Swift stayed seated. “Max, I have to talk to you.”
“Something we can’t talk over while we eat?”
“Indigestion guaranteed.”
Max took a closer look, scrutinizing Swift’s face. He slowly sat down again. “Okay. Shoot.”
His heart was hammering with something weirdly close to panic. Swift made himself go on, made himself speak calmly. “I neglected to tell you last night that I’d seen Tad Corelli earlier. In the afternoon. After my classes were finished. In fact, I loaned him the keys to my place on Orson Island.”
Max didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t even blink. He was so still, Swift wondered if he’d heard.
He opened his mouth to ask, but Max finally said in a voice stripped of any emotion, “You didn’t think that was something you ought to mention?”
“Yes. But…I wanted to talk to him first. I wanted to convince him to give himself up.” Swift watched Max reach for the phone. “He’s not there now.”
“And you know that how?”
“I went out there this afternoon. There’s no sign that Tad ever arrived at the bungalow.”
“You… Jesus fucking Christ.” Max let the handset drop back in its cradle. He stared at Swift. “Are you
“You knowingly,
“I didn’t know he was a suspect when I offered him the use of the bungalow.”
“You sure as hell knew after I told you last night.”
“I’m sorry,” Swift said. “I acted on instinct. Maybe a bad one.”
“Maybe?
“Don’t.” It was enough to shut Swift up. Max’s face was white, his eyes blazing with fury. He looked like a stranger. A stranger Swift would not want to get on the wrong side of.
“Max—”
“Not one fucking word more, Swift.”
But there was always room for one word more, right? Especially this word. Besides, Swift had always been so very bad at following rules.
“I’m sorry, Max,” he repeated.
Max stared at him as though Swift had been hand delivered by Martians. As though Swift were an alien creature that Max needed to exterminate—as soon as he figured out whether to use bullets or pesticide.
“Yeah?” Max made a funny sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Not as sorry as you’re going to be.”
The hair rose on the back of his neck. Swift searched the hard, implacable planes of Max’s features. Max wasn’t a guy for idle threats. “Are you…? Am I…?” He wasn’t even sure what question to ask. He knew that expression although Max had never worn it before—not for Swift. It was the expression that said,
It was an expression he’d have done anything to keep from seeing on Max’s face.
Almost anything.
Swift steadied his voice and got out, “Am I…under arrest?” He tried to say it without emotion, but he had at long last reached a point in his life where he had something to lose. A number of things, in fact, that he didn’t want to lose. Wasn’t sure he could survive losing. Arrest meant losing them all.
Max didn’t seem to hear the question. He was on his feet again, moving into action, speaking under his breath as he grabbed the phone. Tight, fierce words. “Stupid, arrogant, irresponsible, crackbrained…” He jabbed a couple of buttons and then paused. Fastening that lightless gaze on Swift’s face, he said, “Get the fuck out of my office. Get out before I do something we’ll both regret.”
Swift was up and to the door when Max threw after him, “You realize this is probably going to cost you your job?”
Swift had no answer. Or maybe the answer was in his face. Max turned his back on him and snapped his orders into the phone.
Matt’s trying hard to be supportive, but it’s tough when every time he tries to get Chris to open up, the man shuts down tighter than a live clam. Maybe it’s best to hide his hurt and back off. Yet as Chris’s fruitless search for work wears on, Matt begins to wonder if his lover will ever come around.
As the tension between them reaches breaking point, Chris faces the fact that it could be the end of an era for him and Matt. Unless one sweet idea can turn his mounting troubles into a fresh-cut path back to the arms of the one man who makes him whole.
Life, Love and Lemon Cookies:
Chris was taking the second batch of cookies out of the oven when Matt shuffled back into the kitchen, looking wary as a rabbit in a kennel. “Hey.”
“Matt.” Setting the baking stone full of cookies on the stove, Chris pulled off his oven mitts, hurried to Matt and wrapped both arms around him. He rested his forehead on Matt’s, savoring the feel of Matt’s body pressed against his and the warmth of Matt’s palms on his hips. “I’m so sorry, love. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s all right. I shouldn’t have pushed you to talk when you just wanted some space.” Matt’s lips quirked into a wry smile. “I know cooking is your security blanket. I guess it just bothers me when I know damn well you’re not okay and you pretend you are.”
Chris frowned. “Do I do that?”
“Not a lot, no. But sometimes. When you don’t understand how you feel. You’re kind of a control freak that way.” Matt pulled back enough to gaze into Chris’s eyes. His expression was unusually serious. “I know this thing about The Falls hit you hard. I just want to help.” He raked his fingers through Chris’s hair and traced the shell of Chris’s ear with his thumb. “Just talk to me.”
Chris shook his head. “Honestly, I’m not sure how to feel right now. I don’t have a job anymore. After fifteen years at The Falls, I’m out of work.”
Matt stroked his fingertips down Chris’s neck. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ve worked since I was fourteen.” Chris laid a hand on Matt’s cheek. “I don’t know
The big blue eyes softened in sympathy. Slipping one arm around Chris’s neck and settling the other hand on his rear, Matt tilted his head upward and covered Chris’s mouth with his own.
Chris couldn’t say the response was unexpected, and he certainly couldn’t pretend he didn’t want it. Nevertheless, fear and worry nagged at the back of his brain in spite of the baking-induced calm.
“Come on, babe,” Matt whispered against his lips. He shoved his hand down the back of the soft drawstring pants Chris had been slouching around the house in for the past few days and squeezed his ass. “Let it go. Just for a little while.” Matt trailed kisses down Chris’s throat and dug his tongue into the place that always made Chris shiver. “Let me make you forget about everything except getting your cock up my ass.”
A firm thigh nudged between Chris’s legs. Matt’s hips rolled, and Chris felt the swelling hardness behind the zipper of Matt’s jeans. He pulled Matt closer, baring his neck for more sharp little nips and delicate kisses. “You’re so crude.”
Matt chuckled with Chris’s skin caught between his teeth, let go and licked at the place he’d bitten. “Your mouth says
hot
were
“Fuck the cookies.”
A shove of Matt’s hand sent Chris’s pants slithering to his ankles, and he gave up. He went for Matt’s fly and flipped open the button. “Even
“You have no one to blame but yourself.” Chris undid Matt’s zipper, pushed his jeans and underwear out of the way and tugged on the stainless-steel ring piercing the head of his cock. “Get undressed, my darling.”
Matt shimmied out of his jeans, kicked them aside and tore his long-sleeved T-shirt over his head. He let it drop inside out onto the kitchen floor. Grinning, he slipped his hands beneath Chris’s sweatshirt to caress his bare skin. “Now you. Take this off.”
Chris obeyed, letting his shirt join Matt’s on the floor. He stepped free of his pants and pulled Matt’s naked body into his arms. Chris ran his palms up and down Matt’s bare back while they kissed. God, he loved the feel of Matt’s skin beneath his hands. Loved the way Matt arched into his touch, his moans low and sweet, his fingers threading into Chris’s hair and digging bruises into the muscles of his shoulder.
Six years and change after the first time they’d made love, their mutual passion hadn’t diminished. Chris loved that best of all.
When Matt broke the kiss and tried to turn around—no doubt to bend himself over the counter—Chris got a double handful of luscious ass and hung on tight. “Don’t move.”
“But, don’t you…” Matt’s breath stuttered when Chris rocked against him again, creating a mind-melting friction between their cocks. “Oh fuck, Chris.”
“Mmm.” Chris buried his face in the curve of Matt’s neck and breathed in his familiar scent. “I want you like this.” He moved his hips, rubbing the head of his prick against Matt’s. “Just like this.”
He couldn’t have said why he felt such a strong need to hold Matt while they brought each other off, to kiss him and look into his eyes and feel his heart beating, but Matt seemed to understand. With a swift, brilliant smile, he pulled Chris’s hips tighter to his and leaned in for a kiss.
The two of them hadn’t done anything as simple as rubbing off on each other in quite a while. Right now, with Matt’s cock solid and hot against his and Matt’s mouth bleeding hungry little noises into his own, the part of Chris’s brain still functioning wondered why not. Surely nothing had ever felt as perfect as Matt’s hands on his skin, Matt’s tongue stroking his, Matt’s body pressed close while the fire built inside him.
The bottom line is, Scott has only a small window of time to treasure every moment with his lover. In the not-too-distant future, real life will come knocking and he’ll be forced to return to his isolated existence.
Inevitably, a shadow from Scott’s past edges too close for comfort. Yet Scott discovers his plan to cut and run isn’t as simple as it sounds. Especially when Rory—and everyone else in Wolf Town—seems determined to convince him that holding on will cause a lot less damage than letting go.
Push Pull:
Rory woke to Scott struggling in his sleep. This happened occasionally and a couple of times Rory had caught a flailing elbow in the ribs because he hadn’t warned Scott before he reached for him.
“Scott, wake up, baby.” Ready for any response, Rory touched Scott’s arm. Scott lunged to sitting, pulling in a loud, panicked breath. “It’s me.”
Recognition came immediately, as revealed by the relaxation of Scott’s shoulders. Rory wrapped an arm around him, and Scott sank into the embrace, face resting on Rory’s shoulder. He placed a hand on that hot cheek and Scott mumbled, “I don’t want to go.”
Rory frowned. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Scott clutched him tighter, and Rory smelled his distress.
“Oh, Scott.”
Scott shook his head against him. “It’s fine, I’m fine.”
“I know you’ll
Rory didn’t quite get why Scott cared about nudity to the extent he did, but the why of it didn’t matter. It just was. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Here, drink.”
Scott gulped down another glass of water, then padded off to the bathroom. Rory retrieved some orange juice and more Tylenol.
It took Scott a moment to realize that the orange juice and Tylenol was for him.
“It’s been four hours, you can take another dose.” Rory pointed out the instructions he’d carefully read on the bottle, after receiving similar instructions from Teo. Once Scott swallowed the pills, Rory frowned. “You should have told me the house was too cold for you. I didn’t know that.”
“I can always wear a sweater. That usually does the trick.” Scott tried a grin, but it didn’t quite work. “I don’t like being such a burden.”
Rory just shook his head, though the words upset him. He felt like he hadn’t been seeing Scott clearly for a while. Was
Rory lay down, tugging Scott back to spoon him, and Scott arranged his body so they touched as much as was possible, legs tangled. Rory wondered how Scott’s feet could be cold when the rest of him was so hot.
“You’re too good to me,” Scott said wonderingly, and it felt like a knife twisting in Rory’s gut, because Scott meant it.
“Not true. I’m going to do better, much better.”
“Couldn’t be better,” Scott muttered.
Rory kissed the back of his neck. “Hush now. Sleep.”
Scott gave a soft grunt and promptly did exactly that. An unprecedented occurrence. It took Rory a good half hour to fall asleep himself.
The weekend passed in a bit of a haze. Scott mostly felt exhausted and feverish. He was embarrassed by Teo’s second doctor visit and Rory’s solicitousness, but didn’t have the strength to do much about it.
Fortunately by Monday morning he felt more himself. Not well enough to work, so he called in sick and they got a replacement. However, it took some effort to convince Rory that he should go off to work and Scott would be okay by himself.