Cover Up (9 page)

He kicked off his runners before grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge. Half the bottle disappeared in one gulp, and he leaned over the counter, panting. His legs wobbled like wet noodles, but he had run far and fast enough that he was sure to sleep through the night. He needed a decent night’s sleep.

With the rapid thump of his pulse still beating in his ears, he couldn’t hear a sound from the bedroom upstairs. There was no indication if the pair had fallen asleep or if they’d gone out. He’d gotten past the point of going out after ten at night unless he was looking to get laid, but Neil and Parker were plenty young enough to see ten as going out time rather than coming home time.

That alone was enough to make his shoulders slump. It shouldn’t matter that a low-level criminal had more energy and a better social life than he did, and maybe after he got a decent night’s sleep, he’d stop caring.

Ivan’s bed and a shower were the only things convincing him to climb the creaky stairs. Otherwise, he’d be happy to collapse naked on the couch. On the landing, he froze. He didn’t recall hearing the faint mechanical sound before. Edging closer to Parker’s closed bedroom door, the sound got a trifle louder. It sounded like… no. It couldn’t be. A vibrator? They couldn’t be still having sex, could they? Ivan dashed into his bedroom and shut the door. A wipe-down with a towel would have to do for tonight. He wasn’t leaving his room until morning.

The moonlight streaming into his room provided more than enough illumination such that he didn’t need to turn on the light. Within seconds, he’d pitched his sweaty clothes in the hamper and grabbed a towel to wipe away the worst effects of his run. He lay back on the bed, one arm behind his head, able to relax now that he couldn’t hear any of Parker’s sexscapade. The sweat drying on his scalp itched, but he ignored it. He could shower in the morning, once his muscles recovered from his run.

What kind of sex did Parker like? He didn’t get much of a sense from the short glimpse of the porn Parker had been so quick to turn off, but then, porn preferences didn’t always translate to bedroom preferences. Parker’s skin was smooth and made for licking. The shy smiles, so at odds with what Ivan expected from a drug dealer, said he’d probably react well to a few gentle sucks and nips around the ear and neck. Slowly he’d work his lips down, over the prominent collarbone that peeked out of Parker’s shirts. Would the flat discs of his nipples be the same rich peach as his lips, or would they require a bit of tonguing to bring out their color?

As his cock began to fill, he wrapped his fingers around it and tugged. Would Parker grip him firmly or tentatively? Would those long fingers be cool on his overheated skin or hot, like brands? Neil didn’t seem like a considerate lover—was there anything Parker had missed out on? Rimming, perhaps? What would those innocent eyes look like as he gazed up Parker’s lean body, bent almost in half, while he buried his tongue in Parker’s ass? Would Parker cream just from that? Would Ivan?

Ivan spat on his hand and pumped his now fully hard cock, twisting the tip a bit on each upward stroke. He had lube in his drawer, but even that took more energy than he had.

Would he ride out Parker’s orgasm with a tongue up his ass or would he suck down Parker’s dick, just to feel it flex against his tongue while he came? No. He wanted to see Parker shoot all over himself, helpless against the tide of orgasm; he wanted to watch every second.

Ivan gasped, and his back arched as his own orgasm exploded without warning, and he sprayed himself almost exactly as he’d imagined Parker spraying, although he pictured Parker without any chest hair. Panting, he used the towel he’d dropped beside the bed to wipe away his sticky cum. He’d be pissed at himself the next morning, but between the orgasm and the exercise, he was too blissed out to care.

As his eyelids drooped, he scanned his room one last time and sat up, sleep swept away in a flood of adrenaline. He flicked on the bedside lamp and got out of bed. His briefcase had been moved. Hadn’t it? Had Parker snuck into his room and searched it while he was out running? Peering at the desk, he tried to remember how he’d left it. Not one thing of Ivan’s would incriminate him, so a search would only confirm he was nothing more than the loser his undercover identity proclaimed, but it was a harsh reminder of the reality of his situation. He couldn’t let his guard down for a moment. Including while fantasizing about the man he was investigating. How unprofessional and idiotic could he get?

He turned off the light and lay back down on the bed, stiff, but not in a good way. Every time he closed his eyes, he thought he heard something move, or he’d glance at another part of the room, trying to compare it with his fuzzy recall of precisely how he’d left his things. The search should ultimately make him seem harmless, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d missed something that identified him as either cop or Ivan Bekker. Without any time to plan, he’d packed his own clothes, used his own duffel. Hell, he’d grabbed a bunch of his own books, because if he had time to read, it should be stuff he was interested in reading. Could he have missed a receipt with his name on it?

His pulse pounded, more rapid and fierce than at the peak of his run. Sleep was impossible, but this time he wasn’t disappointed. Sleeping led to nightmares, and it had been a miracle he’d not woken Parker with his shouts the past couple of nights. He swung himself out of bed, flicked on the light again, and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. Since he was up, he might as well see if there was anything damaging to his cover identity. He’d start by shaking out each and every book to make sure he hadn’t slipped a receipt or note between the pages. Tomorrow, he’d delve fully into his cover identity and get to know his new roommate.

P
ARKER
plunked down on the couch, apple in hand. Why had he let Neil chase him upstairs so early last night? He hadn’t had a chance to ask Ivan about groceries, and so he’d gone to the farmers market this morning, hoping to buy stuff Ivan liked too. Stupidly, he’d thought having a roommate might mean company running errands, or even just a split of errands, but they hadn’t discussed it yet. Parker didn’t know what was normal, but he likely shouldn’t expect company for errands. That was more in the boyfriend realm than roommate. Wasn’t it?

And the tiny bit of resentment that had flared at going alone? It was nothing against the thought of Ivan getting laid late last night, requiring him to sleep in. Probably everyone else in existence got laid on Friday nights while he’d gone to bed early with his contraption of doom. Pathetic.

In celebration of his patheticness, he was going to watch
Serenity
. Again. Neil wouldn’t be back until much later, assuming Parker saw him again this weekend, and he’d be long finished before Neil showed up to make fun of him. Neil said sci-fi didn’t get anyone laid, and to be fair, Neil certainly had more sex than Parker the geek, but how could you not love Mal? It was one of his favorite movies, and one his mother had even liked, despite her preference for murder mysteries.

He didn’t need to leave the house again until school on Monday, and maybe he just wouldn’t. He had plenty of movies he could watch. Maybe a
Firefly
marathon.

Five minutes into the movie and three bites into his apple, the stairs creaked. Parker tensed and stared fixedly at the screen, although his entire awareness was on the person coming down the stairs. What if Ivan had brought someone home last night? That was even worse than imagining him out on an overnight date. Should he introduce himself to her? Should he ignore her? Could he get away with pretending he was so engrossed in the movie that he didn’t notice? What was normal roommate protocol in this situation?

“Good movie?”

Parker jumped. “What? Oh, yes.” He forced his head to turn from the television. Ivan was alone—thank God—but he was also shirtless. His chest was stunning. Muscular and covered with a mat of hair a shade darker than the gold atop his head. Gray threadbare sweatpants draped Ivan’s package in such a way as to hint at shape and size without allowing Parker to discern any details.

Ivan cleared his throat, and Parker raised his eyes, cheeks beginning to burn. How long had he been staring at Ivan’s junk? No way could he have the “I’m gay, hope you don’t mind” discussion. Not after he’d just ogled the man like he wanted to eat him up. Well, Parker did want to eat him up, but admitting it was a surefire way to make the straight guy uncomfortable. Which wasn’t fair at all when he was in a new home.

“How are you?” Now that Parker was looking at Ivan’s face, the deep circles under his eyes attested to a lack of sleep, and likely not for the reason Parker had assumed. “Late night?”

Ivan shrugged. “In a manner of speaking.”

“Was it at least good?”

“I’m sure your night was much better.”

Parker barely held back a sardonic laugh. His night had been shit, but he at least had sense enough not to admit that.

“Couldn’t sleep after I got home from my run,” Ivan continued. “Don’t think I actually dropped off until well after dawn.”

Parker blinked. “You went running last night?”

“Yeah, I needed something to do and you were… uh… occupied with Neil.”

Ivan put a funny emphasis on the word “occupied.” Maybe he’d smelled Neil’s joint. “Running. I thought you were on a date.”

Ivan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because I’m such a catch.”

“You want something to eat? I went to the market this morning.”

“Like the St. Lawrence Market? You should have woken me. I would have gone with you. I love that place.” Ivan smiled and scratched his belly.

“Oh, I just went to the local farmers market, but we could go to the St. Lawrence Market next week.”

“It’s a date.”

The surge of pleasure those words caused was tempered by the knowledge Ivan had only used them as an expression, not because they were actually going on a date.

Ivan stepped far enough into the room to view the movie over Parker’s shoulder. “Watching movies all day?”

“Probably.” Parker shrugged. “I’ve got a paper to work on, but other than that, I’m all caught up.”

“Oh, good for you. Let me take a shower, and I’ll hang here, if that’s okay.”

What a stupid question. “Of course. We’re roommates.” Parker suppressed the happy little giggle that wanted to escape. Ivan didn’t need to know how much he wanted to hang out. His friends at school would have killed for Parker’s relaxed class schedule, but until Ivan had moved in, Parker had regretted not coming back in with a full course load. It had given him more time to think about how empty the house was. Now, though, it gave him plenty of time to make sure he was at home when Ivan was.

Ivan yawned, and Parker frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to bed?”

“What? No, I’m fine. It’s been a while since I could relax on the couch and watch movies. I’ll be done in a few minutes.” Ivan pounded upstairs. After a couple of doors slammed, the pipes in the walls rattled when Ivan turned the water on.

Slumping back into his seat, Parker tried to focus on Mal, but listening to Ivan shower, and picturing him there, superseded the sexy captain’s banter, a feat Parker hadn’t thought possible.

Should he grab snacks? Make Ivan breakfast? No, that was stupid. No way could he pass that off as “oh, I was making myself some…” because it was almost one, and Ivan already knew he’d been running errands this morning. Making breakfast for a man was different than sharing lunch or dinner, he was sure of it. More intimate. A boyfriend thing.

Parker was still debating with himself when Ivan pounded down the stairs, into the kitchen, and began rummaging around in the fridge.

“Hey, you got some great stuff. Probably not enough to last the week, but I can make a mean omelet with this. You want some?”

“Oh, I’ve got my apple.”

Ivan stuck his head into the doorway. “An apple? You need more for lunch than that. An omelet works for my breakfast and your lunch.”

Parker’s stomach growled. The apple was supposed to be breakfast and lunch, but he still wanted more. Ivan was a great cook, and he was hungry. Too bad this truly was a case of “oh, I was making myself some…” but Parker could live with that. The most he got from Neil was an offer to add in an extra dish and an egg roll when they ordered Chinese, but Parker always ended up paying for both of them. And usually Neil couldn’t sit still long enough to watch an entire movie together, much less consider spending the day doing so.

“Um, okay, sure, thanks.”

Ivan worked his magic in the kitchen and less than twenty minutes later was seated in the chair beside the couch after placing a plate of eggy goodness in front of each of them.

He wanted Ivan to sit beside him, but then he’d be tempted to snuggle, and that would never do.

A
LICIA
waved at him across the sparsely populated lecture hall. Parker smiled and made his way over to her. He wasn’t sure what sadist scheduled a statistics course three times a week at nine in the morning, but it made Mondays difficult to wake up to. On the other hand, he and Alicia had bonded the first day over the hideousness of stats and the summer semester.

“So, tell me.” Alicia grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and pulled, barely giving him enough time to slide into his seat.

“Tell you what?” A tiny smirk twitched the corner of Parker’s mouth.

“Come on. You didn’t even text me about how it went with the new roommate.”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who played hooky for a week to go to Mexico with my boyfriend. And you certainly didn’t text me with any details from that.”

Alicia rolled her eyes, but blushed. “Hey, if someone had opened their cottage this year, maybe we wouldn’t have had to go all the way to Mexico.”

“Oh, yeah, like my cottage has anything on Mexico.” Although the truth was, he wasn’t able to face the cottage yet, which was the reason he’d decided not to open it up this year.

“I wouldn’t know, would I?”

Parker opened his mouth to continue their banter, but the professor strode into the class, brows drawn together in a frown, ready to start. If it weren’t for the perpetual scowl, the man might be good-looking, but his temperament wasn’t any improvement either. His students learned the first day to shut up and pay attention or they’d regret it. Of course, it was statistics, so regret was inevitable. Too bad it was a required course. Even the humanities version for psychology and sociology majors like himself was difficult.