by Tessa Bailey
“Are you?”
Positive his face was an unnatural color, Milo closed his eyes. “What?”
He could feel Renner perusing him head to toe, maybe even lingering somewhere in the middle. “I told you I wouldn’t be your practice dummy for touching other men, but you didn’t agree, did you?” Morning air blew across Milo’s abdomen and he looked down, astonished to find Renner had dragged up his shirt. “Is that because you need taking care of?”
“That’s not why I did this,” Milo said in a rush, worried he might come in his pants. Over what? Having his shirt lifted a few inches? Calm down, man.
“No?” Renner’s middle finger circled his navel, and Milo stifled a moan. “Plans change, though, don’t they? Even when the new plan is a bad idea.”
Milo’s head was an echo chamber. Nothing was sticking and everything was amplified, including his arousal, which was bounding off the charts. All from that single finger rimming his belly button. Fuck. “Is it a bad idea?”
“Getting a taste of you? Yes. The worst one I can think of.” Milo was trying to decode those cryptic words when Renner’s finger left his stomach, the other man lying back, his jaw riddled with tension. “Maybe it’s better if you do the exploring.”
“On you?” Milo breathed the question, a thrill racing down his spine. “Touch you?”
Renner’s answer was a lazy lifted eyebrow. Permission.
I need to fuck. I need to fuck. True facts. But the need for release was lost in conflicting images. His usual method of intercourse was with a woman or alone. So, yeah, he needed to get off so damn bad, but the objective was one thing; reaching that point was another. As in, he had no experience obtaining it this new way. Not to mention, he was getting way ahead of himself. Renner had said touching. Touching. And Milo could no more stop his hand from lifting, from resting on Renner’s stomach, than he could turn the sky purple on command.
“What do you want to do?” Renner asked, his jaw noticeably tight.
Wind rushed through the trees above them, shaking some dew loose. “Look,” Milo managed. “I want to look at you.”
“I don’t see anyone stopping you.”
Garnering his courage, Milo pulled Renner’s shirt up, just enough that he could lean down and see…damn, so many good things. Renner’s stomach, which was nothing like Milo had expected. He’d thought Renner would be smooth, carefully maintained, but the happy trail he found instead was ridiculously masculine, disappearing into the waistband of his sweatpants. He pushed the shirt a couple inches higher and found toned muscles, nice cut ones above Renner’s hips, all beneath a layer of solid man flesh. Renner obviously did what he could between long working hours, and shit, it had paid off. But he wasn’t trying to be on the cover of a beefcake calendar and somehow, yeah, that got Milo even more turned on.
Pulse chugging in his temples, Milo spread a hand over Renner’s belly and traced it up beneath the shirt, amazed when Renner hissed a breath. “I want to taste you. Here.”
“Do it before I change my mind.”
Propelled by hunger, Milo moved fast, sliding down Renner’s side. He took a front-row look at Renner’s abdomen, memorizing the hollows, the way it dipped and shuddered. And then he dived in, suctioning his mouth just to the right of Renner’s happy trail, before tracking down, down with his tongue. Then across and back up. No rhyme or reason, just getting as much of that masculine taste as he could before it got taken away. His heart was slamming into his ribs, and he was starved—starved. His shoulder encountered Renner’s stiffness and Milo groaned, his mouth growing more frantic at the evidence of being wanted in return.
Oh my God, I’m touching Renner Bastion. Thought it was impossible.
“You’re out of control,” Renner growled, shoving his fingers into Milo’s hair. “I shouldn’t love that so much, right? Shouldn’t want to push you lower and see if you’ll be this eager with a mouthful?”
Do it. He couldn’t say the words out loud because that would require stopping. And he was frantic to lick, to gather the moisture that coated Renner’s stomach.
Moisture?
Milo lifted his head, and only then did he feel the rain. Not just rain, though. It was a fucking downpour.
No way.
“Shit.” Renner was the first to leave the hammock, while Milo stared through the interwoven ropes at the ground, trying to get himself together. Eventually he climbed out on unsteady legs, both of them working quickly to untie the hammock, confused eyes clashing with speculative over the top of their handiwork. Milo gathered the hammock in a tight ball and stowed it beneath an arm, his clothes sodden by the time they jogged for the car. As usual, his boss looked completely in control of himself when their gazes met across the console, both of them soaked to the skin. “I can’t say that was relaxing.”
“No,” Milo agreed, starting the car with an unsteady hand. Relaxing was the exact opposite of how he felt with his dick swelled up in the leg of his pants. “Not exactly what I had in mind, either.”
A muscle flexed in Renner’s cheek as he turned to stare out the window. “We should go, or we’re going to be late.”
Milo couldn’t account for the let-down feeling, only knew it was swift enough to give him whiplash. “Right.” They drove in silence to Renner’s place, which took only a few minutes. Not nearly enough for Milo to feel normal again. Or to stop wishing the rain hadn’t started, wondering what might have happened on a clear day. When it came time to part ways, urgency sparked in his chest. It went against every facet of Milo’s personality to leave things awkward…especially when he’d seen a different side of his boss that morning. A few different sides, to be specific. But mainly, he couldn’t stop thinking about Renner following Duke back into the factory, risking his safety.
What else was there to know about him?
Before Renner could unlock the door to his building, Milo tapped the horn and rolled down the window. “Heart pills.”
Relief billowed in when Renner shot him the finger.
Back to normal. Which was no longer anywhere close to normal.
Why did it seem like the beginning of something…better?
Milo stared at the closed door a few beats before driving home.
Chapter Five
This whole setup was absurd.
Renner paced his office in front of the giant glass window overlooking the factory floor. He wasn’t even supposed to be there. By now, he should have been back in the city, planning his next move. Instead, he was stuck in the last one. The Hook plant was only one of his operating factories, and it had been far too long since he’d shown up for impromptu visits at those. Only two nights prior, he’d sworn he was about to finally break free.
Instead he’d agreed to be Milo’s older, wiser mentor, which definitely wasn’t supposed to include letting the younger man lick his skin. Or run his hands in places they shouldn’t go. Knowing how incredible Milo looked when he was aroused and unrestrained was only a part of Renner’s problem.
No, there was something worse. Renner wasn’t qualified to guide Milo anywhere.
A goose egg lodged in his throat, and he turned away from the glass, spying the mountain of paperwork on his desk. The familiar quickening in his chest told him he needed to go sit down and breathe, but he refused. He’d built this company by not resting until every aspect was fruitful and successful. He wouldn’t drop the ball now because of one doctor’s opinion. Isn’t that what the fucking pills were for?
Through the glass, Renner heard a familiar laugh and couldn’t help looking back over his shoulder, watching Milo swagger through the pumping machinery, calling greetings to all the employees who clearly loved and respected him. Yeah, Milo didn’t realize it yet, but he needed Renner’s help like he needed more dimples. He wanted Renner to show him the ropes when it came to living positively with his sexuality, but wasn’t Renner failing at the same thing, in a way?
The manufacturing contract he’d been trying to land for a year still eluded hi
m for one reason—and one reason only. The company’s CEO was reluctant to do business with a gay man. Those actual excuses might not have been made to Renner, but the writing was on the wall. Even with Bastion Enterprises showing huge profit margins, quarter after quarter, Renner couldn’t even get a meeting. No, he’d received an email about Rocky Mountain Ltd. that had summed up their reasoning. Instead of Renner telling them where to stick their multimillion-dollar account—as he should have—Renner had brought in his stepsister, Samantha, and her husband, Duke, to put a more family-friendly face on the company, as Rocky Mountain explained they wanted. But even that had failed…and left Renner feeling like a fraud.
An imposter who had no business helping Milo embrace who he was.
Renner didn’t realize he was staring down at Milo, until the other man’s two dark eyebrows slashed down, his concern obvious. What was he seeing?
He was about to find out, because Milo headed for the stairs.
“Shit,” Renner muttered, going to refill his coffee. Maybe the burn would help douse the stupid, dangerous kick of anticipation of having more words with the Boston Babysitter. Being close enough that touching was an option. A bad, ill-advised one, but one that tempted every cell in his body. Christ, he’d been keyed up since yesterday morning, wondering if Milo would have reached over and touched his cock if the rain hadn’t started. They’d been so desperate in that hammock. Renner couldn’t believe it. Milo had set on him like a man who hadn’t been given a proper meal in his lifetime.
Maybe he hadn’t.
You can’t be the one to feed him.
When the door opened, Renner picked up his office phone to make a call—
Bautista punched a finger down on the hang-up button.
“Hey, boss.” He hopped up onto the desk. “What number cup of coffee is that?”
“I don’t keep track.”
“Yes, you do.” Milo picked up a pen and pointed it at him. “You keep track of everything.”
“Four,” Renner responded wearily. “It’s number four.” Milo looked pretty pleased with himself over that admission, and Renner couldn’t help but admit he liked seeing the younger man pleased over just about anything. Even proving him wrong. “Is there something I can help you with, Bautista?”
“That was the plan, right?” Renner noticed Milo’s hand was shaking a little as he replaced the pen in its designated place. And the sudden desire to grab it and hold it against his mouth was definitely not acceptable. “Friends helping friends.”
“Right.” Renner turned over the file for Rocky Mountain Ltd. so he could concentrate. “Did you have a starting point in mind?”
Milo looked like he wanted to comment on Renner’s distaste over a specific file, but thankfully refrained. “I was hoping you would have something in mind, since you’re the vet—”
“Easy.”
“The expert.”
“Better.” Shaking his head over the ridiculousness of it all, Renner leaned back in his chair and gestured to Milo’s security uniform. “I’ve never seen you in street clothes. What are you planning on wearing to see Travis?”
“Jeans.” He nodded to punctate his answer, then seemed unsure. “Jeans?”
“There are seven million kinds of jeans. It depends.”
“The denim kind.”
Renner had a flashback to the first time he’d met Vaughn, the factory’s head of security. And then Duke, his lead mechanic. Everyone in this town seemed to have an affinity for holes in their clothing, and the more Renner complained, the bigger the holes seemed to grow. “Just tell me there are no tears in them and we’ll be fine.”
Milo ducked his head, looking at Renner from underneath hooded eyelids. He dragged his tongue across his bottom lip as if to say guilty as charged and fuck, Renner’s cock woke up like a hungry lion. Goddamn. Milo had always been too attractive for Renner’s peace of mind. But knowing the guy was not only interested in men, but had an affinity for exploring Renner’s body, had changed the game.
Big-time.
He’s not interested in you. Remember Travis?
“There are holes in your jeans,” Renner asked, forcing himself not to shift in his leather chair, “aren’t there?”
“I guess this means we’re going shopping first.”
“Right. Shopping. Because every gay man is a fashionista just dying to make things pretty.” Renner’s tone was dry as he gestured to the abundance of paperwork on his desk. “Does it look like I can afford to take the afternoon off?”
Milo frowned. “It’s not the afternoon. It’s five o’clock.” As if on cue, the loud buzzer went off on the factory floor, signaling the end of the workday. “And we’re going bowling with the guys tonight, so hop to.”
Oh, no. Not happening. “I don’t know which guys you’re talking about—”
“Duke and Vaughn.”
His crack of laughter definitely wasn’t appreciated. “I’m not going bowling with anyone. Especially two guys who only tolerate me because they like my sister. Someone has to keep this company—”
“Running. I get it. And this pile of bricks will still be here tomorrow.”
“Pile of bricks.”
Milo came behind the desk and unhooked the strap of Renner’s leather briefcase from the back of the chair. “If you got to know them a little, they would probably like you.”
Renner snorted and tried to grab the briefcase away. “Probably.”
“Do you always repeat after the person who’s railroading you?” Milo winked at him. “And yeah. Probably. I’m still on the fence about liking you myself.”
Renner finally succeeded in snatching the bag away from its kidnapper. “Good to know.”
“That was a joke.” Milo moved closer, closer, until Renner was forced to stop gathering files and shoving them into the briefcase. Absolute stillness was necessary so he could concentrate on not inhaling a heaping lungful of Milo’s cologne. It was subtle, probably having worn off throughout the workday, but that only made way for his natural male scent, leaving a mixture of earth and something spiced. “I’m not on the fence about liking you. I’m firmly on one side.”
“Which side it that?”
Milo smiled, and Renner’s stupid, apparently masochistic heart warmed and expanded. “I’ll tell you after we go bowling. Think of it as an incentive.”
“I don’t care if you like me or not.”
“Yes, you do.”
He reached for his coffee and Milo snagged his wrist, holding it captive. “Enough with the caffeine. Don’t make me compare your health to my senior citizen father’s again.”
His brain took a spur-of-the-moment vacation. Or maybe pride was the explanation for drawing their joined hands to the small of Milo’s back. Roughly. Shoving him up against the desk with the use of his chest. A groan got stuck in his throat over the way Milo’s thighs flexed, his stomach hollowing to accommodate Renner’s belt. “I’m healthy as a fucking horse, and unless you want some good, hard confirmation on that, Bautista, I would refrain from comparing me again to your daddy.”
Whoa. He’d said way too much. Milo hadn’t breathed in at least twenty seconds, as far as he could tell. Oh, but then, he started breathing really fast. Like he’d just breached the surface after a deep-sea dive. “What does that mean?” He shifted a little, his thigh rubbing against Renner’s hard dick. Christ. “Shit. Okay. I know what that means. Are you—”
Renner released Milo—when had he grabbed him?—leaving him to slump a little on the desk, his surprise evident. “It doesn’t mean anything, except I don’t appreciate your constant reminders that I’m working too hard. Believe me, I’m aware.”
“Really? There seemed to be more.” Milo’s tongue swiped across his bottom lip again, like a taunt. “A lot more.”
Oh, for the love of God. Had his cock really just grown heavier with the insinuation that he was packing? Milo’s age was already rubbing off on him. Don’t think about rubbing. Refraining was difficult, though, when
Milo was still leaned back on the desk, his eyes just a touch hopeful, like he couldn’t help but want Renner to change his mind and climb on. Fuck. The guy was starved for his first experience with a man, that was painfully obvious, and not obliging Milo and showing him how good it could be? Agonizing.
But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t use that desperation to scratch the seriously itchy itch Milo had started in his belly, unreachable save that one method of scratching. Not when Milo could be with someone just as thirsty for life as he was. Someone he really liked. Someone who could offer him something beside a packed travel schedule, long hours, and a damaged aorta.
“First lesson, Bautista. Don’t read too much into every hard dick you come across going forward. Or you’re going to spend a lot of time confused.” He draped the strap of his bag across his chest. “I’m going to change my mind about shopping and bowling in three…two…”
“All right, already.” Milo slid off the desk and adjusted his own visible erection with a wince, and hell if that didn’t tempt Renner to kiss the lingering confusion off his face. Don’t even think about it. “Let’s go buy some jeans without holes, I guess.”
Chapter Six
Hot damn.
Milo tried to walk the normal way and leave the extra bounce out of his step, but it was hard. Kind of like his dick, which wouldn’t stop plumping up behind his security belt every time he thought of Renner shoving him into the desk. Okay, though. This was great. Take away the fact that it had been Renner doing the shoving—which was proving pretty difficult a feat—and he had his first hint at what the future might be like, if he paid attention to the signals his body and mind were giving off.
