“Did you ever tell anyone why you joined the FBI?” I murmur into his thick, dark hair. I inhale, filling my nostrils with his scent, wishing I could crawl inside him and take the pain away.
Mitch pulls back. “No. No one even knew I was gay. Only one person found out and it ended up being why I quit the bureau.”
Mitch
I feel Gavin tense up at my words. I’m torn. I want to tell him, to tell someone, to rip down the last barrier separating me from happiness.
Gavin sits quietly, waiting patiently for me to decide. His eyes are kind, accepting, but pained. For me. Not pity, but empathy reflecting in the blue depths.
“My partner,” I whisper. “Grant.” My heart is racing and my palms feel sweaty. I stand up and pull on briefs and T-shirt. “I need a drink for this story. You want one?”
“Sure.” Gavin follows me to the common area, grabbing his own briefs on the way. “Sit,” he commands from the stocked bar.
I drop onto the nearest couch and he hands me a glass with ice and clear liquid. “What is this?”
“Gin and tonic.”
The cold liquid hits my tongue, burning a path down my throat. Gavin waits for me to finish it before taking my glass. “More?”
I shake my head. “No. I still have to work tonight at the event.”
He looks as if he bit a lemon. “Right.” Gavin places the glass on the table. “Grant?” he prods.
My stomach twists and turns, the nausea intense as my nerves light up like a Christmas tree.
“He was partner at the bureau—another profiler. A seasoned one. One of the best, in fact. They put us together so I could learn from him.” I laugh, but nothing is funny. “What I didn’t know was that he had me profiled from the minute we met.”
“What do you mean?”
I turn and lock eyes with Gavin. “He knew I was gay. I didn’t even have to say a thing.”
“That’s good, right? So you didn’t have to tell him,” Gavin says.
“No. He never told me he knew and I never said anything.”
“What? Why?” Gavin’s forehead crumples up in confusion.
“Because he screwed with my head for six years. He flirted with me all the time, but never obvious enough for me to think he was interested. He would do things when we were on a case, staying in hotels together across the country. Like masturbate loudly from the bathroom, knowing I could hear him.”
“That’s sick,” Gavin snarls.
“Is it more sick that I let him do it for six years? I… I thought I was in love with him. But to him, it was all a game. I didn’t know what he was doing.” My face heats up with humiliation.
“I’m sorry, Mitch.”
“I should have known. I was…I am a brilliant profiler, but I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.” I drop my head into my hands, unable to meet Gavin’s gaze.
“Hey.” Gavin reaches over and pulls my chin up until our eyes meet again. “It’s not your fault, and I’m not judging you. People can be cruel.”
Gavin lets go and sits back, placing a comforting hand on my leg. That beautiful face pulls into a menacing scowl. “So, how did you find out what an twisted fuck he was?”
My eye starts to twitch and I feel the noose around my neck tighten. It squeezes, forcing me to consciously repress my gag reflex. I pluck at the loose collar of my shirt uselessly.
“Mitch, stop.” Gavin gets up and straddles my lap. I let my head drop back, staring up into those bright blue eyes. He lowers his mouth to mine and a wave of serenity washes over me, taking with it the anxiety. I grab his waist and kiss him back, accepting the comfort he’s offering.
We break apart when air becomes a necessity, but Gavin keeps his face close, brushing his nose alongside mine. “You don’t have to tell me, Mitch,” he whispers against my lips.
“I do. I need to get rid of it. It’s been tainting me for so long. He’s all I knew for years. I didn’t even date. Six years, Gavin. Alone. It’s been…” I choke up. “It’s been difficult. But now,” I put a hand behind his neck, keeping him close. “Now I have you and I don’t want my past ruining it.”
Gavin nods almost imperceptibly.
“He came into the office the day after we broke a huge case. We were together day and night for weeks working on it. Grant tortured me more in that small period of time than all the years before it combined. I honestly thought he was beginning to have feelings for me.”
I close my eyes and swallow thickly.
“It was all a game. He was playing me, ramping up the innuendo, the looks, the flirting, just to destroy me with one jab of his knife.” I lick my lips and open my eyes. “He announced his engagement in front of a group of coworkers, staring at me arrogantly as he did it.”
“He what?” Gavin sits back, outraged.
“I didn’t even know he was dating someone. He never told me. Apparently, I knew nothing about the man. I was so hurt, so betrayed, I went home, got shitfaced drunk, and called him. Grant came over and I confronted him about everything, thinking I could convince him to break off his engagement if he knew how I felt about him.”
Gavin tenses under my hands.
“I kissed him and he punched me, choking me with my tie until I nearly passed out. His attack surprised me so much that I didn’t get a single hit in. He called me a bunch of slurs, stomped all over my heart, and left me lying on the floor of my condo, gasping for air. I resigned the following week without ever facing him again.”
“Mitch—”
“It’s over, Gavin. I was never in love with him. I know that now.”
“You sure?” he rasps.
I bring him in for another kiss. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
Gavin
What used to be the worst part about this tour is now the best. When I hold Mitch’s hand at events, I’m no longer pretending. When I give him a kiss for the cameras, it’s real. When we go back to our suite at night, we tear each other’s clothes off and go at it like animals.
I glance offstage during a concert in Dallas, looking for Mitch in his usual spot. Unable to find him, I check the other side of the stage. He’s nowhere to be seen. Dax gives me an indecipherable look when I flub a few notes.
Shit.
As hard as it is to do, I can’t let myself worry about Mitch when I’m performing. He’s a grown man and can take care of himself.
Forcing the unsettled feeling out of my head, I focus on the music. The crowd is an undulating mass in the dark arena, difficult to see with the bright lights aimed at the stage nearly blinding me. The fans sing with us as Adam runs along the edge of the stage, working his magic on the masses. There’s not a feeling in the world that can compare to the rush of a live performance.
By the time we’re done, I’m sweaty and elated. Someone hands me a bottle of water. I scowl in irritation. Mitch is always waiting with water for me.
“Where’s Mitch?” I ask the girl.
She shrugs, unable to provide an answer. I drink until the bottle is empty and follow the rest of the band down the hall to the private rooms. Adam and Dax are pushing and shoving each other, laughing and acting like idiots as usual. I head for my own dressing room, eager to see if Mitch is there, but Ross stops me before I reach the door.
“Wait,” he says, holding up a hand. Ross’ eyes are troubled, his posture tense. His normally perfect appearance is marred by sweat on his brow and a loosened tie at his neck. The man is as pale as a sheet.
My stomach clenches in fear. “What’s going on, Ross?” I lean to the side to glance around him and see a uniformed officer exit my dressing room. “Where’s Mitch?” My voice rises as my heartbeat accelerates.
Ross is so shook up he can barely speak. “H-he’s fine. He’s in the room. Y-you don’t need to go in there, Gavin. We can wait—”
“Fuck that.” I shove past a babbling Ross, intent on seeing Mitch with my own eyes.
A concert venue security guard blocks the door, probably waiting for the police to arr
ive. “Sorry. This is a crime scene. You can’t go in.”
“The hell I can’t! That’s my room. I’m the fucking victim!” My agitation level is through the roof. “You can’t keep me out!”
“Sir, I can and I will,” he growls, putting a hand on my shoulder.
Acting on instinct, my hand darts out and sinks into the soft tissue at the man’s wrist, pressing between muscles and bones and tendons to the delicate nerves beneath.
“Jesus Christ! Fuck!” The large man falls to his knees, trying to dislodge my ironclad grip with his free hand.
“Gavin!” Mitch comes to the doorway, eyes wide as he takes in the downed guard and my frantic state. He skirts around the howling man, putting his hands over mine. “Let go,” he murmurs.
“Holy fuck, Utah! You’re okay?” I manage to choke out.
“Yes. Now let the man go.”
I release the guard who cries with relief. Mitch hustles me away, into Hawke’s dressing room next to mine and shutting the door behind us.
“What’s going on?” Hawke emerges from the bathroom, already showered and changed to head out. He rubs a towel over his wet hair before tossing it back into the bathroom behind him.
Mitch glances over at Hawke, then back at me.
“Mitch?” I ask.
He sighs. “Another note.”
I shudder. “Just a note?”
Hawke comes closer, concern written on his face. His multi-colored eyes dart down to my hand, which I have shoved into my pocket, fingering the smooth stone nervously.
Mitch’s skin goes white. “No. There’s a… gift as well.”
“That’s good, right?” Hawke interjects. “You said you wanted him to make a move.”
“Yes and no. We want the guy to take risks, and to catch him he needs to get close.” Mitch says this so calmly I want to scream, as if luring in a sociopath is a good idea. “But the idea that he got past all of this security to get backstage is very… upsetting.”
It’s then I see that Mitch isn’t as calm as he appears. Like Ross, beads of sweat dot his temples and he has that same unsettled look. A slight twitch in one of his eyes let’s me know that Mitch is holding in a lot of anxiety.
What is it about this one that got to him?
I swallow down my fear, letting it churn inside my stomach until the burning sensation quells. “W-what now?”
Mitch grabs my arm, leading me out of Hawke’s dressing room. “Now, we get out of here.”
***
“Why don’t you go lie down?” Mitch watches me warily, concern etched into every handsome feature of his face.
Exhausted but antsy, I continue pacing the suite. “I can’t. This guy, he’s eventually going to hurt one of us, isn’t he?”
“Gavin, no. I’m not going to let that happen. Please, let me worry about it. Let the police do their thing.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “The police,” I mutter.
Two officers just left the suite and despite Mitch’s attempts to keep me in the dark, I found out exactly what was left for me in my dressing room. When I heard what it was I threw up until everything in my stomach was gone and then continued dry heaving for another fifteen minutes.
My fingers rub across the smooth surface of my stone, turning it over in my pocket, praying it will help bring me some sort of peace. No such luck.
“Come here.” Mitch holds out a hand, urging me to join him on the sofa. “Everything’s going—”
“Mitch, don’t you dare fucking tell me it’s going to be all right!” I snap.
He holds his hands up in defeat. “I’m not—”
“That sick fuck had photos of you! Of us! Private photos, Mitch!” I turn on my heel and continue pacing, squeezing the stone tightly in my palm. “What he left…” A sob wrenches its way free.
“I understand.”
“You don’t fucking understand how I feel! This might be a day’s work for you, Mitch, but having someone I care about targeted by a sick…” I inhale sharply, the pain like a knife between my ribs. “He scratched out your face and the…the… Mitch, I can’t.” My voice cracks, my battered heart ready to rip out of my chest.
Strong arms wrap around me and I’m pressed against a warm body. I accept the comfort willingly, sagging into Mitch.
“Come on. Let’s go to bed. It’s late.”
I nod into his shirt and breathe in deep, letting his familiar scent calm the pulse that’s hammering behind my ears. In his embrace I feel safe, despite the terror gnawing at the edges of my mind. Without Mitch, there’s no way I could get through this.
Mitch leads me into the bathroom, slowly removing each piece of clothing until I’m naked. He sheds his own clothes and turns on the shower. Once it’s ready, Mitch pulls me under the spray, gathering me in his arms. It’s not sexual at all. His actions are caring and tender and… if I let my thoughts go there, I’d say loving.
Mitch soaps up his hands and gently washes every part of my body. He massages my scalp with strong fingers until my muscles go limp then thoroughly rinses the shampoo from my hair. After he does the same for himself, I pull him to me and lick the droplets of water from his soft lips. I raise my hand and brush my thumb across the roughness of his throat.
“Mitch—” My heart is beating so fast it feels as if it might break right out of my chest. The feelings coursing through me are scary, and so powerful they’re nearly overwhelming. I don’t want to screw this up, ruin what we have, but I need him. I need more. “I want… I mean, I was wondering if you’d…” Those clear, grey eyes lock onto mine, the mirrored emotions in them giving me the strength to follow through. “I need you, Mitch. Will you fuck me?”
I hear Mitch’s breath hitch, and the pupils of his eyes dilate as I watch. His huge cock twitches against my hip.
“It’s a lot to ask, I know. If you’re not ready—”
Mitch takes my face in his hands and kisses me passionately. “I… I want to, but…” His eyes dart off to the side and color spreads up his neck to his cheeks. Without looking at me, he continues. “I kind of always imagined myself as…” He stops, swallowing loudly.
“As what, Mitch? Tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen. I just need to feel close to you.”
Those steely eyes meet mine, still nervous but suddenly determined. “I want you to fuck me.”
Holy shit. Johnny Utah is a bottom. I think I just died and went to heaven.
Chapter 11
Mitch
“Are you sure?” Gavin asks.
He is clearly excited by the idea of fucking me. The man’s cock turned to granite when I admitted what I wanted, what I’ve been fantasizing about for a decade. But Gavin is worried about me having regrets.
“Yes, I’m sure. It’s how I always picture myself in, ummmm…” Shit this is embarrassing. “I’ve used, you know, toys and stuff before.”
“I understand,” he murmurs, thankfully not making me describe my fantasies in detail or how I’ve used plugs and dildos to get myself off.
Gavin reaches back and turns off the water. He grabs a towel and dries me off before doing the same for himself. I hesitate when he turns to leave the bathroom, suddenly thrumming with nerves.
“Mitch?” Gavin holds out a hand. It’s his turn to comfort me. He wears the role well, kind, protective, gentle. I never knew that I would want to be taken care of. That it would actually turn me on. “I won’t hurt you.”
My hand shaking, I put it in Gavin’s. “I trust you,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. Whether it’s desire or nerves or plain old stress from everything swirling around us right now I’m not sure. I only know that this feels right.
Gavin nods, leading me into the bedroom. He tugs me close, his mouth covering mine. I open and his tongue thrusts in, hungry and desperate. Gavin pulls back, his blue eyes bright and lust-crazed. “Lay down, gorgeous. I’ll be right back.”
When he leaves the room, I do as he said, shuffling to the center of the large bed. While lying in silence
, waiting for Gavin to return, my anxiety attempts to take over. But when the gorgeous, naked man enters the room and I see his perfect face, flushed with excitement, I know that this is where I belong. Gavin is the one meant for me.
Gavin climbs up onto the bed, crawling over until he’s kneeling between my legs. The urge to reach up and taste him—his tan skin, those addictive piercings in his dark nipples, his thick cock—the visual stimulation nearly overwhelms me. My hands twitch at my sides.
“Stay still,” he commands, a playful look in his eye. He tosses a bottle of lube and a condom onto the bed.
“I want to touch you,” I groan, my hand drifting down to fist my own cock.
“You will,” he teases. “Let me pleasure you first. I’m going to take care of you, Mitch. Make you feel so good.”
My hips jerk at his seductive words. “Jesus, Gavin.”
Large hands wrap around my ankles, slowly sliding up my legs until they bump into my groin. He squeezes my thigh muscles, just hard enough to make my dick jump in anticipation.
“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” I pant.
“I hope not,” he laughs. Then Gavin stretches out over me, covering me with his body, our cocks sliding together.
I gulp. “Shit. You feel so good.”
“Just wait. It gets so much better,” he mumbles. Gavin drops his mouth to mine, nipping at my lips before giving me a deep, languid kiss. Our tongues tangle, swiping inside each other’s mouths, going deeper with each pass. His piercings brush across my chest, stimulating my own nipples. When he pulls back, I moan in frustration.
“Patience.” Gavin lowers his head to my neck, biting and licking a searing path down to my chest. “Gorgeous,” he croons as he laves one nipple, bringing it to a tight peak as I squirm beneath him.
“Fuck, Gav. I need more.” My hands wrap around his head, slipping my fingers through his soft hair. Gavin moves to the other side, torturing that nipple as well until both are tingling and red.
“I know,” he whispers against my skin, moving lower to lick a path across my stomach. My abs clench when he nips at the tight band of muscle on the side of my hip.
Resist: Gavin Page 15
