A tug against his hold had him carefully tightening his grip. Chris looked into the dark chocolate eyes framed in dense lashes and felt his heart begin to tip toward the man. Careful, careful, don’t want to scare him off. He looked down at Rich’s hand and nodded. “Your hand? The skin is very smooth, the bones almost too prominent, but it makes your fingers appear very elegant, almost—” He looked up and winked, knowing he was goading Rich. Montoya. “Almost feminine, you know?”
Rich scowled and jerked his hand back, and this time Chris let him go. “I do not have girl hands, and you didn’t scare me with that damned horn,” the man sniped, and Chris thought he couldn’t possibly look cuter. “I swerved because…because there was something in the road!”
Chris let an eyebrow do the doubting, arching it up high on his forehead.
Rich’s cheeks turned ruddy and he narrowed his eyes. “Fine. Whatever.”
“Mind if I take a look under the hood?” Chris gestured to the still billowing car. “Though I have to say, I don’t think there’s much hope we can do anything for this cute little car right now ’cept maybe tow her.”
Rich glared at him for a moment then turned to press the button for the hood. Chris watched him closely and wondered once again what had happened to the man. The anger and scowls didn’t set naturally on Rich, and Chris would bet his beloved rig the man had once been a happy-go-lucky flirt.
“I think it overheated and the heads are cracked,” Rich muttered as Chris walked around to the front of the car.
Chris frowned at him. “You didn’t notice the temp gage or—” He shut up when Rich blushed even more and looked a hair past miserable.
“I was just…it’s been so long since I just…” Rich waved a hand and Chris waited for him to continue but he didn’t.
Chris was left to fill in the blanks himself. He couldn’t decide if it’d been ‘so long since’ Rich had taken a drive, or since he’d been happy. Chris wasn’t sure about the first, but the latter seemed to fit the man for some reason. God, Chris just wanted to scoop him up and hold him, which would definitely make Rich think he was crazy. “Looks like shit under here,” he called out then jumped when Rich’s shoulder brushed against the middle of his back.
“Figures,” Rich said sourly from beside Chris. “I’m supposed to be in McKinton in a few hours. I’d better call and tell them I’m going to be late before the sheriff sends out a freaking search party.”
Chris didn’t know who ‘them’ were, or why a sheriff would bother getting involved, but Rich sounded too miserable for words. After a quick calculation of miles between here and McKinton, Chris came to a decision. “C’mon, I’ll give you a lift to McKinton. Save you from being hunted down. You can call for a tow from the rig, or I have a friend who can pick your car up and fix it, then bring it to you wherever you’re at.” That would be him, but there was no need to freak out Rich with that info right now.
Rich gave him a long, considering look. “Why do you have that thing on your chin?”
Whether or not he accepts my help depends on the answer to that? Chris decided on the truth. “Because I like it, and it looks good with these—” He lifted his shirt and showed Rich his nipples, speared by two thick hoops. He tugged his shirt down then danced his fingers over his fly. “And with the piercings I have here.” Then he stuck his tongue out and wiggled the bar in the slick muscle, setting the ball to bobbing.
“Shit,” Rich mumbled, drawing the word out into two syllables. He swallowed noisily and his gaze darted from Chris’ tongue to his chin, to his nipples then down to his groin. He swallowed again and Chris could do nothing to stop his cock from swelling, which sucked as he’d tucked down and to the right this morning. His tight jeans were strangling his shaft, and it flat out hurt.
Chris shifted and figured what the hell. He popped the top button on his jeans and started to inch his hand down, intent on moving his cock to a more comfortable position.
Rich hissed and jerked his head back to glare at him. “What are you doing? Someone might drive by! You can’t pull that out here!”
“Calm down, sweetie,” Chris goaded, grinning when Rich’s pretty eyes bugged. “I’m just making some room since you got me all hot and bothered.”
Rich looked up at him, surprise evident in his wide eyes. “You’re—”
“Gay,” Chris finished. “Yup. Figured you must be too since you visually fondled me when I was walking up.”
A goldfish, that’s what Rich looks like, his mouth flapping open and shut like that. Chris found it strangely endearing and…his dick throbbed against the tight denim confine. Every time Rich’s mouth formed an ‘O’, Chris wanted to press his length into it. Whether Rich was ‘the one’ or not, Chris wanted him, plain and simple. Except maybe it was neither of those things, because he was thinking other thoughts besides ones of just getting off, and those other thoughts involved words like ‘commitment’ and ‘partner’.
“Sweetie?” Rich finally said, or squeaked, really, his voice several pitches higher than Chris would have believed possible.
“Well, sure,” Chris muttered as he struggled for an explanation. Telling the obviously highly strung man that Chris’ mom, a well-known—in her circle of like-minded believers, anyway—had foretold, albeit vaguely, of Chris finding the man he was meant to spend his life with, would probably just make the guy take off at running full tilt. Chris didn’t mind a chase, but he preferred one where his prey wasn’t terrified of being caught. “Don’t take it personally. It just sort of slipped out.” He’d never called any of his previous lovers by anything other than their name, but it didn’t seem beneficial to his cause to say so.
Rich gave him a disbelieving look then pointed one long finger at him. “I am anything but sweet. Don’t fucking do it again.”
Ah, a curse word to prove your un-sweetness. Got it. Chris shrugged. “I’ll try, but some habits are hard to break. Now, since I can’t fix this here for fear of shattering your delicate sensibilities, would you care to decide whether or not you’re going to let me give you a ride to McKinton?” If Rich said no, Chris would just have to sit here and wait with him until someone else rescued the man.
Rich’s shoulders drooped, and Chris was left trying to figure out if it was the idea of riding with him or of going to McKinton that seemed to stamp defeat onto the man. “What time is it?”
Chris frowned and glanced at his watch. “Eleven-thirty. Are you going to be late for something?” He could drive fast as long as they didn’t catch any traffic.
Rich shook his head. “No, I just have to get to Laine’s on time or he’ll come looking for me. I really don’t want that, so if you’ll give me a minute to get my suitcases?”
“Sure,” Chris mumbled, his lips going numb. Laine. He’ll come looking for me. I really don’t want that. He hadn’t considered Rich already had a boyfriend, which was a big case of stupid on his part. Of course a man as handsome as Rich, with that hint of vulnerability in his large dark eyes, would have someone. But it wasn’t the right someone, or else Rich wouldn’t sound so unhappy about seeing this guy, or seem worried about him coming to look for Rich. Chris tried to parse out what it all meant. Scenarios of Rich in an abusive relationship were the most prominent ones, as Rich really didn’t seem to want to hook back up with the guy. And Rich definitely was hurting, had been hurt, not just physically.
If Chris squinted he could just make out the aura around the other man. Unlike his mom, Chris had to really work to see someone’s aura, and he was usually glad for that. He didn’t want to look around and see everyone’s emotional state surrounding them. A chill skittered down his spine when he picked up the smoky colors around Rich. Not a glow, which was a bad, bad thing according to his mom.
Shit. Colors, colors, concentrate and pick them from the smoke. Fuck. Mustard yellow. Gray. Oh shit, white… Chris blinked as his concentration scattered. He hadn’t even looked to see if there was anything positive surrounding Rich. He’d been too shocked by t
he negativity. Mustard yellow, a sign of anger and pain. The gray was a reflection of darkness in a person, as well as depressive thoughts and feelings. Those were bad enough, but the white… Contrary to what many might think, white in an aura didn’t signify purity, not according to his mother, unless it was observed around a baby.
White symbolized a contact with the spiritual side, which his mother had drilled into him, in almost every case, meant the person with the white aura was likely to die soon. He thought she’d said some other things about white auras, but the possibility of Rich dead in the very near future shorted out Chris’s thought process. He didn’t want Rich to die until they’d had a chance to live long lives together, or at the very least, he admitted as his inner slut peeked out, he’d like to feel the man reaming his ass as many times as they could both manage it.
Chris shook his head and jogged over to Rich, who was lifting the trunk. “Here, let me get these. Why don’t you go ahead and wait in the cab?” He really, really wanted Rich away from the road. How many times had he heard news stories about someone getting hit and killed by a passing car? Chris grabbed the luggage, grunting only a little as he hefted the three bags from the trunk.
“I’m not helpless,” Rich snapped, reaching for a bag.
“Nope, you sure aren’t.” Chris couldn’t resist darting a glance at the hood, which still had thin curls of smoke streaming out from under it. “Close the trunk, would ya?”
He waited, keeping his bigger body between Rich and the road several feet behind him. Rich snarled a few bad words but slammed the trunk shut without arguing. Then he turned on his heel and treated Chris to a very fine show of taut, tiny ass and long, angry strides. At least it got Rich’s shoulders back up straight instead of drooping like he’s ready to throw in the towel and roll over and d—don’t tempt fate!
Chris did some snarling of his own as he followed the sexy smaller man. He would find out what was going on with Rich Montoya. Once he did, he’d get the damned ugly colors out of the man’s aura just as soon as his mom told him how, fate and all that other shit be damned.
Chapter Four
“Have you been in one of these before?”
Rich shook his head as he stared through the open door at the inside of the rig’s cab. It looked like the cockpit of a plane, or maybe a spaceship, with all the gages and chrome. Two comfortable looking pilot seats covered in a gray material with dark blue insets took up several feet, yet there was still enough room for a person to get up and move around. Rich could just see into the sleeper, and knowing there was a bed back there made his skin prickle with goosebumps.
“Let me help you up.”
“I got it,” Rich nearly squeaked as he scurried to climb in the cab.
That rough baritone seeped through Rich’s skin, swirling under the surface and pooling in his balls. It set off tremors of lust that shot from his ass to cock to nipples then surged right back to where they began before zipping off again. And the man that voice belonged to was startling sexy—startling because Rich had never been attracted to a man who was so much bigger than him, and he’d pretty much avoided any potential lover who had more than a single ear piercing. Yet he wanted Chris Neeland fiercely.
Rich took a seat and tried to find a position to cover his erection. As glad as he was to have and maintain a hard-on, he was also reluctant to let the other man know. He kicked off his shoes and pulled his left leg up, glancing at Chris, who was watching him. The smirk on the man’s wide lips told Rich that Chris was aware of exactly why he’d hitched up his leg, but if there’d been any doubt it was chased away when Chris stared at Rich’s crotch then licked his berry pink lips.
Chris made this purring sound that Rich’s cock approved of, spurting a daub of pre-cum Rich just knew was going to soak through his boxers and jeans. Rather than feeling flattered, he was angry. That too-familiar emotion that always seemed to be simmering just below the surface of his consciousness began to boil over. What the fuck kind of game was Chris playing? There was no way the guy could be attracted to him, not with the hideous scar on his face, and the skeletal body. Yeah, Chris had looked like he was turned on outside, but it could be he got his kicks from playing the savior or toying with someone he thought could use a pity fuck. Rich had no illusion about his looks, not anymore.
“What?” Rich snarled when Chris continued to visually devour his package.
Chris finally looked at him and leered as he climbed up through the passenger door. Rich started to get up but found himself pressed back into the seat by one of Chris’ very large hands. Tattooed hands, Rich noted as he glared at the offending appendage splayed open against his chest. What looked like rings were tattooed around Chris’s index and middle fingers.
“Where are you going?”
Rich stopped trying to figure out what the tattoos were supposed to be and looked up until his gaze clashed with Chris’. The mocking expression he expected to see wasn’t there, only confusion tinged with desperation.
“You don’t trust me.”
It wasn’t a question, but Rich answered anyway. “No. I don’t even know you, and you’re practically salivating all over my cock.”
Chris slid his hand slowly down the middle of Rich’s chest, then further down his stomach. Rich sucked in a startled breath when that big hand pressed harder against his concave belly before smoothing down to cup his erection.
“How could I not look at this?” Chris squeezed lightly, and Rich moaned as another jet of wet heat spat from his slit. Chris bent down until his nose was practically touching Rich’s. “You can’t tell me a handsome guy like yourself hasn’t had plenty of one-offs in clubs with men you’ve barely spoken to.”
Rich’s cock might have stayed hard, might have even pushed up into that warm hand, but the rest of him recoiled. Chris was playing him, probably thinking the scared freak would be desperate for it. He wasn’t far off—Rich hadn’t been touched in so long, hadn’t even got hard often. This was the longest time he’d maintained an erection since before he’d got out of the hospital. Still, he had his pride, or what was left of it. He wasn’t going to be anybody’s pity fuck.
“Get your hand off me and let me out.” Rich didn’t know if the venom in his voice was his own or a residual of the invader. It sounded hateful and angry enough, and it scared him. He didn’t want to be that sort of person, the one who hated everyone and everything, and he for damn sure didn’t want to be under the influence of something…other.
Chris studied him intently, his light eyes never veering from Rich’s dark ones. Rich wished he knew what the man was looking for, what he found that made him nod slightly and hum under his breath. Chris’ hand swept up his torso, and Rich tried not to whimper in disappointment. It’s just a game to him. Rich repeated the thought, but his dick was not agreeing with him. It ached for a more personal touch, the stretch of warm, soft lips and a wet tongue, or a tight hole to shove into. Even Chris’ big fist stroking the sensitive flesh would be more than Rich had felt in a year, and he craved it suddenly and intensely. Even if it was some sort of game, why couldn’t he go along with it, get off with someone who was obviously willing for whatever reason? Chris was right—Rich had fucked men whose names he didn’t know and didn’t care to. They’d been willing bodies and this wouldn’t be any different.
Then Chris had to go fuck it all up.
“You think this means you aren’t attractive?” Chris trailed a finger over the scar on Rich’s face as he cringed and tried to escape the touch.
Rich felt like an elephant was sitting on his chest. He couldn’t breathe, his lungs constricting as panic replaced his anger. “D-don’t—” When he tried to jerk his head away he found his face caught by Chris’ other hand, forcing him to hold still as Chris traced the scar again.
“You do,” Chris murmured. “Silly, sexy man.” He dipped his head to the side, nuzzling the left side of Rich’s face. The scratchy feel of stubble rasping over Rich’s clean shaven skin tore a moan from Rich e
ven as he started to struggle. Chris huffed out an annoyed sound, or maybe it was amused, then Rich felt the slick wet tip of Chris’ tongue tracing over the ruined flesh.
Rich froze, so shocked he couldn’t move. The hands framing his face slid up into his hair, tipping his head back.
“You’re gorgeous.”
Those words from Chris broke the spell that held Rich immobile. He knew what he looked like.
His anger returned, a bright, hot ball bursting in his belly, flowing through him like an eruption of lava. Rich slammed his hands against Chris’ massive chest and managed to nudge him back an inch or two.
“Get the fuck off of me!” Rich scuttled back in the chair, trying to get both legs in the seat so he could crawl over the back of it and get out, away, gone before this man ripped him apart inside with mocking words coated in a sincere voice. He might be something close to desperate to feel another man’s touch, but he wouldn’t be anyone’s fool. Rich got his heels in the seat and pushed up as Chris reached for him. Rich swung out and caught the man in the ribs with a solid right. Chris merely grunted while pain shot up Rich’s hand to his elbow.
“That’s enough,” Chris growled as he caught Rich’s wrists and pinned them to the armrests. Rich bucked and tried to kick his legs out only to find himself straddled by well over two hundred pounds of pissed off man. Chris’ eyes were narrowed, the pupils huge, chasing out the whiskey color until it was only a thin ring. His lips were pressed into a tight line, and his nostrils flared with each sharply indrawn breath. The man looked furious, and his big body tensed, muscles rippling as he tightened his grip on Rich’s wrists.
Oh shit, he was an idiot! He’d let another psycho get to him, and this one was bigger and looking to hurt Rich in a whole different way! McAlister had cut him, imprinting on his skin proof of McAlister’s madness, but he’d never said anything sexual, never touched Rich with even a hint of desire, not even when he’d held Rich’s cock or balls in his hand and nicked that delicate flesh.
Wait Until Dawn Page 4
