect their on-screen chemistry for the filming tomorrow.

They’d only been at it a few minutes, and Beck was already on the verge of coming. Duncan’s lithe hands were a menace, and his mouth should be declared a goddamn national treasure. He worked Beck over with frightening skill, considering how well he seemed to be able to intuit all of Beck’s favorite spots.