And the moment you lay that on Ollie, you’ll send him screaming for the hills.
Trevor shut the thought down, the possibility that he could scare Ollie away was just too damn depressing. And what was he doing thinking depressing thoughts right now, anyway? He’d just shared the best sex of his life with the man who was also his best friend. That wasn’t something to fret about; he should be celebrating. They’d crossed a line. They were moving forward.
So what if Ollie had only slept with women before? That meant nothing. Ollie wasn’t Greg. Ollie was a thousand miles away from the man Greg had been. A man who’d cheated, not only in marriage but in his own representation of himself. He’d specifically told Trevor he had no interest in women anymore. And even if he did, there was no way he’d break his vows.
And yet he’d broken them so easily.
With a sigh, Trevor moved closer to Ollie, his arm going around his waist. As he did, Ollie shifted, too, so that their bodies were spooned together.
“You’re thinking too loud.”
Ollie’s whispered words startled Trevor into laughter. “I thought you were asleep.”
“Mostly. I like the feel of you. Soaking it all in before I fade to black. No time for a repeat performance when we wake up. We’ll be on point downstairs. I’m making the most of the memory.”
Something worrisome tugged at his gut. That sounded like a one-off.
He swallowed. “Memories are good.”
“Damn right,” Ollie said, his voice thin with sleep.
And as Ollie drifted off again, Trevor fought down an emotion that felt remarkably like panic. Because he wanted more than just one memory with Ollie. He wanted a lifetime of memories.
Most of all, he wanted the man himself.
Chapter Eleven
Trevor woke with a groan, the blare of the hideous alarm he’d set on his iPhone enough to make him want to hurl the thing across the room. He didn’t; instead, he grabbed it, then stabbed blindly at the screen until the squawking stopped.
Then he flopped back, enjoying the blissful silence.
That, however, lasted only a minute, because as soon as he closed his eyes and tried to fall back asleep, he realized what had been bugging him—Ollie.
He wasn’t in bed.
Frowning, Trevor sat up, then looked around the still-dark room. The curtains were closed, but it wasn’t even six. The sun was still pushing itself up over the horizon.
The room had an attached bath, and Trevor got out of bed and walked naked in that direction, assuming Ollie would be there. But the door was wide open, and there was no sign of him.
Okay…
For a moment, Trevor felt a stab of fear. Had Ollie regretted last night? Had he found himself lying awake, trying to wrap his head around what they’d done? And, ultimately, had he decided that it wasn’t for him.
Get a grip, Barone.
He wanted to kick his own ass. He knew he was a projecting Greg onto the situation. And now he was getting all up in his head, like a high school freshman with his first crush. He was an adult, dammit. More than that, he was a trained observer. He could parse out a scene by studying it, and frankly this scene didn’t require much study at all.
It was morning. Ollie was gone. So, for that matter, were the clothes Ollie had been wearing last night. All of which added up to the certainty that Ollie had gotten dressed and left the room.
Not exactly the most mind-blowing bit of detective work, but at least he wasn’t spinning wild tales of Ollie sneaking out the bedroom window with a blue-eyed blonde whose big tits had won out over Trevor’s cock.
With a frustrated groan, he shook his head. He truly was losing it, and all because he’d fallen fast. But had it been too fast? Or was it like Goldilocks and the timing had been just right?
And like hell it was fast. They’d been dancing around this for over a year now.
He shook his head, forcing the swarm of thoughts to stop spinning.
He started toward the door, remembered that clothes would be a stellar idea, then slid back into the pants and Henley he’d been wearing. Sometime today, they’d need to grab some extra clothes and toiletries.
With the possibility of that joint excursion filling his thoughts, he headed out of the room, almost bumping into Brax.
“So where are we?” he asked. “Anything new in the night?”
Brax shook his head. “We’re pretty much right where we were. A long way from nowhere, but unfortunately in the wrong direction.”
“In other words, we’ve got nothing.”
“Got it in one.” He hooked his thumb toward the room Trevor had just come from. “You’re clear, right? Apparently that’s my crash pad.”
“It’s all yours. I was asleep when Ollie stepped out, but I assume he has everything he needs.”
“Yeah, when he settled in downstairs, he said he couldn’t sleep. Not surprised considering it’s Courtney. I mean, no matter what’s between them today, those two have a long history. He’s got to be sick about this.”
Of course he was. Ollie was broken up about Courtney, and Trevor was being a jerk for not even thinking that Ollie wouldn’t be able to sleep. That of course he’d head straight down to the operations center.
He frowned; he was distracted and off his game, and he couldn’t afford to be. Courtney couldn’t afford him to be. Because they were going to find her. For her sake, and for Ollie’s.
“I’m heading down now to get reports from the overnight crew and check in with everyone coming on shift. There’s coffee, I hope.”
“Gallons,” Brax promised. “And cinnamon rolls.”
“Who do I have to kiss to make sure those keep coming?”
“The pastry fairy?” He nodded toward the bedroom. “See you on the flip side—or you’ll wake me if something pops?”
“You know it.”
Brax turned toward the door, then paused, looking at Trevor over his shoulder. “Ollie already knows it as an agent, but remind him as Courtney’s friend that a slow start like this doesn’t mean we won’t find her. It just means we’re eliminating the bad choices early on.”
“I will,” Trevor said. “But thanks for the reminder.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes it’s hard to remember that Ollie is a victim here, too.” Brax’s shoulders rose and fell, his expression haunted “I know a little bit about that.”
“I’m sorry,” Trevor said, remembering reading in Brax’s file that he’d seen his girlfriend murdered. It seemed as if everyone on the team had stared into Hell at one time or another.
He hurried downstairs to dive into work and checked in with Liam first. “We’re chugging along. Interviewing everyone significant in her life, and a few select insignificants, too. We’ve got a team on that. A team looking at her banking and credit card statements. She took a vacation about a month ago—one of those all-inclusive islands. Denny’s working with the folks in Mexico. You can see it all in the night report.”
“Good work.”
“Still nothing on tracking the car,” he added. “We’re running through permutations for the plate, but that’s going to take time even with access to Stark’s servers.”