Melting Point (8 page)

“Like mine?” Brady threw out, knowing that despite testing every single dish that went through his kitchen, he was in pretty good shape.

“Yeah, 'cause you're such a pudge. Just sayin' that you better love me now while I'm hot.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“I'll love you while you're hot.”

Gage's eyes widened to the diameter of the plates on the table.
Fuck, Smith, too much, too soon
. Or just too much, period. Funny, sexy, good-time Gage wasn't looking for anything serious, but hell if Brady had never been more clearheaded about what he wanted. Waking up to this man's sunshine smile, doing their bit for the environment by sharing showers, stealing kisses while they cooked together. He wanted Gage Simpson, had pretty much crashed in love the minute the guy swaggered into his restaurant kitchen.

Those sparkly blue eyes continued to stare from across the table, demanding Brady explain himself. Forward or retreat. “And as soon as you get squishy, Gage, my adoration for you will evaporate.”

Gage laughed. A disappointed laugh? A relieved one? A who-the-hell-do-you-think-you-are one?

No, Golden, I didn't just tell you that I loved you
 . . . except maybe I did.

Moving along. Brady cleared the lump of idiocy from his throat. “So what's for dessert? You covered with whipped cream, I assume.”

“Must be an age since you've been seduced. Whipped cream is
sooo
passé. These days all the best seductions use crème anglaise.”

“Excuse my ignorance.”

Gage stood, pulled off the apron, and held out his hand. “Good guess, though, because you're looking at dessert. Only you can have it any way you want.”

Glory be.
Brady took a moment to send up a prayer in gratitude as he reached for Gage, and all he could think was:
my hot boyfriend is holding my hand.

Gage had done a hell of a lot more salacious things to Brady, but right now, this was the thing that was making Brady's heart beat so hard it might leap out of his chest. That it was Gage, the man who made him feel like anything was possible—well, nothing had ever felt this right.

Gage led him down the hallway toward the bedroom. As they reached the entryway, Brady's eyes popped out on stalks—holy shit. The bedroom was lit by a fuckton of candles.

“When did you do this?” Code for:
How long have we
been sitting here with the risk of the loft going up in an incendiary ball of flame around our ears?

Gage gave that cheeky, irrepressible grin. “I lit them while you were calling your check-in to Javier, Mr. Control Freak. Don't worry, fire is my business. And it's not as if you have any soft furnishings here that could catch fire.”

For true, it was a bit Spartan. But he didn't have much time to dwell on the disaster that hadn't happened because Gage was undoing his sling and pulling at his shirt.

“I think it's about time you fucked me properly, Brady.”

chapter nine

B
RADY'S EYES TURNED MOLTEN
with hunger upon hearing Gage's offer, and Gage stepped forward and took advantage with a kiss, slow, wet, and deep. Brady let out an encouraging moan as Gage swept his tongue with possessive strokes in the heaven of Brady's mouth. He tasted so good, all man. His man.

Sex for Gage had always been about the present. Who he wanted to get off with now, who could hold his interest long enough to earn a repeat performance. He had enough self-awareness to admit he used sex to soften the occasional bouts of pain and sadness in his life. It felt good, and for a while after, so did he.

But since meeting Brady, Gage had not looked at one other guy with any intimate intent (flirting with Eli Cooper did not count). He could fool himself into thinking that Brady's resistance had made the chase sweeter and the orgasms a worthy reward. But that wasn't just it. It might have started as a challenge, then provided a much-needed distraction from the worries over his mom, but now it was this sharp-edged thing that Gage couldn't imagine recovering from. Intimacy with Brady, while hard-won, was a million times better than his previous bang-and-bolt encounters.

He wanted to take it deeper.

They helped each other strip, not speaking, just letting the moment roll them along. Gage coasted his hand over that broad chest, sculpted, tatted, and heaving. He wanted to soothe Brady, get him used to his touch, because what was coming would be the most connected experience they had shared. He brushed fingertips over Brady's scars, the rough terrain of a thousand hurts.

Brady sucked in a breath.

“Do you know how sexy you are to me, Brady? How every smile and laugh I win from you feels better than any orgasm you could give me?”

Brady's eyes flooded with dark emotion. “Sometimes I can't believe you're here.”

“Believe, Brady. I'm not going anywhere.”

He maneuvered Brady to the bed and lay down beside him. Then he used his lips and hands to worship this hero's body. He sucked on his nipples, grazed those bumpy battle wounds, gained his trust with every glance of his lips.

Gage held his palm out to Brady to lick—which he did on a lusty groan—then started stroking his jutting cock. Brady tilted his hips into Gage's fist.

“Gage . . . need . . . need your mouth.”

Not content to wait for a response, Brady dragged Gage's mouth to his in a raw, consuming claim. Gage continued with his rough stroke, palming Brady's hard length, loving the power he felt as it enlarged in his hands.

Gage didn't bottom much. As in hadn't done it since experimenting with what he liked in his teens. Giving himself to someone like that implied a depth of connection he had never wanted to indulge. Now he wanted full possession, the kind you get from one man inside another. He wanted to surrender everything to Brady and revel in the glory of Brady taking control by losing it in the best way possible.

Inside Gage.

He took care of sheathing Brady, then pushed him gently to his back. “Think this'll work better if I'm on top.”

“You don't want to be . . .” Brady paused. “Fucked from behind?” The way he said that sent Gage's heart into a lurch.

“Nope. Along with raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, seeing your face when you come, Chef, is one of my favorite things.”

That drew a laugh from his guy, and Gage leaned down and kissed that rare thing, Brady Smith's smiling mouth.
Better than any orgasm.
The kiss tasted different. Joy always did.

The smile melted away as they took the next steps. Gage uncapped the lube and spread it over Brady's hand. Straddling Brady's hips, Gage positioned himself for the easiest reach and grasped the headboard for balance. In the glow of the candlelight, Brady's eyes turned as dark as a pocket as he slid a slippery finger over Gage's ass, teasing at the entrance. This was the best part, that moment of anticipation when the pleasure ceiling was limitless. Gage trembled with the excitement and—
oh fuck,
that first touch to his hole made his thighs shake.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

Dreamy possibility turned to ecstatic reality when Brady worked his way in to the first knuckle. Closely followed by the second. Sliding, stroking, stretching.

Those magical digits. Gage had known it would be good, but a five-star chef with the tools of his trade pumping in and out? God, that was amazing. Brady scissored his fingers, getting Gage ready for more, for the girth of Brady's cock. Twisting his wrist, Brady rubbed against his prostate and Gage's brain started to splinter.

“Brady, that's so fucking good.”

“Yeah,” Brady grunted. “You're—you're tight.” Anticipatory pleasure joined forces with concern in those words. Brady's thick erection throbbed against Gage's thigh, demanding attention, foreshadowing what was to come. “Gage, are you sure you want this? I might hurt you.”

“You can't hurt me, Brady.” No one could. He had built a wall of invincibility around him and kept it reinforced with his sunny good humor and attitude of don't-give-a-fuck. And right now, Brady needed this. Gage could give it to him, even if Brady was the biggest he'd ever seen and he'd be holding his breath while that sucker worked its way in.

Brady's fingers slipped out, grasped Gage's hips. Gage lined himself up and pushed down on Brady's shaft, gently at first, taking Brady in slowly. This wasn't so bad, just a feeling of pressure that he could
so
handle. Another push and Brady eased past that ring of resistant muscle until—
oh shit, the burn.
Not
quite
as pleasant as those thick fingers. Gage withdrew and somehow that was worse, the drag on his ass muscles, before he slid down that thick length again.

“You okay?” Brady asked, his free hand digging into Gage's hip, staying his motions.

“Yeah, just . . . let's take it slow.”

And then he couldn't speak anymore, just stroke in, stroke out, each pump pushing him deeper. The stretch was unreal, the sensation of being completely filled unlike anything he had ever experienced. An aching burn flooded his ass, and Gage prayed for that moment when it turned sweet.
It had to get better, it had to turn sweeter,
fucking hell,
it had to,
and,
oh, God,
within seconds it happened. Brady's cockhead rolled against that perfect spot inside Gage, and
yes, there it was.
No pain now, just a sensory overload that radiated everywhere. He could usually never come from fingers inside him or without some other friction, but hell if his body had forgotten that pesky detail.

Coming like this would be entirely possible.

Brady took over, and even with his arm in a sling, his strength as he fucked from below was awe-inspiring. Gage leaned in, his hand clutching the headboard, angling for a better view. They both watched the spot where their bodies connected, riveted by that thick, erotic slide.

Brady continued to thrust, long, hard, consuming, and claiming every inch inside Gage.

“Your ass, Gage—so tight—so good. Fuckin' love it.”

His eyes locked onto Gage, the ecstasy in his expression making his mouth hard with lust. But there was more in their sealed gazes. There was the pure intimacy of
looking
at someone. Truly seeing him and knowing that this was the person you were meant for.

Getting more comfortable with the sensation of invasion, Gage squeezed around that thick shaft. The groan he dragged from his man's throat was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. Nothing beat this feeling of having the man you loved deep inside you, his body becoming one with yours on every blistering stroke.

Sex with someone you love—who the fuck knew?

He hadn't missed Brady's slip of the tongue earlier over dinner.
I'll love you while you're hot,
followed by that panicked look of
busted
. Gage could wait. He had untold reserves of patience.

But not where his pleasure was concerned. Their mouths united in a crash, a precursor to needing every other part of them to be joined. Chests, hips. Hearts. Considering the man had once had reservations about kissing, he had come a long way. This was a kiss Gage would never forget as Brady poured every ounce of his usually tightly reined emotion into Gage.

Brady broke away. “I think—
fuuuck,
I need
to come, Gage.”

“Let go, baby. I've got you.”

Brady lurched up, shuddered, and even with the condom, Gage could feel the pulse of his orgasm spurting inside him. And with it, his heart grew to ten times its normal size. Yeah, this was the real deal for sure. Gage was all in.

Only then did he come in a hot, wild, jerky mess all over his beautiful boyfriend's body.

chapter ten

M
OANS, LOW AND KEENING,
woke Gage up, and it took him a moment to figure out that the noise was coming from Brady.

“No,” he moaned.

The dim glow of a streetlight spilling through the window caught beads of sweat as they coursed down Brady's temples.

“Brady, it's okay.”

No response, just a further exhortation to whoever was messing with him in Dream Land to get the fuck away.

Gage turned to face him fully and rested a palm on Brady's good shoulder. With no warning, and with the crack-whip force of a lightning strike, Brady shot up straight, cupped Gage's throat, and squeezed. His black eyes flew open, unseeing, and as Gage instinctively withdrew, Brady's hand tightened in reflex. Not a killer grip just yet, but sure as hell getting there.

“What do you want?” he snapped in a voice that didn't sound like Brady. Or vaguely human.

“It's Gage.”

“Who?”

“Gage. Your guy.”

Blinking once, twice, Brady unhinged his paw from Gage's throat.

“Fuck . . . I'm . . . what the fuck are you doing here?”

Gage resisted the urge to rub his throat where Brady had squeezed. “You were having a nightmare.”

Brady scrubbed a hand across his face, swiping at his sweaty brow. Several tense moments passed before he spoke. “I wasn't supposed to fall asleep.”

So that confirmed it. Brady had been staying awake whenever Gage slept over. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Just stupid shit.”

“Got a PhD in stupid shit.”

Nothing but bruising silence, Brady's typical MO of holding on to each word like it was a precious jewel. Gage hauled in a breath. “Have you talked to anyone about what you went through? Gotten professional help?”

“It's standard on the debrief.”

So six years ago, back when he was dragged out of that dungeon in A-stan. Gage would bet the farm the stubborn shit was not getting any help now.

He leaned over and switched on the nightstand light. “I know you don't catch any z's when I'm here. You stay awake all night like you're on guard, but tonight you've finally managed to fall asleep because you're completely fucked out.”

Brady glowered. “I don't sleep because there's a chance I'll hurt you. Which is exactly what happened.” He hopped out of the bed, his hand rubbing his forehead like he could scrub away the horror of what just happened.

“I'm a steel-ass, strong-as-shit, built-to-fuck firefighter. You're not gonna hurt me.”

“I almost throttled you!”

Gage laughed it off, though he'd be lying if the thought didn't make him uneasy. “Consider it foreplay.”

Not funny, if the look of Brady's face was anything to go by. Now he stood before Gage, naked, scarred, tatted. Gorgeous. Fury at himself radiated off him in waves.

Well, Gage could do pissed as well. “Maybe you should have told me about your sleeping problem so we could work something out.”

“I wanted you here. I'd rather never sleep again than not have you beside me.”

God, that was so sweet, but sweet didn't amount to practical, not while Brady was suffering.

“You can talk to me, Brady. I'm not nearly as self-absorbed as people think I am.”

Something flared in Brady's eyes. Something hot and knowing that said
there would be no need for talking, honey, because that's not what we're doing here, is it?
and Gage was ashamed at the warmth in his chest that spelled relief. Just like when he found out that his mom had returned to her shadowy netherworld. He'd offered his shoulder, but when push came to shove, he wasn't sure he was strong enough to handle Brady's truth. It was one thing to hear about it secondhand from Eli, read some distant news reports. Getting in the emotional dirt with the guy presented a whole set of complications Gage could do without right now.

Sex he could do. Deep wasn't really in his wheelhouse.

Brady seemed to sense Gage's hesitation. He reached for him and Gage went like the coward he was. He slanted his mouth over Brady's and it was good, so fucking good, and if it could always be like this, Gage would have risked a million nights with the threat of Brady's hand on his throat.

But that was compromise, taking the easy way out and burying the shit in the litter box. This was the guy Gage loved, and hand to God, how he loved him.

Loving someone meant you sat with them even when they didn't remember how much they'd hurt you because you were born of their flesh and that had to mean something. Loving someone meant you'd lay down your life for your foster brothers and pain-in-the-ass sister because blood didn't matter when you were chosen to be a Dempsey. And loving someone meant you pushed for what he needed—for what you both needed—because together you could conquer anything.

Breaking the kiss, he gentled Brady back and ran a hand over his scars. On his temple and the side of his face. On his torso covering the right side of his rib cage. He came to rest over his heart, where the scars were hidden but no less damaging.

“How did you get these?”

“You know the gist. Our illustrious mayor's story was big news a few years ago.”

“That's just the version that makes Eli Cooper look good.”

Brady spoke in a quiet, dangerous voice. “It's not like the other marks on my body. I didn't choose it.”

“Doesn't make it any less significant. Of all the brands on your skin, I'd say these are the most important ones of all. And now I want to hear about them in your own words.”

B
RADY GLARED AT GAGE,
willing him to back down. To just let it go. As long as they could worship each other's bodies by oh-so-flattering candlelight, why make things complicated? But this strong version of Gage wasn't going to give in to Brady's scowl.

“This was a mistake.” Grabbing his jeans, Brady stabbed a leg in each one and dragged them on with jerky motions of we're-not-talkin'-about-this.

Gage pulled on his briefs and rounded the bed to stand before him. “Maybe the fantasmic sex has brought all these emotions you're not ready for to the surface, but you're going to have to stop being a fuckin' baby and deal.”

Dude didn't get it. Brady shot up, jeans still unbuttoned, his cock hardening with the adrenaline. He lay his forearm across Gage's chest and muscled him back to the dresser, just so he was clear on the strength he could only control when he was awake.

“You're not listenin'. Five minutes ago, I gripped your throat and squeezed because I thought you were going to kill me. Every night, I wake up, fighting them off, thinking this is the night I get it done. Do what I wasn't able to do six years ago.”

Gage put his hand over Brady's forearm and stroked it, like he would a cornered animal.

“What couldn't you do?”

“Put a bullet in his head.”

Brady had no doubt Gage was braver than anyone he knew. He came from a family of kick-ass firefighters, a brotherhood of fire that had instilled courage and sacrifice. Every day he put his life on the line to help others. Telling this man he admired so much how he had failed and watching his respect fade would kill Brady. Yet, it was precisely what needed to happen.

“I can't sleep with you in my bed because I might hurt you. I can't fuck you because I might hurt you. I can't—” He waved off the rest, but the way Gage's face fell said he knew how it finished.

I can't love you because . . . I'm a fucking pussy.

“What happened? Tell me. Let me help you.”

“I didn't kill him.”

“Who?”

Brady sat down on the bed, scrubbed a hand across his mouth. “The leader. He was the worst, the one with the electrodes and the acid and all the ways to make you scream like a little girl. It was day six and they were gettin' nothin' out of us. Just pokin' at us for sport. They were goin' to kill us soon. You could feel it in the air. By that point I basically looked like an extra in a slasher movie from everythin' they had done to me. Still, I thought I'd have enough strength to finish it when the time came. Adrenaline would kick in, y'know?”

Gage nodded dumbly, his eyes so dark the pupils absorbed all that sparkly blue.
Tough, Golden. You wanted to hear this.

“Eli had figured out a weakness the day before, one of them who left his gun lying around. It happened so fast that I had to rewind it ten times in my head before I realized what had gone down. Eli got to the gun and six seconds later, he'd taken out two of them and had the leader incapacitated with a shoulder shot. Oswald had nothin' on him. He saved our lives, made it so we could book right outta there. He could've killed the main motherfucker, but . . .”

“But what?”

“He left him for me.”

Brady couldn't look at him for the next part. The chill that grabbed the space around his heart was creeping glacially through his veins. So strange when all he could remember was the desert heat and the warmth of Haynes's blood as it pumped out pints through Brady's fingers.

“Eli placed the gun in my hand. I was shakin', could barely stand, could barely hold it up. He told me to do it. The guy's lying there, staring at me with all this hate against me and America and God knows what, and the satisfaction of taking the shot . . .” He forced out a breath. “Eli tried to give me that because he knew I'd be fucked if I didn't finish it myself.”

Gage had gone chalk white. “What happened?”

“I couldn't do it. My fingers locked up, but maybe it was my brain. And then Haynes, my staff sergeant . . .”
Shit shit shit.
“My staff sergeant Haynes got too close. The leader wasn't as weak as we thought and he had a knife. Haynes aimed a kick at his head, got his femoral artery sliced open for his trouble.” That dumbass jarhead. All he had to do was stay out of range, let Brady handle it. Let his CO finish the job. Practically home free and a split-second hesitation on Brady's part had elevated the clusterfuck to DEFCON 1 levels.

“As soon as that knife landed in Haynes's leg, Eli grabbed the gun and did what I should have done, right between the eyes. Haynes bled out in three minutes.” His screams stopped after two, but continued in Brady's head for six years. “Eli carried me and another guy out of there.”

Fucking Eli. He'd thrown Gage in his path because he thought Brady just needed to get laid to get cured. Well, he'd had great sex with a gorgeous guy and he was still as messed up as ever. Actually, he was worse off, because now he didn't have just himself to worry about when he closed his eyes. He had Gage.

He met Gage's horrified blue gaze. “In six years, I've never wanted anyone near me until I met you. Back then, my body was a traitor. In that desert, it was weak, turned against me, and I came out of there feeling like I couldn't trust it. This pleasure I feel with you, this . . .
need
I have for you, I can't trust it. It's a trigger that'll unleash what's inside me.”

“Brady, we're not talking about the Kraken here.” Gage smiled, but it crumbled around the edges and the effort he was putting in melted Brady's heart. Hell, he actually thought this was fixable. “It's okay to need someone, to rely on someone.”

“And what about when I wake up, thinking I'm being held down when all you're doing is wrappin' an arm around my body and pullin' me close?”

“I'll sleep in bubble wrap. We can do this.”

“Gage, I'm a grenade with the pin pulled. I
will
hurt you. Maybe not this week or next, but eventually you will wake up with me choking you or punching you. Or you might not wake up at all.”

A vehement shake of Gage's head was his response. “We'll see a therapist. Together. Deal with it. Together.”

After all he'd just told him, this beautiful guy still saw the possibilities. Time to shut that fairy-tale shit down.

“We're just fucking, Gage. Barely, at that.”

Gage's face collapsed, just plain fell in on itself. Christ, it was like kicking a puppy.

“I can put up with a lot, Brady. You wouldn't believe what I can endure. I can get us through this—”

“What would you know about enduring anything, Gage? You've got this perfect life and family and nothing bothers you. You think everything can be fixed with a long talk and a longer fuck and the happy sappy world will love you right back.”

There it is.
That face of pain changed to fury. Good. About time the golden god got pissed about something. It had taken Brady a deep dig into his reserves of asshole to make it happen. He braced for Gage to go off the reservation.

But as always, this was the guy who refused to follow the script.

“You're right.” Reaching to the floor, Gage grabbed his jeans and tee, and jerked them on.

Wait a second; he should be madder than a mama wasp. “Gage—”