Touch & Geaux (Cut & Run, #7)

by Abigail Roux

  “You,” Zane said, his voice thick. “You’d still be you.”

  Ty shook his head in a stubborn denial, but he kissed Zane again without offering any evidence to support his belief.

  When they broke apart, the bare honesty of what Zane wanted to say hurt him all over. But it was high time these things started being said. “Things have happened to us, to both of us, horrible things that changed us. If you want to tell me, I’ll listen, or if . . .” Zane swallowed hard. He knew that Ty had endured worse than he had, but there were dark spots in Zane’s past that he didn’t want to relive, much less tell anyone about. “If you want to know, I’ll tell you.”

  Ty’s hands slid over Zane’s hair and he patted him before kissing him again. The water was still pounding down on Ty’s back, running in rivulets down his face. “I want to know.”

  Zane nodded and slid his hands down Ty’s back to cup his ass, then slid one hand between them.

  Ty’s breath stuttered. He relaxed against Zane and kissed him again.

  Zane wrapped his hand around Ty’s cock, warm and wet and firm under his fingers. Zane had been hard since Ty had touched him, and he pushed against Ty’s thigh, moaning as he dipped his head for another kiss.

  Ty’s breaths came hard against Zane’s skin, gusting over his lips and warming his cheek as Ty pushed closer. Then his hands were gripping Zane’s arms hard and they separated, Ty holding him at bay in the bathtub. There was a familiar light in Ty’s eyes as he pushed him against the tile.

  Zane lifted his chin as he hit the cool, slick wall with a muffled thump. “God I love it when you drink.”

  Ty took one more rough kiss before letting his hands drag down Zane’s body. He sank to his knees at Zane’s feet. Zane’s head thudded back against the wall. His breath came out with a shudder as he watched.

  Ty didn’t waste time. He rarely did, not when Zane was already hard and begging for it. He gripped one of Zane’s hips with one hand, taking Zane’s cock in the other and pumping him as he let his lips bump against the head. He looked up, giving a teasing lick. Zane narrowed his eyes and reached for him, cupping his palm around the back of Ty’s head, tugging. Ty didn’t make him wait any longer, but he did force Zane to be patient as he slid his lips over Zane’s cock with agonizing slowness. Ty never did anything that slow unless he was trying to drive Zane insane.

  It was working.

  Zane curled the fingers of his free hand into a fist and tried to breathe evenly.

  Ty’s free hand splayed against Zane’s hip, and he finally, mercifully, dipped his head to take Zane all the way into his mouth. Zane bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on Ty’s tongue and the warm slide of his cock into Ty’s mouth. A clicking noise from the outer room filtered through his pleasure, like someone trying to use a key that wasn’t working. Zane glanced at the door to the bathroom, which they’d left wide open. Ty didn’t seem to care about any noises as he worked, trying to make Zane come as quickly and messily as possible—something he was singularly good at.

  Zane groaned and closed his eyes, forgetting the sounds. There was something too debauched about Ty on his knees, water streaming over hard muscle and smooth skin, Zane’s hard cock sliding between his lips, forcing them apart to find his flickering tongue. To top it all off, Ty met his eyes, then ducked his head forward, taking Zane into the back of his throat, burying his nose against Zane’s groin and pulling him close as if he couldn’t get Zane deep enough.

  Zane smothered a curse, and his gut clenched. He had no control around Ty; never had, never would. He took Ty’s head in both hands and pumped his hips, feeling the head of his cock forcing its way past Ty’s tongue to hit the back of his throat. He gave a plaintive grunt as Ty pulled back, tugging on Ty’s head until Ty let him thrust in again. How the hell he did that without gagging, Zane would never know. He’d been practicing, but he still couldn’t manage. What he did know was there was very little he enjoyed more than shooting a load into Ty’s mouth and watching him swallow it down. Ty always hummed when he blew him, and he moaned when he swallowed.

  He half bent over in reaction as the trembling started, and he grabbed at Ty’s shoulder as he started to come, teeth gritted.

  But Ty didn’t swallow this time. He pulled back just enough, holding Zane’s hip against the shower wall with one hand so Zane couldn’t chase his mouth, and he pumped Zane dry with the other hand, letting cum spurt all over his chin and neck. It hit Ty’s skin, and Zane could see it dripping down Ty’s throat, sliding off his lower lip. It just made Zane’s climax more intense, like he was marking his territory. He choked off a curse as the heat flooding him left him dizzy.

  Ty kept at it until there was nothing left but Zane’s whimpers, then he let Zane slide out of his hand and looked up at him, licking his lips and wiping his palm across his chin. Zane dragged his fingers along those lips before tapping under Ty’s chin, wanting him to stand.

  Ty climbed to his feet, diving into the kiss Zane had ordered with alarming obedience. He pressed against Zane, hips flexing as he delved into another, more demanding kiss. Zane could taste his cum on Ty’s lips. Ty was hard against him.

  “You are too fucking hot for your own good,” Zane gritted out.

  Ty made a frustrated sound into Zane’s mouth. “God, the things I want to do to you right now.”

  Zane nodded, biting at Ty’s full lower lip. “Do them.” He reached for Ty’s cock and squeezed.

  Ty’s hands found their way into Zane’s hair, and he continued to kiss him, holding him there by his wet curls as Zane stroked him. “Next time we do this, I’m bending you over that balcony,” Ty said. His voice was just as strained and taut as his body.

  Ty bit Zane’s lip, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough that Zane knew he was getting worked up.

  “C’mon, Ty. Let me see you come. So fucking gorgeous when you come.”

  “Jesus, Zane, stop talking,” Ty gritted out.

  Zane laughed. He heard another sound from the room and turned his head to glance out the door. “Did you hear that?”

  Ty growled low in his throat. “No.” He swiped at Zane’s cum, still sliding down his neck and chest, gathered it all into his palm, and replaced Zane’s hand on his cock with his own. Zane leaned back, expecting the kind of show that Ty was so good at, but then Ty tugged at his shoulder and turned him around. Zane’s chest hit the tile as Ty pressed against him from behind.

  “Fuck, Ty,” Zane gasped out as he realized what he was really going to get. “God, yeah.”

  Ty’s cock was already pushing at him, Ty’s lips on his neck, his body hard and wet against Zane’s. Then the head of his cock, slicked with Zane’s cum, pressed against the tight muscles of Zane’s ass. Zane pushed his hips back and Ty thrust up against him, the slick head sliding between Zane’s legs. He didn’t enter him, though he came close.

  Ty smacked a hand over Zane’s mouth and buried his face against Zane’s shoulder. His other hand wrapped around Zane’s chest. He drove his hips against Zane’s ass, using Zane’s own cum to slick the way, using Zane’s body for the friction he needed.

  Ty grunted against Zane’s shoulder and dragged his teeth over Zane’s skin, tightening his hold as he came. Zane could feel Ty’s cum sliding over his ass even as Ty continued to thrust against him. He was making a messy job of it as the water ran over them. It stole Zane’s breath and made his knees weak.

  Zane reached behind him, dragging his hands along Ty’s ribs. When Ty finally stopped moving, he let his hand slide from Zane’s mouth and pulled Zane’s head around into a slow, languid kiss.

  “Now go see what the hell that noise was,” Zane mumbled as soon as he was able.

  “Not exactly Casanova, are you?” Ty kissed him again, licking at his lips. “But if you insist.”

  He pushed away and left Zane in the shower to clean up. When Zane finally joined him, he found Ty standing at the foot of the bed, still dripping wet, looking at a stack of folded towels.

/>   “It was a maid?” Zane asked.

  “Looks like. Way to ruin the post-orgasm buzz with paranoia, Garrett.”

  Zane laughed. He stepped behind Ty and wrapped him up in the towel he had around his shoulders, pressing against Ty’s back. He kissed his neck. “Let me make it up to you then.”

  Zane hadn’t heard his real name spoken in almost six months. Two weeks after his wife’s funeral, Zane had begged for a new assignment, part of him hoping a change of scenery would make him want to kill himself less, and the other part hoping for an assignment so dangerous he wouldn’t have to do it himself. He’d been undercover in Miami ever since, nothing but pure luck and an overdeveloped sense of justice keeping him alive. He wanted to see these bastards go down, and he’d do whatever it took.

  He’d found it hard to sleep when he’d first arrived in Miami, a combination of on-the-job jitters and missing his wife so much it felt like his soul was dying. He’d begun drinking to combat the dreams.

  A few weeks after that, he’d started popping uppers to combat the hangovers, and sometimes even in a bid to mimic sobriety. He found that it worked for his cover, and it simultaneously dulled and sharpened his mind to the point that all he thought of was the case at hand, like a pen light for his brain. He would do anything to get the wife he’d lost, the life he’d lost, off his mind.

  His life had become a high-wire act, and every breath brought him closer to death. He had begun to place bets on what would kill him first: the drinking, the drugs, or the cartel. Tonight was a soiree, held to celebrate the success of a deal Zane had been active on closing. He’d also been active on sending the details to his handler, and he lived in fear of being found out.

  The rooftop garden in downtown Miami had been commandeered by the Miami boss, and no expense had been spared to entertain their new partners from Colombia. Alcohol and heroin flowed freely, mixed with multicolored designer drugs and neon blue drinks that looked like antifreeze and kind of tasted like it too. Expensive escorts, both male and female, roamed the crowd, offering their services.

  “Xander,” a man said as he approached Zane. Zane smiled and turned toward his boss, accustomed to the fake name. His boss had a woman on each arm, both smiling and beautiful, eyes raking up and down Zane’s frame. “I have your yearly bonus,” el Jefe said with a sideways leer at one of the women.

  Zane glanced at her, and his stomach turned at the thought of taking another woman to bed.

  “Gracias, Jefe. But no thank you.”

  “What is it?” el Jefe asked. “Her tits are perfect and her ass is sublime!” He smacked the escort’s ass to prove his point.

  Zane laughed and nodded, though his mind was still desperately churning.

  “Jefe, I think maybe I’m not his type,” the woman said with a pout.

  Zane was nodding before he could think twice, latching on to that excuse like a lifeline.

  El Jefe began laughing and slapped Zane’s shoulder. He dragged Zane along with him, taking him toward a corner where people sat drinking and laughing, some sprawled on the plush couches, others perched on the furniture, showing off their wares for anyone interested.

  “You pick your own prize, Xander! Have fun tonight, you deserve it!” el Jefe said as he left Zane there and returned to the two women he would be taking for himself.

  Zane watched him go, one eyebrow raised as he realized that nobody cared who he took to bed tonight as long as he didn’t rain on anyone else’s parade. He glanced toward the open bar, fully intending to drink himself into a stupor and pass out on one of the deck chairs around the pool.

  He caught a man’s profile in his peripheral vision and quickly looked back to find him. For a brief moment he would have sworn it was the man he’d seen in New Orleans all those months ago. When he caught sight of him again, he realized his mistake. The resemblance was striking, though, and as Zane stared, the escort caught his eye and gave him a slow smile.

  For the first time in months, that smile stirred something in Zane. He swallowed hard, recognizing the same feeling he’d noticed in New Orleans when the singer in the bowler hat had winked at him.

  The man was making his way through the crowd, eyes on Zane, smile still soft and inviting. Zane licked his lips as he drew closer, noticing the way he moved through the crowd, appreciating the roll of his muscular shoulders. Yeah, Zane was definitely attracted to him.

  The man stopped in front of him, and Zane stared, unable to get his mind to push past the drugs and alcohol clouding his thoughts.

  “Do I know you?” Zane finally asked.

  “Would you like to?”

  Zane nodded. The man reached out and took his hand.

  “Wait, so you picked out the guy in Miami because a dude in New Orleans winked at you the year before?” Ty asked, incredulous and almost offended by Zane’s story. They were sprawled sideways in the king-size bed, feet hanging off the edge.

  Zane draped his knee over Ty’s thighs, his fingers idly running through the fuzz on Ty’s chest. “You have your type, I have mine.”

  “My type is dark hair!”

  Zane barked a laugh. “Your type is a gun.”

  “Whatever, Zane.” Ty slid his arm under Zane’s neck and stretched, then pulled Zane closer to rest his head on Ty’s shoulder.

  Zane grinned, running his finger down the center of Ty’s chest. “You remind me of him too.”

  “Who, the escort?”

  “No. Well, yeah. A little. But I mean you kind of remind me of the guy in the bowler hat. Just about every guy I’ve ever been with has reminded me of him in some way.”

  Ty propped himself on his elbow and looked down at Zane, eyes narrowed. He seemed concerned. “Did you fuck me the first time because I reminded you of some random in a bar?”

  “Sort of,” Zane muttered. He reached to drag his hand up Ty’s arm, appreciating the slide of his muscles. Ty frowned harder. “Do you think you knew him?”

  Ty jerked. “What?”

  “Is that why you’re obsessing?”

  “I’m not obsessing.”

  “You are a little bit. You know who it was, don’t you?”

  “No,” Ty claimed as he pushed up.

  Zane grabbed for him, laughing. “Okay, fine, no need to get defensive. Did you fuck me the first time because I had a gun?”

  “Yes.” Ty leaned over and kissed him, then slid his leg between Zane’s, shifting his weight just enough to be on top of Zane again. “You had a gun. And knives. That’s a better reason than yours.”

  “Not really.” Zane pulled his knee up to knock it against Ty’s hip. “Because mostly it was that you were hard and wet and begging me to.”

  Ty grunted in protest, but Zane grabbed him and pulled him closer before he could turn away. He rolled him, pinning Ty beneath him to look down into his changeable eyes. “My type is you.”

  “Well,” Ty finally said with a small smile. “I guess I owe the dude from New Orleans a thank-you if he was the one that convinced you to like dick.”

  “I knew you’d see it my way.”

  Ty rolled his hips and pulled his knee up higher, pushing his hard body against Zane’s. They’d already used up what little energy they had left tonight, though, and no matter how Ty moved, he wasn’t going to convince Zane’s cock to join the party.

  Neither of them cared. They’d settled into a level of comfort with each other where simply curling up together and enjoying the warmth and familiarity was pleasurable.

  Zane rested his body on Ty’s. He could feel Ty relaxing under him, feel his attention wavering. He propped himself on his elbows and gazed down into Ty’s eyes with a small smile.

  “As soon as we’re done here, you’re going to go sit out on the balcony and smoke a cigar, aren’t you?”

  Ty blinked at him. “How’d you know that?”

  Zane lowered himself and cupped Ty’s cheek. “Because it’s how you mourn,” he whispered. “And I have a feeling that tonight you need to mourn.”

&nbs
p; Ty blinked rapidly and seemed to be fighting to swallow past a lump in his throat. “I never did say good-bye to him.”

  “I know.” Zane gave him a chaste kiss and then rolled off him. “I’m going to have a smoke with you. Then I’ll leave you to it.”

  Ty nodded, but he reached out to grab Zane’s arm and stop him. He pushed up onto his elbow. “Zane.” His voice was hushed and pensive. “Sometimes I’m not capable of expressing how grateful I am for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Ty put a hand to his own chest, visibly struggling to find the right words. “For your . . . So few people have ever understood the way I work. In here.” He tapped his chest. “Thank you for . . . your insight.”

  The words were sincere, but so unlike anything Ty usually said. Zane was struck dumb by the notion. He could only nod.

  Ty rolled out of bed, breaking the spell of the moment. Zane lay stunned for another few seconds as Ty pulled on a pair of sweatpants. Then he sat on the end of the bed, watching Ty, letting his words settle somewhere deep. His fingers rested on the pile of fresh towels, and his eyes were drawn to one of them. He didn’t know why it bothered him, but they were folded wrong, different from the others in the bathroom.

  “Jesus,” he whispered. Ty’s OCD was starting to rub off on him. He forced himself to get up and pull on his boxers and follow Ty to the balcony.

  “You owe me a story, you know,” he said as soon as he stepped out.

  “A story?”

  “Yeah. I told you one of mine, you have to tell me one of yours.”

  “None of mine are quite as lascivious as yours,” Ty mumbled as he settled into one of the chairs.

  “Humor me. Tell me about the Marine you said you got involved with.”

  “Nope.”

  “Ty!”

  “Nope, nope, nope.”

  “Come on! Please?”

  A smile spread across Ty’s face and he glanced sideways at Zane. He was teasing him, the bastard.

  “As you wish,” Ty drawled, amused.

  Zane brought out his pack of cigarettes, but Ty reached and placed a hand over them. Zane met his eyes, prepared to argue for his right to smoke while they were here, but then Ty pulled one of his cigars out and handed it to Zane instead.