by Gayle, Linda
“We can’t risk it.” The softly lilting voice sank in obvious despair.
“That’s my decision, right?” Now he did touch him, running a hand over the swiftly rising and falling chest, over the thrumming heart. Down the flat belly and farther, to the front of Cam’s jeans. Damn, he felt good. Better than good. “If you don’t want me here, why’re you hard?”
Cam dropped his head as if his gaze wasn’t already masked, and his cheeks blazed, but tellingly, he didn’t move away or try to run past Dylan. Instead, he gripped the edge of the table behind him, his knuckles white. His lips moved as if he would protest, but Dylan stroked him slowly up and down that length, feeling it grow even thicker.
At last, Cam whispered, “Stop. Don’t stop. Oh shit, Dylan, none of this is making any sense.” Then, when Dylan gave his cock a squeeze, he bit his lip. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
Taking no pity on him, Dylan moved closer still, continuing his seduction through the jeans and licking a slow kiss up the side of Cam’s neck. “You think too much,” he murmured into Cam’s ear. He let Gertie’s leash slip through his fingers and put his arms around Cam’s waist. The dog trotted off, and Cam leaned into Dylan’s embrace.
“How can you not hate me?” Cam gritted out.
“I’m stupid that way.”
With a groan that seemed to come from the bottom of Cam’s soul, he hugged Dylan hard, his face pressed into Dylan’s shoulder, his hands all over him as if to assure himself Dylan was okay and in one piece.
An ache grew in the center of Dylan’s chest and spread through his limbs, a bittersweet yearning that only holding Cam harder and tighter seemed to satisfy. It pushed all the anger out of him, leaving his legs wobbly. “You smell good,” he said, his mouth muffled against Cam’s shoulder.
Cam gave a short huff of desperate laughter. “Is that what brought you back? My bath products?”
“Yup. All I really want is your Irish Spring or whatever.”
His fingers dug into Dylan’s back. “I knew it. From the first minute we met, you were only angling to get into my shower and be alone with my soap.”
Dylan chuckled. “The truth is out.”
Beneath the teasing ran an undercurrent of pure relief. They drew back to almost look at each other. Dylan sensed that Cam glanced at him from behind his glasses. They irritated the hell out of him, but he figured Cam would flip if he tried to take them off. At least Cam’s mouth had softened, and his forehead no longer creased with shock and horror. Dylan trailed his fingers over the soft lips now smiling slightly at him, and felt such a rush of…what? All he knew was he had Cam back, and it was good.
Cam’s hands tightened around Dylan’s waist. “Are you sure you’re all right? I was up all night, fretting about you. I didn’t know if I should go back there, check on you. I didn’t dare hope you’d ever want to see me again.”
“Yeah, well, anybody else would know enough to stay away. Lucky for you, I’m a slow learner.”
Cam smiled, and Dylan couldn’t resist running his thumb over his lower lip. God, he wanted to kiss him. Beneath his light caress, the smile faded, and Cam murmured, “I never meant to hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I got that. It’s cool. I had a couple of nightmares, but you know, the past few years have been nothing but a fucking nightmare, so it’s not like it’s something I’m not used to.”
“I…I liked hearing about your life.”
“Same here. It was a good night, up till you freaked out on me.”
“You weren’t supposed to see. No one can…” Cam sucked his lower lip between his teeth. “Dylan, I was thinking… You are human, aren’t you?”
Dylan laughed. What kind of crazy-ass question was that? “Yeah, last I checked. Why?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, it’s just…you’re different from anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Likewise,” he said with a wry grin, which Cam returned. “Look, whatever happened, it don’t matter. Let’s forget about it, yeah? I like you. You like me. We had a good thing going.” He slid his hand down over Cam’s side and hip, then up again, avoiding his cock but feeling his own growing hot and hard again. Man, at this rate, it’d be virtual torture to carry on with the plan he had in mind. “Call me a glutton for punishment, but I’m not ready to let you go just yet.”
A beat of silence passed; then Cam said, “You must have questions.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
The only question Dylan had was When do we fuck? but he knew what Cam meant, and he also, for a fleeting moment, felt like if he asked what the deal was with Cam, he’d tell him. But whether or not the opportunity ever arose again, he made the decision to let it pass. It felt too much like a violation of trust to make him lay himself bare like that.
“I promise,” he said, curling his hand around the back of Cam’s neck, “no questions. Not like that. You keep your secrets.”
Cam’s shoulders sagged. “God above, Dylan, I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“Yeah, they broke the mold when they made me.” He leaned closer, belly to belly, finally pressing his dick against Cam’s and threading his fingers through all that soft black hair. “Okay, I lied. I do have one question.”
Cam gave up sliding his palms over Dylan’s ass cheeks long enough to say, “What?”
“How long do we got before your brother comes home?”
Chapter Eight
“Long enough,” Cam managed to say, though it felt as if all his blood had plunged downward to fill his cock. His head still spun with the realization that Dylan was here, in his home, in his arms. Forgiving him. Wanting him. He coasted his hands down Dylan’s body and over the firm curves of his backside once more. Their bodies fit perfectly together. Dylan could surely tell Cam was nearly out of his mind with wanting. If he touched Dylan’s cock, Cam thought he might lose it completely, so he limited himself to other tempting body parts. Arms, sides, stomach, hips. Ass.
Those demanding lips were inches away from Cam’s when Dylan asked, “How long? An hour, two, three? More?”
“He’ll be back around four or five.”
“Perfect. I have to go to work at four anyhow.”
Even through the lenses of his dark glasses, Cam could see the gleam in Dylan’s eye, and it did amazing things to his insides. “I’ll do…whatever you want.” His breath hitched as Dylan leaned in to coast his lips over the side of his throat once more. How he loved the teasing slide of Dylan’s mouth against his skin, and the warmth radiating from the other man, wrapping around him. He tipped his head to give Dylan better access and shivered when Dylan caught Cam’s earlobe between his teeth, bit lightly, sucked. “Ah…”
Just when he thought he’d fall to his knees and worship Dylan’s cock the way he had Cam’s, Dylan drew away, holding on to one of Cam’s hands. “C’mon, baby.”
“Oh, yes.” He knew he sounded breathless, but there it was. He gladly allowed Dylan to lead him down the hall to the kitchen. But when Dylan stopped at the table and let him go, Cam asked, “What’s the matter?” The bedroom was off to the right. Didn’t he remember?
“You got a paper in all this mess?” Dylan shuffled around the debris on the table top—plates and bowls and coffee cups from breakfast, the classifieds and sports section Cam never read.
“Why?”
“I want the entertainment section. They still got those? Been forever since I read a paper. Thought they’d gone extinct, like the dinosaurs.”
“Entertainment section? Why?”
Dylan quirked a brow. “Because I need to check the show times. I’m taking you to a movie.”
“I don’t understand.”
“A date, doofus. I want to take you on a date.” He waved a hand from Cam to him. “Like we’re boyfriends, since you never had one before.”
“Oh.” Cam’s heart did a little handspring of baffled joy. “Really?”
“Yeah, really. But since I don’t have a computer or a cel
l phone, I need a paper.”
“Today’s is over here, on the counter.” He went to get it and thumbed through until he found the right section. “You’re serious? A movie?”
“Yup. Early show, I guess. That’ll leave us plenty of time for other things, if you catch my drift.”
“That would be grand,” he murmured, so confused his head hurt.
“Grand.” That grin that warmed Cam like sunshine flashed across Dylan’s face. “I love when you say that.”
“I’ll say it all the time, then.”
“Hey, don’t wear it out.” He snickered, then must have found what he was looking for in the paper. “Here we go. What are you in the mood for? Action? Sci fi? Comedy?”
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
“Hm. I think you’ll like this one.”
“Which one?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out. First show’s at noon. That gives us time to do something else.” He rubbed his adorably scruffy chin and considered Cam, who twitched like an eager racehorse. He prayed Dylan’s “something else” was the same “something else” he had in mind.
“Perhaps,” Cam ventured, “we could, er, continue what we’d started last night?”
“Nah,” Dylan said, much to Cam’s disappointment. “I got another idea. Remember you said you’d show me a few self-defense moves?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, after you feed me breakfast and make me coffee, I’m up for that. How about you?”
He was up, definitely, but only because he’d had other ambitions—like licking and kissing Dylan from head to toe. Still, if that’s what Dylan wanted… “Of course. Sure.” He tried a weak smile that, for some reason, made Dylan laugh.
He came around the table and surprised Cam with a hard kiss that left Cam’s lips stinging. “You’re precious, you know that?”
He was confused. He knew that well enough. But he licked his lips to catch Dylan’s flavor and shoved his fingers through his hair. “Can I make you toast with your eggs?”
Dylan smirked. “That’d be grand.”
Maybe doing martial arts on a full stomach wasn’t the best idea after all, Dylan considered as he slammed once again onto the thin mat on the floor of what Cam called “the practice room.” Dylan would call it “the torture room” after this. His breath grunted out of him, and pain scattered through his bones. “Christ almighty, Cam. I’m an old man, and I already got the crap beat out of me once this week. Take it easy.”
Looking at him from behind his protective leather goggles, Cam relaxed his aggressive stance and spread his hands. “You told me not to be gentle.”
He did? Oh yeah. “I lied. Be gentle.” He sat up, one hand on the small of his back, and winced. Maybe Cam was taking out his sexual frustrations on him. Sure as shit he deserved it.
“Besides, you’re hardly old.” Cam reached down to help him up. “How old are you, anyhow?”
“Twenty-three,” he said, standing.
“Oh well, I’m only two years younger.”
“I know, I know. Believe me, two years makes a big difference, especially when you’ve had a rough life.” Dylan rubbed his sore ass, not caring that he whined. “What sort of martial art is this anyhow? Tae Bo? Drunken monkey? Dim Mak death touch?”
His bare chest gleaming with sweat, looking way too good to be wasting time doing this, Cam shrugged. “I don’t think there’s a name for it. It’s what we train in from the time we’re young boys.”
So at least he’d been a young boy at some point. Dylan didn’t regret not asking Cam what he was, but nothing so far today had given him any more clues. Despite his nobler intentions, he’d kind of hoped to figure out Cam’s secret identity himself. The upstairs of the house contained only empty rooms, offering no hints to go on. Even this practice room held only a few mats and large mirrors on the walls, so they could observe their katas, Cam had told him. And there hadn’t been a hint of wings all morning.
“All right,” Dylan said, taking a deep breath that hurt when his ribs expanded. “Show me that move again.”
“Are you sure? It could be you’re still not recovered from the attack the other night. You can rest a bit more, if—”
“Forget about it. I’m not going down without a fight. And don’t remind me about those guys at the Mexican place. It’s embarrassing enough you had to come to my rescue.”
“I didn’t mind. Really.”
“Yeah, I guess I didn’t either. I’m a lover, not a fighter.” He tunneled his fingers through his sweat-spiked hair, swiped his hands across his own damp chest, then rubbed them on the front of his jeans. “C’mon, Bruce Lee, show me what you got.”
Although the strange leather goggles strapped to his head blocked his dangerous gaze, Cam’s emotions were easy to read. The arched eyebrows clearly communicated his skepticism. And maybe a little pity.
Nevertheless, Dylan assumed the position Cam had shown him, feet spread, fists up to protect his face, and Cam came in with a slow-motion right hook. Dylan grabbed his forearm, ducked under it, hip-checked him, and tried like hell to heave him over his shoulder. And succeeded only in grinding his ass against Cam’s groin. Cam grunted, but Dylan didn’t think it was in pain.
Before he could blink, Cam had his foot between Dylan’s feet and had leveraged him around. Dylan barely had time to gasp before he slammed back onto the mat. “Fuck!”
Cam sat down heavily beside him, legs crossed, wrists hanging over his knees. “If one strategy doesn’t work, you must try another. If you can’t throw me, there are other things you can do. Drive an elbow into my ribs, or twist behind me to put an arm around my throat.”
He’d told Dylan these things before, but Dylan really, really wanted to throw him, dammit. He harrumphed and sat up gingerly. “I just feel like I oughta get one thing mastered before I move on to something else.”
“In a fighting situation, your enemies won’t give you time to master anything. You must be flexible.”
Dylan dragged his hand over his face. “Flexible has never been my thing.”
“I did notice you have a wee stubborn streak.” Cam stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back on the palms of his hands. “Look at it this way, you might not have mastered it, but at least you didn’t give up.”
“Yeah, well, I think I’m giving up now.” Dylan rubbed his ribs, which were, in truth, still a little sore from the other night. “Hey, why do you have to do this shit anyhow when you got those magic eyes?”
Cam adjusted the worn tan goggles. “It wouldn’t exactly be a fair fight.”
“So what? Fuck ’em.”
“That’s not our philosophy.”
Dylan peered at him. The goggles were made of worn, tan stitched leather with what looked like brass fittings, and buckled around the back of Cam’s head. They were slitted so that Cam could look out, but Dylan, or any other fighting partner, wouldn’t get the full effect of his gaze. Cam had explained that he sometimes sparred with the novice brothers, and so he wore this to protect them. That answered one question, at least. The brothers weren’t like Cam and Tash. “Those goggles are real sexy.”
Cam snorted and leaned back on his elbows, stretching out.
“Am I ever going to see your eyes again?” Dylan rolled onto his side next to Cam, his cheek propped on his fist. “Up until the clash at the door, I kind of liked looking at them.”
“I don’t know if it’s safe. I couldn’t ask Tash about it, and the brothers wouldn’t be any happier than Tash if they knew you were here with me now. And what if I hurt you? I couldn’t live with that.”
Dylan scooted closer. God, the kid smelled even better sweaty, like salty lemons. All that physical exertion had distracted Dylan from being horny for a while, but now that his muscles were warmed up and his blood was pinging through him, he began to get ideas again. He’d planned a nice slow seduction for this afternoon, but maybe they could do a little warm-up before the big event after the movi
e.
“Well, I can’t live with always having to look at you through shades. Or these fucking slits.”
He reached for the goggles, but Cam jerked his head aside. “Don’t.”
“C’mon, dude. It’s all right. It was just that you panicked last night. You’re not worried now, are you?” When Cam scowled, Dylan ran his hand soothingly over Cam’s belly and up between his nipples to the thick gold chain circling his neck. His skin was smooth, with only the finest smattering of dark hair. His abs were ripped, and he had the tightest waist. Jesus, what a body. Dylan could hardly wait to have it writhing under him later. He edged up closer, rising on an elbow to kiss that scowl away.
Cam was stingy at first, barely responding. He didn’t like talking about his eyes, that much was clear. Dylan eased back. “Relax. I promise I won’t try to take them off, okay?”
He couldn’t read the expression in Cam’s eyes, of course, but the frown remained and Cam’s eyebrows scrunched down. “You still want me, even after that? After what I did?” His voice softened gloomily at the end, and Dylan felt a pang in his gut. Dumb kid.
“I’m here, ain’t I? I came all the way over here this morning to see you.”
“Not just to drop off the dog?”
Gertie lay curled in a ball in the corner of the room. “Some guard dog she is, huh? Sleeping it off while you wipe the floor with me.” He cocked a grin at Cam, who still looked worried. Dylan rubbed Cam’s belly again, growing serious. “I swear, I want you so bad it’s all I can think about. Even after I came to, after I was done wondering what the hell happened, I knew I had to see you again. You were just scared, baby. Like a frightened little kitten.”
“Kitten?” Cam finally broke out in laughter.
“Yeah, you know, all hissing and spitting with your fur standing up. So adorable.”
He shook his head. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”
