Free Marie Harte - [PowerUp! 08] by Killer Thoughts Page A

went into Ian’s nightstand to gather his things.
    He spent the remainder of the day moving his stuff into Owen’s bedroom and making himself at home. Since no one had told him to go anywhere else, he figured to stake his claim. Dalton could go screw himself.
    Satisfied he hadn’t seen that G-man in a while either, Ian indulged in a nice long nap, watched a few television shows he normally slept through while resting for his night shifts, then snooped through the rest of Owen’s room.
    As expected, Owen had expensive clothing. Too bad they weren’t the same size, or Ian would have been more than happy to share a wardrobe. The guy didn’t have much in the way of jewelry either. A thick gold signet ring, probably his father’s, as well as a few watches and cuff links made up the bulk of Owen’s stash. Nothing impressive—well, discounting the watches. He had a Patek Philippe and a Breitling, but nothing too bling for Owen.
    Unfortunately, Ian didn’t see a collection of his new lover’s sexual toys either. No doubt Owen had them, but he’d hidden them somewhere. Ian was dying to see what Owen wanted to play with…besides him.
    He wore a satisfied smirk at the thought of how he’d made the sexy playboy groan his name. Ian might not have nearly the same money as his lover, but he knew how to pleasure a man. It was all in the touch. Not too hard or too soft. A caress here, firmness there, and the ability to read his partner’s pleasure.
    Owen liked to think of himself as a man of mystery, but he couldn’t hold back when Ian used his lips and teeth over him. All over.
    Getting revved up with no ease in sight, Ian forced himself to stop thinking about Owen and sat in a buff leather chair that had more comfort than class. He looked around him, wondering what his father would have made of his son sitting in a place like this.
    Colum Burke had worked hard to find a place for himself and his ailing wife and child. When Ian’s mother died, Colum had all but gone with her. For his son, he’d done his best to support them. And then he lost his job. A cabbie in downtown New York didn’t make the same that he’d earned in Ireland, where living in a small town didn’t cost nearly as much and people often traded services for goods.
    Colum had worked two jobs at a time, barely making enough to put food on the table and keep a roof over their heads.
    Ian glanced around him, both repelled and fascinated with the sedate opulence of Owen’s wealth. Ian had only come into his abilities at the tender age of ten, but by then his father had taken sick. Cancer had eaten both his mother and his father, leaving him homeless and at the mercy of the streets in his early teens.
    But he’d learned fast. And he’d never let anyone take advantage of him. Being able to see patterns applied to more than artwork and forgery. Ian often studied how others treated one another, how the law worked for those with wealth, and how to spot a con.
    A master of the art, he tried to figure out how best to play Owen and kept coming up blank. He didn’t think Owen would take to the sympathy card if Ian decided to actually confide in him how hard life had once been. Though he’d worked that angle with previous lovers, he didn’t see Owen falling for a sob story. And the truth of his past made him uncomfortable enough that Owen might actually see through Ian’s veneer and feel pity for him—the last thing Ian wanted.
    Sure, he wanted to con Owen. A challenge, a need to dominate a man who refused to be mastered.
    “He likes the sex,” Ian muttered, trying to work with what he had.
    His entire life, he’d gotten by on his looks and brains. So had Owen, except Owen had the additional benefit of millions to back him up.
    Ian could try to get in with Heather, but he’d pretty much given up on using people. Good people, at least, and he could see the woman had a pure heart of gold. Hell, she’d taken to Jack. She had to be going for sainthood.
    He