He checked his watch. After getting caught arriving second at lunch, he’d headed out extra early to make sure he showed up first here. All the more time to settle in and decompress. Grif sank into the seat and tipped back the glass. The velvety sip lingered on his tongue even after he swallowed it down.
Couples chatted in the booths all around him, some leaning forward, eyes locked and loaded, while others teetered back with an ease to their conversation suggesting they’d known each other for ages. He already picked out the three underground deals going on, from the quick flash of a gang tattoo on a wrist to the way their hands would brush to their waists where he could guarantee a piece hid.
He’d lifted his glass, ready to take another sip, when his gaze landed on Dan Torres.
The man wore a dark pair of jeans that highlighted muscular thighs and a thick brown belt Grif couldn’t wait to tear off. Dan’s ice-blue button-down accented his slender frame, and with the top buttons undone and the sleeves rolled to his elbows, the brief glimpses of his smooth, tan skin enticed. His thick black hair was slicked back, and as he approached, Grif caught the hint of ginger and lime from his cologne. Dan’s gaze zeroed in on him, interest flashing in that gaze.
“Do you always roll the dice with your dates?” Dan asked, slipping into the seat opposite him. He began to fidget with his sleeves, as if they weren’t already rolled all the way to his elbows. “I never gave you a yes or no—I could’ve no-showed.”
“Instincts,” Grif responded, lifting his glass for another sip of scotch. “You seem a decent sort, the kind of guy who’d follow up. And even if you weren’t, I’m not opposed to grabbing a glass of scotch at my favorite bar solo.”
“Am I that easy to read?” Dan asked, his careful eyebrows drawing together. A grin spread on his lips. “Let’s put your instincts to the test. Order a drink for me.”
The man was fucking adorable, which was a problem. Where at their business meeting he’d been competent and forthright, even in the five seconds they’d been on this date, Grif noticed the shift. This playfulness, the hesitant flirtation hadn’t been there at the meeting, but he enjoyed it like a glass of fifteen-year Glenfiddich.
Grif couldn’t help his grin in return. Kelly strolled over, smoothing the black apron she wore with the black tee and equally color-devoid pants. She gave Dan a cursory scan—he wore a Cartier watch with a black band, no obvious piercings, and not a strand of his hair was out of place.
“What’ll you have?” Kelly asked, leaning against the side of the booth as she glanced to Dan. His date looked to him.
“Would you mind bringing over an Old Fashioned?” Grif asked. Kelly pursed her lips to try and hide her smirk as she nodded and headed off to the bar.
Dan crooked an eyebrow. “What makes you say Old Fashioned?”
“Bourbon’s on the sweeter side, which by the way you massacre your coffee it’s clear you like. You’re careful about your appearance, meticulous, so no time for extravagant or ridiculous ingredients. Besides, the Old Fashioned is a classic with wide appeal.” Grif leaned back, placing his arms on either side of the booth.
“Cheater,” Dan responded, the grin reaching his eyes. “Was your next choice a rum and Coke?”
Grif snorted. “You’ve got way too much class to be a rum and Coke.”
A blush darkened Dan’s cheeks, and he glanced down at his hands clasped in front of him. Heaven and hell, he was the easiest mark to read on the planet—all his expressions brimmed right on the surface. Grif’s stomach twisted with what might have been guilt if he hadn’t divorced his conscience and ignored the alimony years ago.
“Business meetings I can do, but this stuff is way out of my depth,” Dan confessed. “What are the usual date questions? Hobbies? Favorite dinosaur?” He ran a hand through his hair, casting him a helpless look.
A genuine smile stole Grif’s lips before he could help himself. Too damned adorable. “Favorite dinosaur is a new one. I was always a big fan of the allosaurus. I’m not much of a Q and A kind of guy anyway. Relax, this isn’t an audition.”
“You sure?” Dan’s forehead wrinkled. “My dating life has reached prehistoric status, so rusty is putting it mildly.”
Grif shook his head. “Big-time CEO like you? I’d assume you’d be up to your ears in dick, pardon my French.”
Dan’s shoulders relaxed, and amusement gleamed in his dark eyes. “Trouble with one year under your belt at a company like Torres Industries is the learning curve is steep. Shockingly, running a company the right way requires a whole lot of extra legwork.”
Grif’s gaze traveled to the side of the booth where one of Torres’s long legs stretched out. “Looks like it’s paying off.”
Dan shook his head, the grin widening on his lips. “That was pretty bad. Are you always this shameless?”
Grif shrugged, lifting his scotch to his lips. His gaze snagged on Dan’s, and he didn’t look away. “Only if I’m interested.”
Kelly swung by with the Old Fashioned, and Dan tipped the drink back in seconds. He buzzed like he was way more nervous here. Dan’s tongue trailed across his lower lip, and Grif couldn’t help but watch. Dan had a mouth made for smiling, and his smooth lips glistened from the liquid. The man was pure temptation in one slender package.
“Damn, you were on the money,” he responded, swirling his drink around. “This is delicious. Honestly, your directness is one of the things I like the most about you. Most times there’s so much subtle back and forth, and everyone’s too afraid to make a move or a declaration. With how demanding the position’s been, I just don’t have time for that.”
“Neither do I.” Grif ran his tongue behind his teeth as he tapped his foot on the ground. Maybe this had been a trash plan from the start. He’d expected Dan to be a hot-as-fuck lay, but even in their short back and forth here, he found himself liking the guy. He could empathize with the way leadership drained like an IV drip—lives rode on his decisions, some of the few he gave a damn about. And already from their brief conversation, he’d drawn several enlightening conclusions about the man.
“How’d you get stuck in the role?” Grif asked.
Dan’s eyebrows shot up. “Those are some damned good instincts. Did you do a stint as a detective or something?”
Grif’s lips quirked, but he didn’t answer. Working card tables, fighting for money, or years of running cons bubbled to the surface, but one word summed up all those responses: survival.
Dan lifted his hands. “All right, all right. First off, from a business standpoint—we’re doing fine.”
“CEO and prospective left at the business meeting,” Grif reminded him. “Right here, we’re just Greg and Dan, and I’m curious.”
Dan took another swig from his Old Fashioned before he continued, the ice clinking in the glass. “Dad retired, and instead of transferring the position to Vanessa, who’s been working for this role her entire life, he decided to drag his oldest son into the business. He’s old-school, which is code for being a sexist dick. I was finishing up grad studies to go into a mechanical engineering job, just me and the numbers.”
“Instead, you’re stuck babysitting a bunch of old dickheads, from the sounds of it,” Grif responded. He slammed back the rest of his scotch, hoping the liquid would burn away the rusted knife of regret carving a hold in his chest. This guy didn’t deserve to get bled dry, even if the rest of his company made their fortunes at the expense of every Joe, Sally, and Bob.
“Seriously, man, I don’t believe in psychics, but you’re making me question it.” Dan ran his fingers through his hair again. Grif wanted to reach across the table and follow suit, to grip him by the neck and taste the bourbon on those sensual lips. Dan locked eyes with him, curiosity gleaming there. “I’m sitting here complaining though. Tell me more about you.”
“What do you want to know?” Grif asked, his brain running through the Rolodex of Greg Locksley.
“Well, hell,” Dan said, tapping his fingers on the table. The attra
ction between them was a static force in the air, and Dan’s gaze penetrated right through him. “Forget the number of siblings, net worth bullshit. I want to know what makes Greg Locksley tick. What were your dreams as a kid? What do you want out of life?”
Grif’s eyebrows drew together before he could help himself. Window trappings were how he constructed all his aliases, easy character details he could draw upon at any point. However, Dan was a sledgehammer disguised as a too-honest sweetheart who happened to have an ass made for gripping and the type of slim body Grif wanted to bend over and fuck.
He’d learned the old adage early: the best lies drew from truth.
Grif crossed his arms over his chest. “I was a weird kid. No fireman or astronaut for me. I wanted to be a librarian.”
Dan’s jaw dropped. “No, really? That’s so damn adorable.”
Grif’s lips quirked with his half-smile while he tamped the bitterness like espresso grounds. Stupid dreams of a naïve kid who still had both of his parents. Those got buried the same day they did. “As for what I want out of life, I’m never going to be a picket fence kind of guy. I like my freedom. But I’m all for seeking out the next opportunity; anything to put me in a better position to clear out the mess of double dealings in the corporate life.”
The conviction in Dan’s eyes as he nodded got his blood pumping a little harder. Rarely did he find folks who had that look. The ones he’d met, he’d already scooped up and included in his Outlaws.
Scar and J-man were right. He shouldn’t have indulged in the date tonight. Grif tapped the side of his empty glass. He should call it quits now, before this guy managed to scalpel any deeper beneath his surface layers.
“Hey, do you want to get out of here?” Dan asked, his tone dripping with intent. Grif tapped the side of his glass, once, twice, three times. “My condo’s up the street.”
Well now, those were the magic words. His libido thrummed to life again, and he shoved all his obnoxious feelings into the sidecar.
“I’ve got a tab here, so the bill’s already paid,” Grif said, pushing up from the table. “Lead the way.”
Six
Dan’s palms broke into a sweat before they ever left Polished Knives. Greg Locksley stepped inside, and the door to his condo closed with a click. Even here, in Dan’s own home, the man dominated the space. It was like he’d invited the Big Bad Wolf in through his front door.
From the second he’d arrived at the bar to find Greg sprawled in the booth waiting for him, he’d wanted to pinch himself. The summer sky eyes had bored into him with the same predatory intent, and even the way he lounged there couldn’t hide the sheer power brimming with every move.
Dan flipped on the lights and thanked everything holy he’d had the foresight to clean earlier in the week. The soft glow of his overheads revealed his living room, all tan cushions on the couches and patterned stone half-walls. He didn’t miss how Greg’s gaze drifted to the black-and-chrome staircase leading to his bedroom. Not like what they both had on their minds was any secret.
Greg shrugged off his fitted leather jacket and slung it over his shoulder in a liquid move. Dan’s tongue slipped out to trace his lips before he could help himself. In a thin white T-shirt, the man was carved from enough muscle to make him salivate, and the dim lights of his apartment emphasized the wicked curve of his eyebrows, the bit of stubble grazing a proud chin, and his aquiline nose.
Dan wasn’t the type to bring guys back home on the first date, but for Greg Locksley, he made an exception. This man was a lightning strike of coiled sexuality and magnetism, and he’d never felt his libido slam into awareness with this freighter force. Besides, despite the conviction that blazed in Greg’s gaze and the blunt way he swung his words around, Dan sensed a savagery to him as difficult to contain as a wildfire.
If he didn’t indulge in this now and missed the chance, passing on a night with Greg Locksley was something he’d regret.
Dan reached out to grab the jacket from him and strode with it to his coat closet. He tried to ignore the rich scent of the leather and how he could feel this man’s presence suffuse through every inch of his condo, even with his back turned to him.
The door clicked shut, the sound echoing in the intense quiet that descended between them like the hazy, loaded moments before a storm.
“So, I guess this is the point where I offer you a drink,” Dan said when he turned around.
Greg loomed, his shadow falling across him as the man stood mere inches away. A feral grin curled his lips. “I’ll take you up on the offer,” he murmured, sensuality dripping from his lips.
Dan’s brow creased as he digested the words. Not like he got the chance to think for long. Greg closed the inches between them with one step forward, then another. Dan moved on instinct, his back thumping against the wall. Greg’s arm shot out beside his head, the look in his ice-blue eyes pure wolf.
This wild man pinned Dan against the wall, and he couldn’t think of a time his body had last soared with a thrill like this. His cock stiffened from the masculine scent of him, the contained strength of his surrounding muscles, and the gorgeous features that held him spellbound. Dan’s mouth dropped open in response, his breaths coming out in short pants.
“Last chance to duck and run, Torres,” Greg murmured, his words low and hoarse, like he fought to rope down a twister. “Because I’ve been wanting to wreck you from the moment I saw your hot-as-sin face.”
Fuck, this guy turned him upside down. “Bring it.”
Greg’s sensuous mouth curled into a cocky grin, and he leaned forward.
Greg Locksley’s kiss wasn’t anything as tame as “thrilling.” His kiss was the walk up to the cliffs as the sea churned foamy crests below; one step off the edge of such soaring heights guaranteeing destruction. Greg’s fingers wove through Dan’s hair, and he gripped his nape tight. As he sank his lips over his, he didn’t just possess, he devoured. A sinful shudder rolled down Dan’s back as he let the sensations glide through him.
He reached out, his fingers trailing over the flimsy fabric of Greg’s T-shirt, and he slipped them beneath the hem. When his fingertips touched the scorching heat of that muscled chest, he almost drew them away, as if burned. Greg’s lips met his again and again, his tongue slipping in to stroke with a force that left him breathless. Dan settled his hand around the slim black belt looped through Greg’s jeans.
Greg closed the space between them, and Dan’s back pressed against the cool wall. Those big thighs surrounded him on either side, and as Greg settled around him, the firm length in his jeans brushed against his thigh. Dan’s erection throbbed at the contact, and he sank deeper into the kiss. His fingers fumbled as he flicked open the latch on Greg’s belt. His cologne formed a heady musk combined with the lingering scent of leather, dizzying his mind almost as much as the rough kisses.
Greg’s stubble scraped against his chin, his tongue entering his mouth with thrusts that made him weak in the knees. He bit Greg’s lower lip, desperate to feel, to taste, to touch. Precum beaded on the tip of Dan’s cock at the way this man descended to claim control, as effortlessly smooth as a sword wielded by a master. Greg tugged at his hair, and a shiver trickled through him at the possessive hold. Everything about being pinned against the wall by this massive, muscled man turned him on in ways he hadn’t thought possible.
Dan undid the buttons on Greg’s jeans, and he followed with the zipper, the snick audible between their harsh, ragged breaths. Greg’s mouth proved an insatiable distraction. His lips brushed against Dan’s neck, biting and sucking the sensitive skin. Dan’s cock throbbed, and in the haze, he couldn’t focus on anything beyond getting the guy’s jeans off.
He shoved the fabric down, bringing the waistband of Greg’s CKs and jeans to his knees in one go. His hand glided over Greg’s cock, which was thick and long enough that Dan couldn’t help his moan.
“See something you like?” Greg murmured against his mouth, and he pressed his palm over Dan’s to glide h
is hand up and down his erection, once, twice. The smooth feel of the velvet skin against his palm caused hunger to coil tighter inside him.
“Very much,” Dan responded, his voice a throaty, foreign thing. He slipped out of Greg’s grip and lowered to the ground. He wanted to breach the defensive walls this gorgeous man hid behind, to sneak past the gates. Dan already spun undone from the mere whisper of what Greg had offered.
His knees hit the oak floor, and he hadn’t even leaned forward before Greg’s fingers wove through his hair. All the time and effort he spent on his appearance, trying to fit into this posh and polished world he’d never planned on entering, and this man dropped in, cracking him wide open the moment they met. Greg’s grip tightened on his hair, the dose of pleasure-pain shooting straight to his toes.
Dan reached out to trail his palm along those smooth, thick thighs, all muscle and light blond hair. The bumps and knots of scars marked them the whole way down. He leaned forward, bracing his other hand on his thigh as he licked the tip of Greg’s dick. The salty taste of his precum spread across his tongue, and the musky scent of his cock had Dan’s own aching.
He wrapped his lips around Greg’s erection before he took the whole length in his mouth. The man let out a guttural grunt, and his thighs tensed. Greg rocked his hips forward, and together, they found a rhythm that he lost himself in. Dan stroked his tongue along the base of Greg’s cock, unable to help the way his throat tightened. This man made him so hot, skin flushed and his mind spinning in a delirious whirl. If the guy even stroked his length, he was liable to explode on the spot.
Greg rocked into him with enough power to his thrusts that the tip of his cock hit the back of his throat. Dan took all of him in, fueled by a hunger that had been growing ever since they’d met. He’d been in long-term relationships with guys and never learned their bodies the way he instinctively understood Greg’s. His thighs squeezed tight, and Dan sucked harder. He needed to bring him over the edge.
Midnight Heist (Outlaws Book 1) Page 4
