by May Archer
Cam nodded. He knew it. Mostly. Maybe he’d have been the one to notice the pilot had been drinking. Maybe he would have been the only one who wasn’t too consumed with the excitement of the engagement and the party to recognize something was wrong.
“I mean it, Cam. Grief fucks us all up. Makes us think crazy things we know aren’t logical. Don’t play those games. Nobody on that plane would have wanted it for you.”
Cam cast his eyes to the ceiling and nodded. That much he knew for certain. His parents would have been glad he wasn’t there, that he and Bas had lived.
“And that’s why you took over the company?” Cort asked gently.
Cam glanced at him. “The company was supposed to be Sebastian’s baby. He’s the computer genius, you know? My dad had been grooming him to take over for years. But losing Amy on top of our parents put Bas in a really bad place.” He licked his lips and confided, “He’s holed up inside his house. He tried to hack the NTSB, for God only knows what reason, and it’s like he doesn’t care if he gets thrown in jail by the FBI. I’m scared for him.”
Cort winced and sat back in his seat, looking uncomfortable. “Damn. And you always step in to take care of him?”
Cam shrugged. “He’s my brother. Of course I do. I always will. But as far as the company goes, it was time for me to take on more responsibility, anyway.”
“From what you’ve told me, that sounds like something that would have come out of your ex’s mouth,” Cort said with a wink. He motioned the bartender to refill their glasses.
Cam snorted at how quickly Cort had figured Drew out. It probably was something Drew had said, if not in those exact words.
“But now you’re all grown up, and you’re the president of Seaver Tech. That’s gotta be stressful.” The words were a tease, but the look in Cort’s eyes and the way he laid a hand on Cam’s thigh, turning him on the stool so they were facing each other fully, made heat surge through Cam’s gut. “How do you blow off steam?”
Cam raised an eyebrow at the deliberate flirtation. Was he trying to distract Cam now that things had become too heavy?
Did Cam care?
His dick certainly didn’t.
“I run,” Cam said blandly, resting his elbow on the bar. “Half marathons. I log probably thirty miles a week.”
Cort’s answering smile was genuine. “No shit?”
“Nope. And I play video games.”
The way Cort’s smile widened was more arousing than the hand currently caressing Cam’s leg. “Yeah, you mentioned that. Sometimes with one eye closed.” He laughed. “Which games?”
“Uh, League of Legends, a couple of first person shooters. And I’m developing a game with our software team based on a series of YA fantasy novels, which… Well.” Cam shrugged and braced himself for ridicule, for more of the “Grow up, Cam,” he’d always gotten from Drew.
Cort grinned in the lopsided way Cam was already starting to find familiar - way too familiar for an acquaintance that could only be measured in hours. “So, what you’re telling me is, you shoot people for fun? That’s kinda badass.”
Cam burst into laughter. Badass? He’d been called that exactly never, but he kinda liked it - and liked it even more because everything about Cort said his flirtatious teasing hid genuine interest. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good, or done something for himself like this. Cort didn’t want to talk about Seaver, didn’t seem to care about his job or his bank account, didn’t want Cam to put on some kind of fake persona. He couldn’t believe someone like Cort could be into him in this way.
“Yep. That’s me. Totally badass and dangerous. I like to shoot stuff online for fun, and I can run far, far away very quickly.”
Cort nodded with mock-seriousness. “Duly warned.”
“What about you?” Cam asked, leaning his elbow against the bar.
“What about me?” Cort returned. His eyes turned a shade more guarded, and despite the way the alcohol and the man were making his brain buzz, Cam read that as a flashing sign saying, “Proceed with Caution.” Cort didn’t want to talk about himself, didn’t feel the desire to share the way Cam did.
So fine. Okay. Strangers at a bar don’t have expectations. Keep it casual.
Cam leaned in closer to Cort’s heat, loving the way Cort’s body responded, the sharp exhalation of breath that warmed Cam’s cheek.
“What do you do to blow off steam?” he asked. Seduction and flirtation were not his forte, but tonight he felt bold.
“Sometimes I like to just scream.”
Cam snickered. “What?” He’d expected to hear… well, something more violent maybe? Something more befitting the man’s heavy muscles and the way he’d tensed at a perceived threat. Cort’s entire demeanor blared “man of action.” But his face held the same sincerity as before, and maybe just a trace of vulnerability.
“True story. I just go someplace alone and let out all the anger, all the frustration, all the shit I’ve dealt with all day. You should try it sometime. You know, if the shooting thing doesn’t work.”
Cam shook his head, amused and charmed. He gave a pointed glance around the room. “Pretty sure it wouldn’t go over too well around here.”
Cort grinned. “True. It’s harder to find places in the city. Especially in exclusive hotels.” His grin turned cagey. “But not impossible, if you know where to look.”
Cam’s eyes widened. “You want us,” he gestured between them, his hand brushing the hard wall of Cort’s chest in a way that made his own thoughts blank momentarily. “To scream? Inside this hotel? Is the ensuing arrest all part of the fun?”
Cort laughed.
The sound was so potent and rich that if it could be distilled into liquor, Cam would happily have drowned himself in it.
When his laughter subsided, he looked at Cam with affection no less potent than the laughter. If he wanted Cam to scream right here, right now, he’d do it and damn the consequences. But instead, he stood up and held out his hand. “Come with me?”
It was not a demand or an expectation, but an offering. Cam was vividly aware he knew nothing about Cort - the Jameson hadn’t dulled his thoughts to the point where he could forget it. Everyone wanted a piece of him - his money, his influence, his name on a fucking computer program, and maybe Cort was no exception.
But for years, everything in Cam’s world had required cold logic, scrupulous planning, and straight paths. Somehow this man, this stranger, glowed like a beacon, hot and bright, and Cam, who had never done a dangerous thing in his life as far as he could recall, had finally found someone who wanted something from him that he wanted to give. He hopped off his stool and set his hand in Cort’s larger one.
“Let’s go.”
Chapter Five
The Jameson has gone to your head, Cortland.
Not that they’d had all that much, and what they had drunk seemed to mostly burn away when their conversation - the longest and weirdest and coolest conversation of Cort’s life - had turned to the crash. But what other explanation could there be for Cort suddenly finding himself in an elevator standing oh-so-close to Cam Seaver - the younger brother of a man Cort despised, and exactly the kind of entitled, rich-kid asshole Cort had always hated?
Except Cam wasn’t like that at all.
Cort had come here tonight with only one item on his agenda - to find Cam Seaver and do some firsthand reconnaissance. All the evidence suggested that to find Damon, Cort needed to score himself an invitation to the Tyndalls’ gala on St. Brigitte. But without his FBI connections or any social pedigree of his own, it meant cozying up to someone with an invite, or possibly blackmailing them. Using the very assholes who’d stolen Damon’s life from him had seemed like poetic justice, and Cam Seaver was by all accounts the weaker link. So, he’d put together a folder on Cam with everything from Cam’s impressive SAT scores to the kind of car he drove, but he’d known he’d need a lot more information than that. Tonight’s goal had been to figure out what made the y
ounger Seaver tick - what his strengths and weaknesses were.
Liking the guy - genuinely, down-deep, liking him – had not been part of the plan.
He’d been staring at Cam’s picture for the past few weeks, but weirdly enough, Cort hadn’t immediately recognized the man when he stepped into the ballroom. Maybe it was because the picture was a couple of years out of date, or maybe it was because Cort had been looking for Sebastian Seaver’s kid brother - a short kid with dark hair and freckles.
What Cort had found, when a busty blonde near the door had been helpful enough to point him in the right direction, was definitely not a kid. Cam was all man, and gorgeous to boot.
His jaw was sharp as a knife, and the cleft in his chin was completely lickable - not a word Cort had ever applied to another man before. His eyes were pale enough to be noticeable from across the room, and his lips. Holy hell. Plump and wide, like a wet dream come to life. Yeah, Cam wasn’t built like most of the guys Cort had dated, but there was strength in the line of his shoulders and the column of his back. At the bar, Cam had said he was a runner, and Cort could totally see it in the fluid movement of Cam’s body and the way his pants hugged the contours of his ass. He’d never felt such an instantaneous attraction before, nor such a fucking inconvenient one.
Cort glanced at the man beside him as the elevator hit the roof deck. It appeared nobody else had the crazy idea to hang out on the roof this late at night since they had the elevator to themselves. Cam’s visible tension was amusing and fascinating and arousing as hell, like everything Cort had learned about the man from the moment they’d sat at the bar, when Cam had engaged one of the cleaning staff in a long and cheerful conversation about her family back in Honduras in fluent Spanish. He’d quickly realized the Cam Seaver on paper couldn’t hold a candle to the complex, fascinating man himself.
The doors opened, and Cort ushered Cam forward, placing his hand on the small of his back. Cam shivered at the contact, and Cort felt the same current flow through him. His dick thickened beneath the outrageously expensive suit he’d bought just for tonight, fast and painful enough to remind him how completely off-the-rails this evening had gotten.
He hadn’t thought of Sebastian Seaver at all tonight, except when Cam was talking about his parents’ deaths, and even then Cort hadn’t felt the same burning anger, the same driving need to clear Damon’s name that he usually felt when he thought of the crash.
He’d felt Cam’s pain, confusion, and anger instead, every emotion clearly broadcast on the man’s beautiful face.
So even though the trained investigator in him wanted to capitalize on the trust he’d established, to push for more information he could use later, Cort couldn’t bring himself to do it. Some other part of himself, a part he barely recognized, compelled him to offer Cam something genuine, instead.
They walked through the small elevator lobby, then Cort scanned his hotel keycard and pushed open the doors to the outdoor pool deck. Though the air was cooler than it had been earlier in the day, it clung to his skin, heavy and damp, like the precursor to a thunderstorm. Even the street noise below was nothing but a distant hum, nearly drowned out by the soft gurgle of the water lapping against the edges of the pool. They were cocooned in their own little bubble. It was eerie but beautiful.
“Watch your step,” Cort warned, as he propelled Cam towards the far side of the deck, near the high glass enclosure which provided a stunning view of the city. They looked out over the lights silently for a moment. Cam drew a little closer.
What the hell am I doing here?
But when Cam finally turned to him, those light blue eyes of his wide and anxious, and voiced the same question, “What are we doing, Cort?,” Cort didn’t make excuses, and he didn’t turn to leave. Instead, he slipped off his own suit jacket and kicked off his shoes, setting them on one of the nearby lounge chairs, along with the hated FBI-issue smart phone from his pocket.
“Undress,” he told Cam, whose gaze had focused on Cort’s discarded belongings, as though he wasn’t sure where to look.
Cam blinked at him, then looked around the empty space. “Undress. What, here?”
“Yeah, right here. Right now. You can leave the boxer-briefs if you want. I’ve been dying to see them anyway.” He winked.
Cam shook his head like he couldn’t believe this was happening, but fuck if he didn’t start stripping. He began unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes focused on Cort the entire time, and when the shirt sleeve slipped off his shoulder, revealing his skin-tight t-shirt and tanned, toned arms, Cort stopped breathing for a moment. Would Cam show him the same trust if he knew who Cort really was?
God, tonight would go down in history as the stupidest decision Cort had ever made, but he didn’t care. He’d never wanted anyone or anything the way he wanted Cam Seaver. So, they’d have tonight, maybe. Just a few hours, until sanity was restored and he remembered all the reasons why he shouldn’t like Cam as much as he did.
Then Cam took off his shirt, and once again, all rational thought fled Cort’s mind. Cam glowed in the golden light, all sleek, smooth skin and firm, barely-defined muscles.
The man was gorgeous.
The nicely cut suit jacket and ass-hugging pants had given the impression of lean strength inside the crowded ballroom, but it was nothing to the way Cam looked in the ambient light: lean, golden, and gorgeous. Cort’s mouth went dry. He quickly shucked his own shirt, socks, and pants, then crossed the short distance between them.
“Take them off,” he said, hooking a thumb in the waistband of Cam’s pants. His voice was thick with arousal, and he knew Cam heard it when he shuddered despite the warm air.
But Cam backed up a pace. “Tell me what’s happening here first.” Any effect from the Jameson had burned off long ago, and Cam was clearly back in control. For now.
Cort rolled his eyes and took a step forward. “We’re stripping down next to a pool. I figured it was pretty obvious, badass. We’re getting in the water.”
Cam looked from Cort, to the water, and back again. Then he licked his full lips. “What if I don’t want to?”
It gave Cort pause for thought. He had zero interest in forcing the guy into the water if he were genuinely afraid or didn’t know how to swim, but… “You said you were a lifeguard,” Cort remembered.
Cam raised one eyebrow. “Yes, I was. Swim team, too.”
Ah. So not fear, then, but a challenge. Cort’s pulse kicked up. “Then get in the pool, badass.”
“I suppose you could make me.” Cam licked his lips once again, a slow and deliberate stroke Cort could feel in his dick. “You’re taller than me. Stronger, too.”
“I could,” Cort agreed. He stepped close enough for their chests to almost touch, and Cam’s eyes flared with heat. This teasing - the war of words, and wills, and barely-there touches was torture of the particular variety Cort liked, and he loved that Cam seemed to like it too. “I could pick you up right now, push you against the wall, and make you do whatever I wanted. Whatever the hell I wanted, Cam, and I could make you like it.”
Cam’s breathing was erratic. “Then do it,” he demanded.
Cort pursed his lips. He was tempted, fuck, he was so damn tempted. But something told him if he won the easy way, it wouldn’t really be a win at all. So he shook his head slowly. “Not right now. Tonight, I want you to choose to do it. Do it because I asked you. Do it because I want you to, and because you want to please me.”
Cam closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, bringing his chest in line with Cort’s, then he opened his eyes and unzipped his pants, letting the expensive fabric pool on the concrete decking. His dick was already semi-hard and pushing at the red cotton of his underwear. Cort nearly groaned at the sight.
Cam’s eyes flew open. “So now what?” he asked.
The heat in Cam’s eyes was blinding, his jaw locked defiantly, but Cort had been trained to see beyond the obvious, and right now he could see the tension in the other man’s face, in the twitch of those l
ips he couldn’t wait to kiss.
Cam effortlessly conjured emotions in Cort - strange and awesome and totally unwelcome. Cort wanted to protect him and support him and—
Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to go down this way. He wasn’t supposed to admire or respect Cam Seaver. He was the enemy, wasn’t he? Or at the very least, a tool to be used to help Damon? Cam wasn’t the only one outside of his comfort zone, and Cort wondered if he could handle it as well as Cam seemed to.
“What do you want?” Cort whispered.
Cam swallowed hard, like he was gathering courage, then leaned forward, pressing himself against Cort. “I… I want you to show me how you blow off steam. It’s why you brought me up here, right?”
Cort smiled. God, the man managed to surprise him at every turn. The feeling of Cam’s hot skin against his own was mind-blowing, and his body was absolutely primed to take Cam right here and now. But for some reason, his mind balked at the idea of Cam becoming just another in a line of hard, fast, nearly-anonymous fucks. He wanted to prove something to Cam, and maybe to himself, and to do it, he needed to regain just a little of his control.
So, even though his body was screaming for him to bend his head just slightly, to cup his hand around Cam’s hard jaw, he didn’t. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Cam’s waist and lifted him, ignoring the man’s shocked gasp, then carried him the few steps to the edge of the pool.
“Remember you asked for it, badass,” he told Cam, and then he jumped, sending them both crashing into the warm, clear water.
Cort kept his hands wrapped around Cam until they hit bottom, then released him as they both bobbed to the surface a few feet apart and sucked in air.
“You. Asshole!” Cam sputtered, pissed off and gorgeous. Water droplets clung to his cheeks and spiked his hair, making him look like a startled kitten. Cort laughed harder than he had in months.
A large splash of water caught him full in the face, choking him. “Oh, badass is taking his revenge!” he gasped, still laughing as another burst of water hit him. “Better watch out.”
