Grace swallowed and tried to remember the last guy he’d been with.
No dice. A cock, a touch, the back room of a club—forgotten before the jizz had been tossed into a trash can.
Well, his first real lover had been the guy to stick the needle in his arm, so there were worse things.
“Fine,” he muttered, feeling out of sorts. Off-balance. “It’s your time.”
“That’s sweet,” Hunter said dryly, laying his duster on the office chair and then sitting down to unlace his boots.
“I’m not, you know.” God. Honesty. Grace was a great thief, but being subtle and silent was not his thing.
“Not what?” Hunter set one boot aside and went to work on the other. Grace peered curiously over the edge of the bed and saw black cotton socks, high-end. The socks of a guy who spent a lot of time on his feet and needed to think about comfort.
The boots were worn enough to be comfortable, new enough to take some damage.
Everything about this man was practical and no-bullshit. What in the fuck was he doing in Grace’s hotel room?
“Sweet,” Grace said, feeling helpless and trying to take charge of this situation. “I’m not sweet. I’m an asshole. Drop lovers like Kleenex—”
“They’re not lovers if you drop them like Kleenex,” Hunter argued. “They’re flesh-covered dildos, and I’m not one of them, so knock it off.” With a grunt and a heave, he pushed himself backward on the bed, stretching out with his head on one pillow. Imperiously, he stretched out his arm and glared at Grace until Grace made himself comfortable, his head on Hunter’s shoulder, body fitted neatly alongside.
He took a deep, experimental breath and tried to decide if he liked this or no—
“Are you purring?” Hunter asked, breaking into his thoughts.
“No,” Grace lied. Oh wow. This—this feeling here. This was amazing. His body started doing things Grace hadn’t given it permission to do, namely burrow deeper into Hunter’s amazing heat. Hunter dropped his arm and used it to roll Grace over so he was sprawled partially on top of Hunter’s lean, well-muscled body, and then he wrapped that arm around Grace’s shoulders, holding him tighter.
“You okay?” Hunter asked.
“Sure. Fine. Don’t move, all right?”
Another move, this one putting Hunter on his side and Grace fully in his embrace.
“Now we’re good,” Hunter whispered, dropping a kiss on the top of Grace’s head. “This is fine. You stay right here.”
“I’m not sweet,” Grace said again, perilously near tears. His feet throbbed, and his adrenaline was letting down, and while that could have accounted for some of the excess… whatever this was, that damned honesty wouldn’t let him use it as an excuse. “Why are we doing this?”
“Because,” Hunter said softly. “Because I was going to wait for you to grow up a little, figure out what you wanted, before I approached you.”
“I was getting there,” Grace sniffed.
“Yeah?”
“Haven’t gotten laid in three months. You think that’s normal?”
“I’m honored,” Hunter said, and he sounded half-amused, half-sincere, but Grace wasn’t giving up this place where he could smell Hunter’s chest to study his face and find out.
“What changed?” That was what Grace really wanted to know.
“You, running away from a man with a gun,” Hunter told him, and his arm tightened convulsively. “We like to pretend that what we do isn’t dangerous. I think we’re all thrill junkies in one way or another. But—” He took a shuddering breath. “—I was scared. I’ve… I’ve lost people before, on ops. And suddenly I didn’t want to see what happened if I didn’t hold you first.”
Grace’s breath caught. Gah! This was like seeing somebody naked. And he wasn’t ready. He usually didn’t even see the whole person anyway—just the cock! And here was Hunter, naked, honest, and no dick in sight.
“I’m sorry,” he said wretchedly. “It must suck to lose somebody.” He couldn’t even fathom losing Josh or his family. Seeing Artur looking old and frail over the past twenty-four hours had shaken him badly. “Who was it?”
“You’ve never lost anyone?” Hunter asked at the same time.
“You’ve met all my people,” Grace told him, not wanting to talk about it.
“Not your parents.”
“They lost me,” he said. He couldn’t remember a time they’d been home for even a birthday. Maybe when he was a baby. There had been a picture of his parents, his mother stiff in a summer dress, his father wearing pressed “casual” clothes, and him in a perfectly chosen baby outfit. They’d been posed, in a studio, and he remembered his nanny telling him that he’d been sick that day, almost impossible to jolly into a smile.
She’d been let go when he started school. He had some soft memories of a plump blond woman who had liked to sing church hymns to him as he slept. It was one of the reasons he liked the nickname “Grace.” Thinking about her, he liked to think he was Amazing.
“Is that why you want the world to look at you?” Hunter mused, almost to himself. “Because your parents won’t?”
“Whatever,” Grace huffed, although Hunter was most likely right. It didn’t take a super genius shrink to figure that one out. “Who did you lose? And how old are you? And where did you serve in the military? And why did you go mercenary when you got out? And why were you taking classes at the college? And did Josh really meet you in class, or were you running ops without me?”
Hunter burst out laughing. “Wow! How long have you been holding that in?”
“Two months,” Grace said shortly. “Five or so, if you count the time before I met you, when you were Josh’s friend.”
“Oh,” Hunter said, drawing the syllable out like Grace had explained something to him. “You were jealous.”
“I was not! Josh and I aren’t a thing.”
“You are brothers, and I was taking attention away from you, and that’s a thing,” Hunter corrected.
“I hate you,” Grace said passionately—and inaccurately, even he knew that. “I hate that you understand this stuff. Makes me feel like I’m doing a job naked.”
“It’s okay if you’re naked,” Hunter murmured, running a hand up and down his back. Grace tried to resist the last bit of relaxation that threatened to overwhelm him, but he failed.
Hunter Rutledge left him limp and languorous and at the same time banking a slow arousal in the pit of his stomach. How fair was that?
“Just shut up,” Grace mumbled. “Just—”
“Sh… it’s okay, Grace. I won’t desert you. Or hurt you. But we’re not going to jump into bed together, okay? I just needed you to know I cared.”
“Why?” Grace demanded wretchedly. “We’re… coworkers.” He’d never really had a coworker, had he? Unless he counted the women and the straight guys he danced with. Except this… this was different—way different—than when Tabitha or Molly sat on his lap and cuddled.