Bad Attitude (18 page)

Jamie shifted from side to side, making room for himself inside Gavin’s body, fitting them together in a way that made Gavin the one who wanted to rush now. Make it clear that his body was the only thing he could give so Jamie could stop trying to find something Gavin didn’t know how to offer.

He moved, tried to start the fuck, but Jamie used his thighs to pin Gavin’s down, making him wait, making him feel exactly what Jamie wanted him to and nothing more.

That was the only point where they touched. Jamie’s fists drove into the mattress on either side of Gavin’s ribs, chest far away from Gavin’s back. How could he feel Jamie pounding inside him everywhere when they hadn’t moved?

He wanted to say something. The kind of thing that would let Jamie know that not only was it past time for him to initiate the thrusting part of the activity, but that thrusting was all that was on Gavin’s mind.

For once, he couldn’t find those words, and with Jamie being such a control freak, Gavin couldn’t prove it with his body.

Jamie kept shifting around, tiny shocks of sensation, bursts of pleasure, but he still kept them waiting. Gavin started to think he could feel the throb of blood in Jamie’s cock, that Gavin’s heartbeat was trying to match it.

Gavin’s skin was thin everywhere when Jamie finally started to move. Thin and so sensitive that a drop of sweat landing on his back felt like a flash of hot wax, the slap of Jamie’s balls teased like a tongue, and the 3000-thread-count sheet brushing Gavin’s dick might as well have been as textured as terrycloth.

Jamie moved off Gavin’s thighs, letting him up onto his knees a little. Gavin dug in his fingers and fucked back into Jamie, hard, steady, glad to get this where it needed to be. Gavin could take care of himself as Jamie got closer. Right now he concentrated on meeting Jamie’s strokes.

Then Jamie scooped him up and sank back, leaving Gavin’s legs outside Jamie’s as they knelt upright, and however full Gavin thought he’d been before was nothing compared to how it felt now. Stretched and splayed open on Jamie’s dick, nothing but Jamie’s hold on him to keep him upright. Every muscle and bone seemed to be a thrust away from turning liquid, melting Gavin off Jamie’s lap and into a puddle on the mattress.

Gavin couldn’t figure out how this had gone from offering what Jamie needed to Gavin grabbing his dick, desperate to come now while he still had enough muscle coordination to do it. Jamie’s forehead pressed against Gavin’s shoulder blade, lips kissing and brushing the same small patch of skin until Gavin started to shake. Then Jamie began sucking a bite in that skin, and the loop of sensation between Gavin’s ass and his cock went into an overdrive that sent him smashing into an orgasm that hit him like a bullet train, a blur and rush of heat, a roar in his head and the perfect release of tension from his balls.

Gavin sagged, and Jamie let him gently settle back onto the mattress. Now it would be the way Gavin had thought it would from the start, Jamie fucking away the last remnants of whatever was in his head that scared him. Gavin wondered if he saw his friend fall again, or if there were other things as a rescue diver to fill his head with images that panicked him out of sleep.

Jamie moved his cock fast in Gavin’s ass, and it hurt now, but that felt a part of what he could give, compensation for whatever had been raked up in Jamie’s subconscious.

It wasn’t long before Jamie was gasping, his strokes tighter, body jerking, then stilling with a soft moan. But he had another surprise left. He wrapped his arms around Gavin and pulled them onto their sides. In a voice still rough and deep, Jamie muttered, “You. Sweet Jesus, it was you.”

Before Gavin could ask him what he meant, Jamie used Gavin’s hair to turn his head and expose his neck. After a brush of Jamie’s cheek and lips, he let go and rolled off the bed.

Gavin tried to stay awake, but not even the gluey sensation of come drying on his chest was a deterrent to the strong tug of sleep.

Jamie spent a few minutes hanging on to the funky copper bowl that made up the sink in Gavin’s bathroom. Staring at the haggard face in the mirror, Jamie reminded himself that whatever sick feeling that dream had left him with, it wasn’t real. None of it. He hadn’t been next to Colton on the ruins. Hadn’t missed a chance to grab him. And 110 percent reality was that Gavin was never there. His neck wasn’t the one that snapped. He’d never looked at Jamie with hurt surprise as he failed to stop him from going over.

There was no regular-looking faucet handle, but Jamie jabbed at buttons until what he thought was a soap dish had water spill over it into the bowl. Pretty, but pointless. He splashed the lukewarm water on his face, then dried off on a fluffy towel.

For once, he hoped Gavin would ignore something Jamie had said. The guy probably thought Jamie was some kind of headcase, freaking out over a dream, muttering strange stuff in the middle of sex.

The shower setup didn’t look as cool as the one in the beach house, but there was still the overhead nozzle plus one on each side. Jamie could kill some time in there, waiting for Gavin to fall back asleep and skip the questions-Jamie-didn’t-have-a-fucking-clue-how-to-answer awkwardness. Except Jamie wasn’t quite pathetic enough for that. He went back out to find the guy tucked in a ball on his side, as if even in sleep he was pulling that disappearing act. Jamie climbed in and ignored the wide-open space on his side of the bed in favor of wrapping himself around Gavin. If another one of those dreams hit, Jamie would already have Gavin wrapped up tight.

But the rest of the night slipped by without a hitch, and Jamie woke up to find himself still hanging on in a cross-chest carry like he’d tow Gavin back to shore. The showers were definitely a perk, but Jamie couldn’t see what the point of being rich was if you couldn’t get people to bring you food and coffee in bed.

He told Gavin that when he blinked his eyes open and stretched back against Jamie’s chest.

“What time is it?” Gavin asked.

“Almost nine.”

“We can get something if we hurry.” Gavin rolled away and got to his feet.

“Wait.” Jamie crawled out on the same side. “Not only do you not have people to bring you stuff, you have a schedule of when you can eat?”

“Breakfast is usually served buffet-style from 7-9, dinner’s at 6:30.” Gavin turned from opening a drawer to slide into a plaid pair of boxer briefs. “It’s not as if the kitchen is off-limits, but we have to respect the cook’s time.”

Jamie had a feeling Gavin was quoting his father. There was something rote about it, the way you said stuff that you didn’t really buy but had drilled into your head anyway.

Jamie was bummed to miss his shot to eat at one of those long tables loaded with crystal and silver, but as he buttoned up his jeans he offered, “We can grab something if you want on the way back to get your car. There’s a good Greek diner on Kane Street.”

Gavin looked over his shoulder. “If you’re in a hurry, we can— I was going to call down and ask them not to clear.”

“Here’s fine.” Jamie lifted his holster off the chair where he’d hung it last night. Gavin sat on the bed and watched him dress, then came over before Jamie pulled his leather jacket on.

Gavin put his hand over the straps holding the gun to Jamie’s side, then down over the piece itself. “We’ve always—at your house—I never really thought about it.”

Jamie wasn’t going to claim Gavin was easy to read all of a sudden, but right now there was an intensity in the way he was looking at Jamie that wasn’t completely about sex.

“Does it turn you on or off?” Jamie asked.

“A little of both. I’ve fired a sport rifle—not at anything alive.”

A firearm had been part of Jamie’s life for twenty-two years. First his M16, now his Glock. He hoped he never had to take a shot at something alive.

The table was long, and there was a lot of shining stuff, but it didn’t seem to have much of an effect on plain old scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and orange juice. The juice was fresh, though, and there were little things like breakfast pizzas with an egg, crabmeat and some buttery sauce on English muffins.

“Those are Lily’s favorite,” Gavin said as Jamie used the tongs to pull one out of the warmer.

Jamie had seen less food at a Shoney’s. “How many people live here?” No shortage of places to sit at the long table.

“The four of us: my father, Lily, my younger sister Honey and me. Plus Perry and Mackenzie, who is my father’s driver.”

Everything echoed in the empty dining room. “So where is everyone?”

Gavin shrugged. Jamie remembered mornings at home before he’d left. There’d never been enough time or room, one of his sisters always in the bathroom, Dad slurping coffee while Mom packed his lunchbox. This breakfast had more in common with a funeral than anything else Jamie knew. Complete with a throat-clearing thing that announced the arrival of a man in a black suit and gray tie.

“Perry, this is Mr. Jamie Donnigan.”

Jamie wasn’t sure if he was supposed to shake hands.

Perry nodded. “Officer Donnigan, I believe.”

Jamie nodded back, glad he wasn’t standing there with his hand out feeling stupid. He wondered how many guys met Perry in the morning, if it was usual for Gavin to bring a hookup back to his dad’s mansion, or if Jamie’s being there meant something different. For all he knew, Perry had nodded at a hundred tricks or got downright chummy when Gavin had his orgy buddies over.

“I received your text about holding breakfast,” Perry said. “Was there anything else you needed?”

“No, thank you. Is Lily home?”

“Mrs. Montgomery had a medical appointment this morning.”

Gavin’s quick intake of breath almost sounded like pain. “I forgot. Did she—”

“Your father accompanied her.”

Gavin nodded, jaw tight. “Thank you, Perry.”

“You’re welcome. It was a pleasure meeting you, Officer Donnigan.”

It sounded like there should be a “finally” in there, as if Perry already knew a lot about Jamie. But Perry and Gavin didn’t seem chatty like that. When Perry had vanished back to wherever secretary/security/assistants went, Jamie said, “I figured your dad probably ran a check on me before doing that hero-banquet thing. I’m guessing Perry handled that?”

“Probably.”

Which might explain Perry’s tone, but not why Gavin suddenly wouldn’t meet Jamie’s eyes. Maybe he was rethinking having a cop from Dundalk in the dining room.

The crab-egg thing was really good, better with the bacon Jamie pressed on top. As he ate he wondered if Annabelle got any of the leftovers. Maybe he’d hang on to a slice or two of bacon in case they met up.

Gavin’s fingers shifted from wrapping around his coffee cup to tapping the table to moving his fork to some precise angle on his dish. Jamie had never seen the guy look so fidgety. Time to put him out of his misery. “Hey—”

“So—” Gavin said at the same time.

“Go ahead.” Jamie threw back the rest of his coffee.

“You’re the guest.” There was the Gavin Jamie knew. Wry smiles, that fucking insouciance.

Jamie would rather toss himself out than wait to be sent on his way. “You want a lift back?”

Gavin shook his head.

“I could drop you to meet your dad and—”

“What do you usually do on your days off?”

“Today was gonna be laundry. Why?”

“Since you didn’t have to work, I thought we could do something. Take that boat ride. On one of the yachts we have lying around.”

Jamie couldn’t deny that he’d love to drive one of those fancy boats with more than rescue gear and grappling hooks on board, love a chance to open up the throttle just because he could, not because he was racing to some crisis. “I don’t know.” He leaned back, and Gavin’s gaze landed full on Jamie’s face for the first time since Perry’s entrance. “Laundry day, that’s something hard to pass up. You sure you can match that kind of entertainment?”

“I’ll do my best not to let you down.”

What Gavin called the boathouse was a barn, both stalls occupied with fifty-foot beauties, totaling an easy three million to Jamie’s harbor-practiced eye. The sail cruiser
Sweet Dreams
was an earlier model, but it could still go for three hundred K, and the rest… Jamie hoped he wasn’t drooling at the Sunseeker Motor Yacht. He’d started toward it before he could stop himself, but now paused to look at Gavin.

“The sailboat is Chip’s. College graduation present. The two of us took it down to St. Vincent.” Gavin smiled, a genuine one for that memory. “This was my mother’s.”

Jamie’s balls tingled at the thought of actually heading into the Chesapeake in that speedboat. It was crazy to think about it, to risk falling for something so beautiful when Saturday he’d be back breathing in the fumes on a patrol boat puttering along the coves. But it was too much to turn down.

Gavin, that bastard, knew it, stepping into the stern with a wide smile that showed perfect teeth. “Want to cast off?”

Jamie had Gavin pilot it out and take it around Miller Island before giving into Gavin’s urging and his own itching hands. The cockpit was open to the air, the roof tipped back, May Day sun bouncing off the gleaming bow. The power flowed under his feet, water rushing, then flying by. After they passed under the Route 50 bridge, Gavin shouted at him to open it up, and they touched fifty-five passing Poplar Island, the boat skimming along like it was gliding on ice. Jamie’s pulse pounded under his skin, every inch of him alive with the wind and the vibration and spray.

Another forty minutes brought them close to the Virginia border. Gavin tapped the navigation system that showed a trip east toward some islands, and Jamie had him take over again.

As Jamie eased the throttle back, he heard Gavin laugh.

“Never thought you’d be so willing to let me drive.”

“Yeah, well, when it’s a couple of million worth of boat, you can be the one to put it aground.”

Gavin dropped the anchor near a place that was more marsh than island, pointing out the ruins of crumbled foundations. “We used to picnic on it, but it’s sinking fast.”

Jamie hadn’t thought about food, or sex, or anything much but the rush in his bones from driving the boat. Now that they were bobbing with some screaming birds for company, he realized he was starving. Breakfast was long gone. Gavin pulled a cushion off a sternward seat and revealed a cooler.