by Nic Starr
Mitch didn’t wait for his response, just headed to the kitchen bench, leaving Finn to look at his broad shoulders as he leaned over the sink. Mitch looked back over his shoulder, and Finn flushed at being caught staring but met Mitch’s gaze.
“Grown men sometimes need looking after too, Finn. It isn’t a weakness.”
BY THE next day, Finn felt 100 percent better. There was no sign of a headache, and all the nausea had disappeared entirely. His appetite had returned to normal, and the lethargy—the migraine hangover—was a thing of the past. It probably helped that he had gone to bed early the previous night, not long after eating the light dinner Mitch made him. The full belly and the meds ensured he slept long and soundly, and as a result, Finn felt like his usual self. He contemplated a shower, but his stomach had other ideas, so he padded in his bare feet toward the kitchen, hoping there was enough bread left to make toast.
Finn came up short at the sight of Mitch asleep on the couch. He hadn’t even given a thought to the fact Mitch was sleeping in the house and that the guest room didn’t have a stick of furniture, let alone a bed in it. Ridiculous, really—where else would Mitch be sleeping, given he’d been looking after him for the last couple of days? Damn! Mitch had been so good to him, and in return, he was sleeping on the crappy old couch. Thank God he’d obviously found some spare linens and a pillow so his face wasn’t pushed into the aging fabric.
Mitch looked different in sleep. He was usually so alert, his eyes taking in everything going on around him. Finn didn’t think he’d ever seen him truly relaxed or letting down his guard. Sleep softened Mitch’s features, and his mouth was slightly open, gentle, snuffling snores escaping. Finn couldn’t help but smile.
He let his gaze roam farther, only slightly ill at ease due to the fact he was ogling Mitch in his sleep. Dark stubble shadowed Mitch’s strong jaw, the same dark color as the hair scattered across his chest. His skin was deeply tanned, partly due to his olive complexion and partly as a result of time spent under the summer sun. There was some kind of mark on his left pec, a tattoo of some sort, but Finn couldn’t see the details from across the room. The hair on Mitch’s chest tapered into a treasure trail, disappearing under the waistband of a pair of red underwear only partly covered with a crumpled sheet. Mitch had obviously started the night with the sheet covering him, but it was now in a tangled mess, leaving one long, muscled leg exposed. The underwear did nothing to hide Mitch either, displaying a generous bulge.
Finn bit back a groan as desire flashed through him. Yep, he was definitely feeling a lot better. The temptation to wander closer, to get near enough to touch, was strong.
Instead Finn turned on his heel and retreated the way he came. He ignored his erection as he peeled off his briefs, turned on the tap, and stepped into the shower. The water cascaded down his body, but he didn’t stop to enjoy it. He washed quickly, focusing on the task at hand—lather, wash, rinse. By the time he completed his shower and finished shaving, he’d gotten himself pretty much under control. It was a dangerous world he lived in, and he couldn’t afford to let his attraction start ruling his thinking. There was too much at risk.
Damn! He looked at his briefs where they lay on the tiled floor. No other clothes, just what he’d worn into the bathroom. Finn wrapped the towel around his waist, ready for the dash across the hall to his bedroom. He opened the door and ran straight into Mitch. The air was knocked from his lungs, and if it weren’t for Mitch’s arms wrapped around him, he would have ended up on his arse. His body tingled from the contact. Oh God!
“Sorry—”
“I didn’t—”
They spoke at the same time.
Mitch’s grip around his biceps was firm. Their faces were inches apart. Mitch wasn’t letting go. Finn wasn’t moving away. He couldn’t tear his gaze from Mitch’s eyes. They were close enough that he could see each clearly defined dark eyelash and the golden flecks in Mitch’s brown eyes. Mitch’s nostrils flared, and Finn’s breath hitched. He was operating on a hair trigger, and just the thought of Mitch these days was enough to set him off, let alone the warmth of his body and the scent of his skin.
Blood rushed through his veins, thundering in his ears as desire pooled in his belly. His cock lengthened as every fiber of his being focused on Mitch in front of him.
“I….” Oh, God. The words stuck in his throat.
Chapter SEVENTEEN
HOLY FUCK!
If it weren’t for the flex of the muscles under his palms, Mitch would have thought he was dreaming. A nearly naked Finn was like the vision in his dream come true. A dream had woken him from a disturbed night’s sleep, where he’d been up periodically to check on Finn. A dream where Finn came to him. And now he was in Mitch’s arms. Nearly.
I should let go. I should push past.
He should follow through with his original plan to escape to the bathroom and take care of the raging hard-on he’d woken up with, but God help him, he could hardly bring himself to breathe, let alone move.
He was lost in the bright blue eyes that turned darker even as he watched, the pupils swallowing the irises. Finn blinked, and Mitch’s gaze roamed from Finn’s eyes to his lips, his freshly shaved jaw, then to his throat. Finn swallowed heavily, and his Adam’s apple held Mitch’s attention. Mitch wanted to lean in and feel the movement with his mouth, to suck at Finn’s throat where he could see his pulse ticking. Mitch couldn’t help himself, not after so many weeks of longing and the couple of days spent in such close quarters. He took a step back but didn’t let go of Finn’s arms, wanting, needing to make sure Finn didn’t move.
The small amount of space allowed his gaze to wander farther down Finn’s body, taking in the smooth torso with golden skin and the tattoos that adorned his flesh. Angel wings stretched from shoulder to shoulder under his clavicles and took up most of his chest. His arms were inked from his biceps to his wrists. Finn was like a walking work of art, but that wasn’t what took the last of Mitch’s breath away. What sucked all the air from Mitch’s lungs was Finn’s obvious arousal, the towel wrapped tightly around his hips unable to hide his erection. Mitch’s gaze roamed slowly upward over Finn’s taut stomach, past his mouthwatering chest and that sexy-as-hell tattoo, past the lips he wanted to lean in and taste, until he finally met Finn’s eyes. What he saw there stunned him.
The desire being radiated back was undeniable.
Finn trembled under Mitch’s touch—or maybe that was his own hands shaking—as time stood still. Head full of jumbled thoughts—should I, shouldn’t I?—then the tiniest movement made up his mind. Finn leaned forward. The motion was hardly discernible but left no doubt and caused Mitch’s heart to race. Finn wanted him, and that was all Mitch needed to know. He wouldn’t have been able to hold back now, even if he wanted to.
Finn tilted his head back and groaned as he fell into Mitch’s hold, the sound amping up Mitch’s desire. He pulled him close, wrapping his arms around Finn’s hard body and kissing him as if his life depended on it. The kiss sent his pulse thundering. Hot and wet and deep. It was all open mouths and tongues, and Finn gave back as good as he got.
Finn filled Mitch’s senses. The minty freshness of his mouth, the scent of whatever-the-fuck bathroom products he’d been using, and the warmth of the skin beneath his hands. Finn pushed forward, shoving them backward but never breaking the kiss. He grasped Mitch’s biceps, holding the two of them close. Mitch’s back hit the wall with a thud, and with nowhere else to go, he was anchored, but that didn’t stop Finn pushing, ensuring there was no space between them. Mitch kissed harder, pulled harder, and groaned as Finn ground against him. Heat pooled in his belly, and his cock throbbed. Mitch undulated his hips as he thrust against the hard planes of Finn’s stomach. His body was on fire.
Oh my God.
Reluctantly Mitch tore his mouth from Finn’s and sucked in much-needed air. Finn looked shell-shocked, his eyes glazed, his lips red and swollen, the skin around his mouth pink from the scrape of Mitch’s stubbl
e. For a moment Mitch worried Finn was going to come to his senses and realize this was all a mistake, that they shouldn’t have revealed their cards to each other, that they shouldn’t be together like this, but instead Finn put a hand behind Mitch’s head and pulled him down so their lips met again.
The sounds Finn made were hot as hell. He panted and moaned into the kiss. Mitch ran his hands down the silky skin of Finn’s back until he encountered the towel. Moving past the fabric, he reached under it. Finn’s thighs were firm, the hair that dusted his skin surprisingly soft to touch. His arse was rounded and smooth, the muscles flexing as Finn pressed himself to Mitch in a move so reminiscent of fucking that Mitch’s knees nearly buckled. Thank God for the wall.
Mitch forced a hand between them and tried to find the opening in the towel. Fuck it. He fumbled to find the tucked-in end and groaned in relief when he finally managed to rip the whole thing from Finn’s body and drop it to the floor. Within seconds he had his hand firmly wrapped around Finn’s cock.
Finn gasped. He broke the kiss and lowered his head, burying his face against Mitch’s throat. His breath was hot, and the mewling noises he made did something funny to Mitch’s gut. He wanted to hear more, to see what other sounds he could elicit from Finn. Finn’s hands were still joined behind Mitch’s neck, and he was now sucking on Mitch’s pulse point, a pulse he could feel echoing in his own cock. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this turned on, if ever. Finn was rock-hard silk sliding through his fist, but suddenly it wasn’t enough.
Mitch hauled Finn up by his gorgeous arse, and as his feet came off the ground, Finn instinctively held tighter and wrapped his legs about Mitch’s hips, and Mitch carried him to the bedroom.
The bed was a mess of rumpled sheets. Mitch dumped Finn on his back and crawled onto the mattress after him, bringing their mouths together. Without breaking the kiss, he supported himself on one arm as he hovered over Finn and used the other to pull his boxer briefs down. Eventually he had to separate their mouths so he could wrestle the underwear off his legs. As soon as he’d kicked them free, Finn pushed him onto his back and straddled his thighs.
They were both panting, and Mitch was sure he looked as debauched as Finn—breathless, kiss-swollen lips and glazed eyes. Finn’s grip on Mitch’s biceps was firm, his hold strong—he was all tight muscle and vibrating energy. Finn brought their mouths together, but the kiss was brief. Instead he kissed a trail down Mitch’s jaw, licking across his Adam’s apple, sucking at his clavicle, then pulling a nipple into his mouth.
Fuck! Mitch arched off the bed, the suck sending pulses straight to his dick. After giving the other nipple the same treatment, Finn moved lower. He dipped his tongue into Mitch’s belly button briefly before raising his head. Mitch’s cock throbbed impatiently against his belly, but he didn’t have long to wait. He shuddered as Finn wrapped a hand around his cock, angling it upward and lowering his head.
“Oh fuck, yes,” Mitch groaned as hot, wet heat surrounded him. “Fuck yeah.”
Finn didn’t muck around. He forced more of Mitch’s cock into his mouth, not stopping until Mitch nudged the back of his throat. He set up a fast and strong rhythm that nearly drove Mitch out of his mind—mouth on his dick, moving his hand to Mitch’s balls. “Oh God. So good.” His hands instinctively rose to grasp Finn’s head as he pumped in and out, Finn taking it all. The sight of Finn’s lips wrapped around his length as he thrust was the hottest thing Mitch had ever seen. And the sounds. Jesus.
Finn pulled off with a loud slurp, and Mitch’s cock bounced against his belly as Finn scrambled over his to reach the bedside table. He barely had time to register the cool air on his wet dick before Finn was back, kneeling between his thighs. A condom landed on Mitch’s chest, and his eyes widened at the sight of Finn pouring lube onto his hand. Finn ran his slick hand down his own cock and pulled it, once, twice before reaching behind himself. Damn, he looks good. So fucking hot.
“C’mon. What are you waiting for?”
Finn indicated the condom, and Mitch fumbled for it. He tore it out of the packaging and rolled it on. Finn used more lube to slick him up before straddling Mitch’s hips and positioning Mitch at his opening. Their eyes locked, and Mitch grasped Finn’s thighs. He could feel the strain of Finn’s muscles as he lowered himself slowly.
“Jesus Christ. Fuck, Finn, that feels amazing.”
Finn bottomed out, then leaned forward for quick kiss, but he didn’t linger. He straightened, then rose, lifting himself until only the tip of Mitch’s dick was inside that tight heat. He slammed back down. Oh my God.
Finn’s muscles bunched under Mitch’s palms as he set up a hard and fast rhythm. It was such a turn-on to see Finn take what he wanted, and what he wanted wasn’t gentle. Perhaps it was the built-up sexual tension because, if Finn felt anything like Mitch did, this was a long time coming. It hardly took any time for Mitch to be teetering on the edge of orgasm. Heat pooled in his belly, his balls tightened, and he was ready to explode.
“Holy shit, Finn. I’m close.”
“So fucking good.” Finn looked down at him, slowing the pace. “Love your cock in my arse.”
“Love… my cock… in your arse… too,” Mitch grunted as he thrust upward into Finn’s tight, welcoming heat.
Finn grabbed his cock, but Mitch knocked his hand away, sliding his fingers down Finn’s erection.
“Yeah,” Finn groaned as he thrust into Mitch’s grip. “Harder.”
Mitch tightened his hold and gave a couple of strong pulls, watching for Finn’s reaction. Finn arched his back, supporting his weight on his hands that gripped Mitch’s thighs. He flung his head back and moaned, his grunts and groans rising as Mitch increased the pressure. The sounds traveled straight to Mitch’s balls. Finn looked so fucking good riding Mitch’s cock, his sexy-as-fuck tattoos on display.
“So fucking gorgeous, Finn.”
“Don’t stop.”
“Not stopping.”
Mitch fought his own release as he thrust into Finn, over and over as desire coiled in his belly. It wasn’t until Finn erupted in pulsing white heat that Mitch finally let go. He pushed up one last time, closing his eyes in ecstasy as Finn wrenched his toe-curling orgasm from him. The sensation of spilling into Finn was overwhelming, and his heart slammed into his ribs. Holy fuck.
When Mitch finally got himself under control and caught his breath, he opened his eyes to see Finn gazing down at him. For a moment Mitch thought Finn could see right into his soul, could see he’d just rocked Mitch’s world off its goddamn axis.
“That was fucking perfect.” Finn grinned, then leaned over to kiss him.
Mitch couldn’t resist wrapping him in a hug, inhaling the scent of sex and taking a moment to enjoy the hot, sweaty man in his arms. It was perfect. Too perfect. And it shouldn’t have happened.
Finn must have felt him tense. He rose up and quirked a brow. Mitch ignored the unspoken question. They separated, Finn rolling onto his back. Mitch sat on the edge of the bed and took care of the condom, then twisted to look at Finn.
He wondered if Finn could sense the sudden turmoil. Shit, he’d just fucked someone he most definitely shouldn’t have been anywhere near. He should get up and walk out now.
Instead Mitch climbed back into the bed and pulled Finn into his arms.
How can something that feels so right be so wrong?
Chapter EIGHTEEN
SOMETHING HAD definitely changed, and it was more than the sex. It was as if peeling off that layer, that shield they’d both been using to hide their sexuality, gave Mitch permission to feel the way he did. No longer did he fantasize about an unattainable straight guy; he was lusting after someone who reciprocated his feelings. The sex meant the glances were no longer furtive. They were open and admiring. Mitch filled with warmth as Finn’s hand lingered on his shoulder as he passed Mitch a mug of coffee before sitting on the other end of the couch.
The problem was the smile Finn directed his way tightened Mitch’s c
hest in a way Mitch hadn’t felt for a long time, not since the early days with Pete. That warmth, that glow, was something he didn’t think he’d feel again. He basked in the feeling for a moment, returning Finn’s smile and watching him over the rim of his coffee mug.
The color had returned to Finn’s cheeks, and his eyes were clear, no longer shadowed by the pain that haunted him over the last couple of days. The rest—all those hours of sleep—had done him a world of good, and Mitch was glad he told Rocky Finn was out of action, no matter how hard Rocky pushed for Finn to get his arse into CMC.
Thoughts of Rocky quickly dowsed the happiness. The cold, hard truth was Finn was wrapped up in the whole goddamned business and was just as much part of the investigation as Rocky.
Oh Jesus, what the hell was I thinking?
The urge to stand, to leave the room and go outside, was strong. What he should be doing was putting some distance between the two of them, not enjoying a morning coffee after a night spent wrapped in each other’s arms. Mitch itched to have a cigarette, a hit of nicotine to calm him down, but he pushed aside the knowledge there was a pack in the car.
Finn’s brow crinkled as he studied Mitch, and the emotions were overwhelming. Guilt, regret, longing—Mitch was sure they were written all over his face. He ducked his head and gulped at his coffee, hoping Finn hadn’t seen the change in his expression. Maybe if he just shoved away the knowledge of who Finn was, made the most of this last day away from the investigation, and allowed himself to dream. Tomorrow he could worry about motorcycle clubs and drugs and violence. Today he wanted to pretend none of that existed.
“Are you okay?”
Mitch flicked his gaze to Finn. “What? Yeah, sure. Just thinking.”
“Penny for them.”
“Just work. Nothing I want to talk about now.”
