have to,” Clint told him, and the moan slipped from Jace’s throat before he could stop himself.
“Fuck me now,” Jace rasped.
“Demanding sort, aren’t we?”
Before Jace could answer, Clint was taking him with a fever Jace would have to fight to keep up with.
And he did.
“Now.” Jace bucked up, forcing Clint’s thick cock deeper. Finally, Clint rocked harder and harder into him, until Jace’s balls drew up tight.
“That’s it, baby. Just come,” Clint urged.
“Don’t you dare stop,” Jace practically begged, making an effort to get the words out as Clint drove into him faster. Within minutes, Jace shot all over his stomach and chest with a loud groan.
“Don’t worry, I won’t stop. Got a lot of making up to do,” Clint muttered, more to himself than to Jace, but Jace didn’t plan on stopping him.
“Am I forgiven?” Clint whispered, his hand moving between their bodies to work Jace’s cock.
“So not fair,” Jace mumbled, or tried to, because honestly, what came out was pretty incoherent.
It made Clint smile, and the light was back in his eyes, the one that Jace swore he saw for the first time when they’d kissed in his undercover loft.
“That’s not an answer,” Clint persisted. “Don’t make me play dirty.”
Jace simply said, “Do what you have to.”
Chapter Nine
Clint took that as an invitation, studied the boy as he took him again, unable to get his fill, noted every nuance, every single breath the boy took. Every reaction put on file in his memory—because he wanted to please this kid more than he’d ever pleased anyone in his life. Wanted to take him higher, make him shout Clint’s name over and over, loudly enough to wake up everyone in the general vicinity. Wanted to mark him so no one else in Jace’s life even came close to this fucking. Ever.
Clint was being selfish as hell, and he didn’t care. He realized that he never wanted Jace to find someone else, and the possessiveness that gripped him scared the ever-living fuck out of him and made him want to hang on tighter.
This was supposed to be a one-night thing—a one-weekend thing. Officially, he was dead. But apparently Jace had the power to bring him back to life, and Clint wasn’t afraid to admit that it was an excellent thing.
But for how long? This boy could easily be his kryptonite, and beyond that, time would never be on his side while he was still in the CIA. Clint was hitting his prime in the organization. There may be younger guys, but he had gotten few injuries and his field experience was priceless.
He hadn’t worked this hard to throw it away, and he already knew his bloodlines would keep him from connecting to any one person for very long.
Rex glanced at his ringing phone and saw that it was Damon. The last time he’d spoken with his friend was during the mission, weeks ago. Now, he took the call on the back deck of his house that overlooked the beach, a beer in hand, and felt the familiar anger at what Jace had been going through. The kid had done his job—an excellent job—throwing himself into the work instead of focusing on his personal life.
“I didn’t say anything to him,” Rex told his friend after Damon said hello.
“Clint appreciates that.”
“So he finally went back to his old name? Tell him I didn’t do it for him. Asshole. Hope I get the chance to tell him to his face.”
Damon sighed. “What’s this really about, Rex?”
“Ah, don’t play amateur psychologist with me.”
“I’m your friend—I don’t have to play at anything. And you’re wound tighter than hell, tighter than last time I saw you when you were staring at the young SEAL on your team like you wanted to lock him up and protect him from the world.” Damon paused. “Hell, I want to do the same thing with Tanner, but I can’t.”
Rex took a long drink of beer and stared out across the dark sky, the rolling waves a soothing echo in the background. He’d known Damon for fifteen