Packing Heat

PACKING HEAT

Kele Moon

www.loose-id.com

Packing Heat

Copyright © January 2012 Kele Moon

Al rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser

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eISBN 978-1-61118-692-5

Editor: Maryam Salim

Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs

Printed in the United States of America

Published by

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This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to

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places and incidents are either the product of the author’s

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is entirely coincidental.

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titles.

“I’m a big advocate for gay rights. I’d vote for gay marriage if

it ever came up on the balot.”

Brad took a long drink of his beer. “Don’t hold your breath

on that one.”

“The point is”—Gavin turned around from his spot on the

floor where he sat with his back against the couch. The television

cast flickers of color over his handsome face as he stared up at

Brad.—“I’m secure in my sexuality. I don’t care that you’re gay.”

“Thanks, Gav,” Brad said, the bite in his voice harsh even to

his ears. “Right backatcha. Most gay guys avoid drunk, straight

assholes who think they deserve some sorta stud medal for letting

us be in their presence, but don’t worry, I’m secure enough to deal

with the bulshit.”

Gavin blinked, the drunken flush to his tan cheeks growing

more pronounced. “I said something wrong, didn’t I?”

Gavin’s light eyes were glazed. His black hair stuck up at odd

angles. It was obvious even the hardy Irish blood that ran in Gavin

Connoly’s veins couldn’t hold up to the binge he’d been on for the

past eight hours.

“Don’t worry about it.” Brad took another sip of his beer,

feeling like he needed it. “You’re drunk. I get it.”

“But I don’t wanna piss you off. I care about ya. You’re like

a—” Gavin paused, turning to look blankly at the television as if

searching for the right word. “Wel, you’re not realy a buddy. I

mean, you are a buddy, but you’re more than a buddy to me. Much

more. I don’t care if the boys at the station make fun of me. I’m

glad we’re roommates.”

“Wow.” Brad widened his eyes at that disaster of an

explanation. “You’re a really bad drunk.”

“I don’t drink that much.” Gavin took another swig of his

beer and then mumbled against the rim, “Damn kid, why’d he have

to pul a gun? So fucking stupid.”

“You didn’t kil him.” Brad sighed, knowing Gavin had a very

good reason for the uncharacteristic pity party. “He’l be al right.”

“Luck.” Gavin snorted. “It’s a fucking miracle that bulet

missed his heart.”

“Maybe we oughta go back to talking about how awesome

you are for having a gay roommate,” Brad offered with a wince.

“Do you know how much bureaucratic bulshit I’ve gone

through in the past three days? Al ’cause that damn kid puled a

gun. My name’s al over the news.”

“You’re a hero, man. Who knows what that asshole

would’ve done if you hadn’t taken him down.”

“That’s just it.” Gavin turned back to Brad, a look of misery

shining in his light eyes. “I don’t feel like a hero. I feel like a guy

who shot a nineteen-year-old kid for making a bad decision.”

Forgetting about the distance he usualy forced between

them, Brad got up and kicked aside some of the beer bottles to sit

next to Gavin on the floor. He wasn’t realy sure why he did it.

Maybe it was Gavin looking more like a kicked puppy than the

cool, easygoing roommate he’d gotten used to over the past several

months.

“You’re a good cop,” Brad said softly, leaning back against

the couch. “And more importantly, you’re a good guy. It was a

justified shooting. The shoot team’s gonna clear you to go back to

work in a few more days. Everything wil be fine. I promise.”

“Thanks.” Gavin gave him a dazzling smile, as if forgetting his

bout of melancholy. “You’re a real buddy. The best one I got.

Talking you into renting me this room was the best thing I ever did.

And you thought it wouldn’t work out.”

Brad remembered with stunning clarity the reason why he

kept his distance from Gavin. He was too fucking handsome. The

contrast between his black hair and light eyes was startling. His face

was both beautiful and masculine with his hard jaw and ful lips. And

his body… Jesus. Brad turned back to the television, the chant of

it’d be a mistake echoing in his mind.

Brad’s taste in men was dangerous. He was naturaly drawn

to broad shoulders, powerful muscles, rock-solid abs—the harder

and more masculine the better. He didn’t have a problem with

softer gay men. Pretty bottoms with floppy hair and slim bodies

were fine. He just didn’t want to fuck them.

It was highly inconvenient that Brad’s line of work left him

drowning in testosterone. If it wasn’t the other firefighters and

paramedics he worked with, it was cops like Gavin. But Brad was

thirty-eight; he had learned to separate his private and professional

lives. The straight ones he kept his distance from, the gay ones—

wel, he could tel Gavin a few things about some of those guys he

worked with. They were probably the same assholes laughing at

him for having a gay roommate. Closeted gay men were the worst.

“I’m not realy secure in my sexuality,” Gavin whispered over

the hum of the television. “That was bulshit.”

Brad looked toward the ceiling, praying for patience. The

only thing worse than a closeted gay man was one who had his

head so far up his ass he didn’t realize he had the inclination.

Gavin, for example.

Straight cops didn’t beg and plead to rent a room from a gay

firefighter unless they were looking for something. Not to mention

Gavin was drop-dead gorgeous. He could get any woman he

wanted, but the asshole didn’t date.

If Brad were younger and dumber, he would have rejoiced in

helping Gavin solve his dating problems, but Brad wasn’t young and

dumb. He was middle-aged and cynical. He didn’t need beautiful

and buff Gavin with his pretty eyes and strong jaw. He wanted the

hel out of him, so much so he hadn’t gotten laid in months because

he’d rather play domestic with the most clueless cop in Tampa Bay,

but he didn’t need him.

“Time to go to bed.” Brad reached over to pul the beer out

of Gavin’s hand. “You’ve officialy had one too many. I’m ending

this pity party.”

“Do you think I’m handsome?” Gavin asked, eyes wide and

glazed with liquid courage.

Fuck, yes.

“I think you’re unavailable,” Brad said evenly instead of voice

his thoughts out loud. “Trust me, Gavin, you want to go to bed

now.”

“I don’t see you looking at me,” Gavin mumbled rather than

take Brad’s advice. He appeared genuinely disappointed with the

lack of attention. “Maybe only women think I’m hot.”

Brad roled his eyes at Gavin’s vanity that was oddly

charming. Arrogant but unassuming—not many could make that

work.

“It’s not only women,” Brad found himself admitting. “You’re

hot; anyone would think so.”

“Would you think so?”

Brad took a long drink of the beer he’d stolen from Gavin

and resumed his staring contest with the television. His cock flared

to life, demanding he answer in the affirmative. His mind reminded

him of the disaster it would create in the morning when the booze

wore off. He was a little too old to do awkward to that extreme.

“Brad?”

He made the mistake of looking at Gavin when he heard the

pleading desperation. Gavin’s eyes swirled with haunted

uncertainty, as if Brad could somehow solve his life problems. That

was a very dangerous look. It made Gavin seem younger than

thirty-four, more innocent, and wholy tempting in a way that sucker

punched Brad with yearning. He swalowed hard past the rush of

desire.

“Yeah,” he whispered, knowing it was a mistake even as he

said it. “I think you’re handsome. Happy?”

He closed his eyes and prayed for strength when his defenses

were at an al-time low. He was so focused on finding an inner

source of defense, Brad ended up blindsided when a hard male

body suddenly pressed against him. A rough hand ran over his jaw.

Warm breath brushed against his lips.

Holy shit! Gavin was kissing him. The logical thing to do was

push the drunken fool away, but Brad wasn’t feeling logical. There

was a crackle between them. The electric current of attraction was

so overwhelming, Brad knew Gavin wasn’t the only one in denial.

He had wanted this man for a long time now, and no amount of past

baggage was going to let Brad deny it when Gavin was making

himself this available.

He kissed him back. The excitement was palatable, reminding

him of stolen, forbidden kisses between footbal players behind the

bleachers. They were both frantic, needing to touch and feel

everything at once. It was wild. It was sloppy. It felt unbelievably

right when he knew it shouldn’t.

Gavin had him feeling seventeen again.

Brad seized the moment like a drowning man. He tangled his

fingers in Gavin’s dark hair, wanting him closer. When Gavin

straddled Brad’s hips, settling on his lap like he belonged there,

Brad thought it was a minor miracle he didn’t come in his jeans.

He gripped Gavin’s tight ass, moaning against his lips when

he felt hard muscle through faded jeans. He arched his hips up,

making his lap more user-friendly as Gavin rutted against him.

Gavin’s tongue thrust into his mouth to the intoxicating rhythm Gavin