Touch&Geaux (9 page)

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

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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

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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.”

60

July, 2004. Miami, Florida.

ane hadn’t heard his real name spoken in almost six

Z
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

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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.

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“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.

63

“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.

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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?”

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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.”

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.

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“A story?”