Make Me (6 page)

This was what she loved about the city, anything and everything at your fingertips. But it was dangerous for someone like her, with zero impulse control. When she saw something she wanted, it was an impossibility to walk away. Now she was living in a den of temptation, having to look at a half-dressed Manny every morning. For sure finding a new apartment was tops on the to-do list.

Rebecca balanced her smoothie on top of the CD and took the stairs to the second floor in the administrative wing of the library. The place was deserted, just as she’d suspected it would be. No one else would be caught dead at work on a Sunday. No matter. She kind of liked having the place to herself. Opening the door, Rebecca wondered what outlandish decorations her colleagues might have added to her cubicle. The last time she was on assignment at the National Archives, she returned to a tacky sombrero and a piñata hung over her chair. But when she entered the office, Paula’s desk was completely cleaned out and Chaya’s was full of boxes. Rebecca’s desk looked just as she’d left it, except for the mile-high pile of mail.

She frowned, trying to make sense of it.

“What are you doing here?” Chaya’s raspy voice surprised her from behind.

Rebecca jumped, splashing her smoothie over her fingers. She shook her hand and finally licked her knuckles when it seemed the most efficient option. “Just got back yesterday and wanted to get a jump-start before tomorrow. What’s going on? Are you transferring?”

Chaya laughed, though she didn’t sound amused. “I’ve been laid off. Paula too.” She placed some books into a box, along with the pair of shoes she usually kept under her desk in case the ones she had on started to hurt her feet. “I was so mad when I found out on Friday that I just couldn’t deal with packing up my things.”

“Laid off? Why? Why now?”

“No money. The budget has been slashed to pieces.” She pointed at Rebecca. “You should count yourself lucky you still have a job.”

Rebecca didn’t know what to say. She’d have reached out to give Chaya a hug if she’d thought it was what she wanted. But Chaya was pricklier than a bayberry bush, and thorns like that have a clear message to keep your distance.

“I’m sorry,” she said at last. She wished something better would come to mind—something to properly show Chaya how terrible she felt, something to show that she cared. Rebecca’s eyes wandered to the boxes on Chaya’s desk while the awkward silence stretched thin.

“Don’t know why I voted for that woman.”

Rebecca put her smoothie down on her desk along with the rest of her things and started to help, but Chaya’s glare told her otherwise. Rebecca fiddled with a loose strand of hair instead. “Who?”

“Olivia fucking Hunter, that’s who. Where do you think the mayor’s marching orders came from?” Chaya tossed her other pair of just-in-case shoes in the box. Rebecca wondered how many butt-ugly clogs a woman could own. “With her crusade against government spending the writing was on the wall, but it just kills me. Wait, you didn’t know?”

Rebecca shook her head.

“Figures our fearless leader would wait until the last possible minute to tell you. Special Collections has been frozen. You and Mr. Tiny Balls have been sent to fundraising. Now
there’s
a department that keeps growing.”

Rebecca’s head was spinning. Why hadn’t Craig warned her of what was going on? She’d returned from DC to find her entire life turned on its head. Her face must have said it all.

“Yeah, he’s an ass. But we all knew that already, didn’t we?”

Yes, she did know it, but still? “Guess I should be packing too.”

“I’m sure he’ll sit you down tomorrow and break it to you nicely.” Chaya paused, tilting her head with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Rebecca. I really thought you knew.”

Rebecca sighed, as well. “Got an extra box?”

Chapter Four

Manny checked his gauges and then put on his headset. Command would be announcing the arrival of his passengers any minute.

Or not. A voice came over the intercom.

“I told them not to bother with giving my name. You’d probably come down with a sudden case of the measles.”

The sound washed through Manny’s body, and he felt himself react—viscerally, instinctively. He turned to see a man with sandy-blond hair climbing into the chopper. “Kyle.”

“Don’t be mad. This is business. I’m taking a large donor to see my mom.”

“And you had to request me?”

“We can talk later.” Kyle cleared his throat, and Manny saw a pair of middle-aged men approaching the aircraft. When they’d boarded, Kyle greeted them with firm handshakes and his confident, baritone voice. Manny knew this version of Kyle; he’d seen him put on the show for the rich and powerful acquaintances that encircled the Hunter family. Manny also knew it was the last thing Kyle wanted to be doing.

“Gentlemen, let me introduce you to Captain Manuel Tescadero. We flew missions together in Afghanistan. I owe this guy my hide at least three times over.”

“Very nice to meet you, Manuel.” One of the men offered his hand and then the other.

“It’s Manny.” He conjured half of a smile somehow, but narrowed his gaze at Kyle, who shrugged slightly, guiltily.

“We’ve known each other since Penn Military, where he somehow managed to get better grades than me.” Kyle fake-jabbed him in the arm, and Manny wanted to clock him for real.

Instead, Manny sniffed, letting out a bored sigh, and turned back toward the controls, powering up the rotors and lining up for takeoff. “If you’d take your seats, I’ll have you in Lake George in a little more than an hour.”

“Sure thing,” one of the men said.

Manny didn’t dare turn around to see the look in Kyle’s eyes. He didn’t dare risk what would be revealed in his own, either. The crewman on the ground shut the door, and Manny put them in the air. He focused on the flight and not the ache in his stomach, but a little more than an hour was long enough for that ache to turn into a burn.

He followed the trip instructions, landing the helicopter according to the coordinates, on the sprawling front lawn of the Hunters’ private lakeside estate. Hopping out of his pilot’s chair, he proceeded back to open the door, but Kyle already had done it.

As his guests exited, Manny hung back.

“Come up to the house,” Kyle said. “My mom would love to see you.”

Manny locked his jaw. “Hired help. I’ll stay with the chopper.”

Kyle lowered his voice, his whisper falling over Manny’s earlobe. “Don’t be like that.”

Fuck if that didn’t send a shiver over Manny’s skin. “Your guests are waiting.”

Kyle huffed, but relented. “When we get back to New York, I want to talk.”

Manny turned on his heel and climbed back into the chopper. “Whatever.”

With earbuds tucked in nice and snug, Manny kicked his feet onto the console and closed his eyes.

How long he’d be stuck trying not to think about Kyle he didn’t know. The man looked too damn good in his fitted golf shirt and dark-wash distressed jeans. Fucking Kyle. The whole special request thing should have been a dead giveaway. Why would anyone else special request him to fly to Lake George?

Except the last thing Kyle had said to Manny was that he couldn’t see him anymore. He couldn’t
be around him
anymore. The sharpness of those words still smarted. Manny cursed again, thinking he should fire up that chopper and leave Kyle’s ass stranded in the boonies, the way he had stranded Manny.

They’d been careful, just not careful enough. The sneaking around was such a fucking rush in the beginning. After that first kiss, they looked for every opportunity to explore a little more, to push the boundaries a little further. He practically felt like a virgin again, touching and trying new things.

A virgin.

A chuckle passed his lips at the thought, despite his sour mood. Dinner on base kind of lost its appeal when they realized their two other bunkmates never missed a meal. That gave them approximately thirty minutes alone every night with a ready excuse that the door was jammed if someone came back early. They never wasted time with formalities, but somehow Manny had known that night that they’d take that last step from fooling around to something more.

Kyle had sidled up behind Manny and snaked his hand around to Manny’s zipper the moment the door was secure. Manny tossed Kyle a surprised grin over his shoulder, telling him to slow down, joking about ripping his dick off. But Kyle had this wild look in his eye that practically singed Manny’s skin. They’d been toying with each other all day, not that anyone else would have noticed. An extra-long passing glance, an accidental brush of his cock against Kyle’s hand when they cleaned the chopper; they were both so turned on by chow time, it just seemed inevitable.

Kyle tugged hard on his belt, and Manny’s pants were at his ankles before he knew it. His steely shaft fell free into Kyle’s palm. Fingers wrapped tightly around him, delivering possessive, yet controlled strokes up and down the length. Manny surrendered, raising his hands above his head and linking them behind Kyle’s neck, drawing him closer and making him wish they were naked so he could feel his skin warm against his back. He pushed into Kyle’s fist, Kyle helping him with the fluid movement of his hips against Manny’s ass. Pleasure flowed through Manny like a river of good in that godforsaken desert six-thousand miles away from home.

Kyle scraped his teeth against Manny’s ear and spoke words Manny could still hear now when he closed his eyes. “I need you too much.”

One swift motion and Kyle’s mouth was on him without hesitation. Heat surrounded Manny’s shaft, and he buried his fingers in Kyle’s hair. Kyle sucked him hard, the way a cock should be sucked, and looked at him dead in the eye when Manny came in long spurts down his throat. It had happened so fast, after weeks of kissing and jerking off together. Manny knew only one thing in that moment. He wanted to be fucked, wanted to know what it would feel like to let Kyle take him to that place of vulnerability, that place where he could trust someone entirely.

Kyle rose from his knees and smiled at Manny with a look of pure satisfaction. He held his huge erection in his palm, brandishing it like a weapon. “You want this, don’t you, bro? You want it, and fuck me if I don’t want to give it to you so fucking bad.”

It was crass, the way Kyle could be sometimes. Prep school could never quite sanitize that mouth of his. Only he was right, and that cocky-ass smirk Kyle liked to give every time he’d hit the target right on the mark had Manny bending over and holding onto the railing of his bunk.

That first time, neither of them were prepared with lube. Kyle finished putting on the condom and ended up using the rest of their bunkmate’s saline solution and some spit. Manny laughed out loud at that. The poor guy had to wear his glasses instead of his contact lenses the rest of the tour.

Oh, but the way Kyle had felt sliding into him…

Manny adjusted himself and realized he was rock hard, alone in the chopper, heading down a path he’d told himself he wouldn’t go anymore.

It’s over.

It was over the moment Major Beaumont pulled Kyle and Manny into his office and told them not so kindly that the corps wasn’t a place for dicking around, especially not for the son of a US senator. The major never did like Kyle—called him Baby Bucks, as if anyone needed reminding that the trust fund waiting for him in the States would pay the whole unit’s salary for ten years.

Side by side, Manny and Kyle stood at attention, eyes straight ahead, staring at the emblem they’d sworn to honor, while Major Beaumont took his sweet time tearing them to bits. He strolled by them, eyeing Kyle with disgust.

“Captain Hunter, can you tell me what kind of Marine finds himself on his knees?”

“No, sir.” The hoarseness of Kyle’s voice drew Manny’s eyeballs toward him, without breaking form. Kyle’s face was bright red. Manny took it for rage, the same rage he felt brewing beneath the wholly necessary mask of obedience in the presence of a higher-ranking officer.

Beaumont drawled on with his Creole twang. “Far as I know, there’s only one honorable reason a Marine should ever be on his knees, and he better have the bullet wounds to show for it.” He sucked his teeth. “I don’t give a shit what the new laws say, pansy fucks like you will ruin the Corps. Not on my watch, I’ll guarantee you that.”

Manny ground his teeth and felt the bite of his barely there fingernails in his palms. It was all he could do to keep from swinging on that asshole and landing himself in the brig.

“I may not be able to sting your asses for the disgusting things I suspect you’ve been doing, but indecent exposure is a punishable crime worthy of a court-martial.”

Kyle’s head strayed toward the major for a fleeting moment before snapping straight ahead once more.

“What do you say to that, rich boy?”

Kyle swallowed hard and barely got the words out between his clenched teeth. “I am not prepared to be court-martialed, sir.”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you decided to drop trou’ for this one.” Beaumont sneered at Manny. “Tescadero on his bare ass in the sand and you pulling up your pants—you were seen, and I take it you don’t deny any of it.”

Kyle remained silent.

A laborious sigh heaved forth from the major, and he sat back down in his chair. He picked up a pen and signed some papers on his desk. “To protect the dignity of this here base, we will not press the issue this time. Your highfalutin’ mother would attract far too much attention, and
I’m
not prepared to drag the Corps’ good name through the mud.” The major raised his eyes at them and paused. Manny felt the frigid stare burn right through him. “You’ve disgraced yourselves and your country. And you best believe the next time I will nail both of your candy asses to the wall. Now get out of my face.”

Beaumont gave them a month of administrative detail on opposite sides of the base. Manny knew it could have been much worse, but Kyle took it as if the world had come to an end. Manny realized that it hadn’t been rage setting Kyle’s mouth flat and his squinting eyes glassy; it had been shame. Manny didn’t recognize it, because he’d never seen Kyle ashamed of anything before.