Free Job Hunt by Jackie Keswick Page B

wall and pushed their lips together. For a small eternity—no more than a breath or two—Jack stood frozen. Then he melted into the kiss with a soft moan that went straight to Gareth’s groin.
    “You blithering idiot! Why didn’t you say something?” Gareth demanded when he drew back from the kiss, his breathing ragged. It was so easy to get lost in Jack, all cinnamon and chocolate and heat, as if Jack was a treat designed specifically for Gareth’s senses.
    “Yeah, like you did?” Jack sounded peeved.
    “That’s different. Back then, I couldn’t make the first move.”
    “Same reason,” Jack shot back. “I didn’t want to jeopardize your career, either.”
    “My career? What the fuck are you talking about?”
    “Then why?”
    “Your age, moron!” Gareth snarled. “Never been one for cradle snatching.”
    “My age?” Jack’s wide-eyed stare would have been comical, but for the outrage in the gray-green depths. “That’s your excuse?” he demanded hotly. “I was old enough to go out and get shot, for Christ’s sake!”
    They stared at each other until Gareth reached out and cupped Jack’s cheek. “I realize that,” he acknowledged, voice wry. “Only thing I can say is that—at the time—it felt all wrong. And given what I’ve learnt tonight….”
    Jack turned his head and let his lips brush Gareth’s palm. “That’s not the same, and you know it,” he said, the fire in his eyes replaced with certainty. “With you, I would’ve had a choice.”
    “You still do.”
    “Then stay here?”
    Gareth hesitated a heartbeat too long. Hurt bloomed across Jack’s face.
    “If you don’t want….”
    The rest was cut off as Gareth crushed Jack back against the wall. “What I want?” He breathed across Jack’s ear and relished the shiver that ran through the lithe form in his arms. “I’ll tell you what I want, brat. Rip every piece of fabric off you. Taste every inch of you. Screw you into the nearest available surface until you scream my name. And then do it again.” He bit down on an earlobe until Jack arched helplessly against him. “Been wanting that for years. Just so we’re clear.”
    He drew away, just far enough to pull Jack’s chin up and meet the wide eucalyptus-colored eyes. “Still doesn’t mean that staying’s a good idea. You’re strung out and tired, Jack. And tense as a bow.”
    “Help me relax?”
    “Yeah, I could,” Gareth sighed. “But I don’t want you to regret this tomorrow morning.”
    “Regret it?” Jack touched fingertips to the strip of leather around his throat. “Does this look like I’ll regret… anything?”
    Gareth sighed. He was doing a lot of that lately, and it wasn’t doing him any good. Why was he fighting anyway? He didn’t want to leave. And Jack…. Jack wanted him to stay. “My rules,” he growled before his brain had realized he’d opened his mouth. “I stay, but we play by my rules.”
    Gareth expected dissent, but if anything Jack looked relieved. “Just… stay,” he pleaded. “I don’t need another hangover, but….”
    “I remember.” Gareth nuzzled a line from Jack’s ear down his neck, tasting skin as he went and loving it. “Massage oil?”
    “Bathroom.”
    Jack’s answer was breathy. Gareth pushed away from the wall and the warm body he’d pinned against it, grinning when Jack swallowed a protesting whine. “Strip and get facedown on the bed,” he ordered and went to find himself some massage oil.
    Compared to the muted chaos of Jack’s bedroom, where makeup, club clothes, and weapons warred for space on floor and dresser, the bathroom was neat and well supplied. Besides various massage oils, Gareth spotted bath bombs, bath salts, and a few waterproof toys that set his mind racing, but he shelved the wayward thoughts. Tonight’s objective was getting Jack to relax. Fun and games could wait.
    He repeated that to himself a few more times for emphasis as he returned to the bedroom and found Jack stretched