Polar Reaction (20 page)

He threw the door open without checking the peephole first. The world swam in front of his tired eyes, but not before he noticed that there wasn’t a pair of young men standing on his stoop. It was only one man. And he wasn’t holding a Bible. He was holding a brown paper sack.

“Well, good morning to you too,” said a familiar, laughing voice.

“Oh…bloody hell.” Gregory tried to slam the door, but Jim put his hand out and stopped it before it met his face. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m bringing you breakfast.”

“Why are you bringing me breakfast?”

Jim pushed the door open further and stepped into the house. “I thought you might like some. I also thought I’d find you out in the garden.”

“Why?”

“I thought you mentioned that you two worked in the flowerbed.”

“Who is it?” Phillip shouted from the top of the stairs.

“Jim.”

“Jim?”

“We were staying in bed this morning,” Gregory explained.

Jim dragged his gaze up and down Gregory’s body. His pulse quickened at the frank appraisal. For a moment—for a mere second—he forgot Phillip was waiting upstairs. The world zeroed in to Jim Tennant’s hazel eyes, his golden hair, his white smile, and in turn, Gregory felt like the only person on the planet. He was the only person who mattered, because he was the only one Jim was smiling at.

“Did I interrupt anything?”

“What? No. No, we were asleep.”

“Late night?”

“Phillip didn’t get in until after three.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Why don’t we let him sleep and share these sausage rolls?”

“I’ll…I’ll go upstairs and see if he wants to come down and join us.”

Judging from the look on Phillip’s face, he did not want to join them. Gregory quietly shut the door behind him and smiled apologetically. “I didn’t know he was going to show up.”

“You didn’t invite him? Or mention seeing him again?”

“No. We shared a few pints, he walked me home, and that was the end of that.”

“Clearly not.”

Gregory ran his fingers over the ridge of Phil’s shoulder. “Why don’t you come downstairs and have breakfast with us? He’s a nice guy. I don’t think he meant anything by coming over this morning. Maybe that’s a common American thing.”

Phillip snorted. “No, I’m sure this is rude wherever you’re from.”

“Come down to breakfast anyway.”

“Fine. But then we’re sending him away.”

“I can live with that.”

“With the understanding that he’s not to show up here unannounced or uninvited again.”

“Absolutely.”

Phillip kissed the corner of his mouth. “Then I guess we better not keep our guest waiting.”

Gregory dressed quickly, excited to get back downstairs. He wasn’t sure the source of his excitement, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to think about it, either. But now that he was more awake, and dressed, he thought he wouldn’t mind being on the receiving end of another of Jim’s smiles.

Gregory found him in the kitchen, staring at Phillip’s kettle with a look of confusion. “I still haven’t figured out the whole tea thing.”

“We drink coffee in the morning.”

“You do?”

Gregory pointed to the coffeepot. “I’ll get it started.”

“Is Phillip coming downstairs?”

“He’ll be down in a bit.”

Gregory filled the coffeepot, studying Jim from the corner of his eye. He looked at ease. Not just at ease. He looked like he owned the entire kitchen, and Gregory was the interloper. He had the feeling that was how Jim Tennant moved through life. It was the sort of comfort and grace Gregory never felt in his own surroundings.

“Do you usually answer the door in your birthday suit?”

Warmth crawled up Gregory’s neck. “No. I thought you were…”

“Who?”

He kept his eyes trained on the coffeepot. “Missionaries.”

“You were going to flash
missionaries
?”

“I know. It’s awful. It seemed like a good idea when I was half-asleep.”

“Are you kidding?” Jim chuckled. “I think that’s the best idea I ever heard. Maybe I should pretend to be a missionary more often.”

“Nobody would believe you’re a missionary.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re not exactly a choirboy, are you?”

Jim leaned against the counter, his long legs stretched in front of him. “I actually
was
a choirboy. Do you believe me?”

“No.”

“Would a choirboy lie to you?”

“I don’t know what you’d do. I don’t really know you that well, do I?”

“You know me well enough to have breakfast with me.”

Gregory shook his head. “You’re lucky I answered the door and not Phillip. He’s not so tolerant of strange men coming around on Sunday mornings.”

Jim turned to face Gregory, propping himself up on his arm. “I’m not a strange man.”

“Yes. You are.”

“We spent most of yesterday together.”

“You could have been lying to me most of yesterday too.” Gregory flipped the coffeepot on. “We never discussed having breakfast plans, did we?”

“I was hoping you’d find breakfast with me so enjoyable, you’d agree to do it again sometime.”

Gregory turned away from him to open the fridge. The innuendo seemed obvious, but at the same time, who would have the sheer gall to make sexually suggestive comments to a man while his lover was in the house? It was too insane to consider. Not realistically, anyway.

“Gregory isn’t a big fan of breakfast,” Phillip said as he entered the room.

“Didn’t anybody ever tell him that breakfast was the most important meal of the day?”

“I guess not.”

Gregory took three mugs from the cupboard.

Jim shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t work up enough of an appetite at night.”

Gregory opened his mouth, but before he said anything, Phillip cut in. “No, it’s not that.”

There was a long pause. Gregory didn’t turn around, but he imagined Jim’s gaze traveling up and down Phillip’s body, the same way it had raked over his form earlier. “No, I guess it wouldn’t be that.”

The drawl in his voice made Gregory shiver. He glanced over his shoulder to see if it affected Phillip the same way, but his lover’s face was as impassive as ever. Of course, he’d be impassive to it. Phillip wasn’t as easily swayed, or impressed, as mere mortals.

“So, Mr. Tennant, where do you live?” Phillip asked.

“It’s Jim, please. And I actually don’t live too far from here, as luck would have it.”

“And you don’t have any friends or family to pester on Sunday mornings?”

Gregory looked up sharply. “Phil.”

Jim laughed. “It’s a fair enough question. No, I haven’t. I moved here from California. Really, just last weekend.”

Gregory felt a stab of sympathy for Jim. He would never have the fortitude to pick up and move to the other side of a planet. Not by himself. Even if he got over the fear of flying, living alone would be far too daunting.

“Gregory was the first friendly face I’ve met since I arrived in England.”

Gregory poured three cups of coffee. “Do you take cream or sugar?”

“No. Just black, please.”

“You sure?”

“Very sure.”

Phillip accepted his coffee from Gregory—with two sugars and no cream—and smiled a little. “Gregory was the first friendly face I met when I moved here too.”

“Is that so?” Jim took his coffee and sipped from the mug. “Did you rescue him on the side of the road too?”

“No. I arrested him.”

Immovable object? Meet the irresistible force.

Collision Course

© 2008 K.A. Mitchell

Paramedic Aaron Chase doesn’t have anything against love. It just comes with a lot of responsibility, like when he had to raise his sister and brothers after their drug-addicted mom took off for good. Now that the last one is off to college, Aaron’s anticipating enjoying life on his own terms. He certainly wasn’t expecting Joey Miller to accidentally drop into his life.

Joey’s sexy, funny and annoyingly optimistic, and his tendency to get into trouble keeps sending him Aaron’s way. Even the fact that Joey works for the hated social work system isn’t reason enough to keep him out of Aaron’s bed.

Joey knows all about love. He’s fallen in it ten times—he thinks. It’s not that he can’t tell the difference between sex and love. All that experience has to count for something, right? With Aaron it’s different. Maybe because there’s something to fight for.

This time Joey’s fallen for good. He’s not going to let number eleven get away.

Warning: This love story may overheat readers or the devices used to read it. Explicit male/male sex scenes involving extra penetration, toys, and spanking.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Collision Course:

They passed a dark storefront, deep inset door, and Aaron grabbed Joey’s hand, pulling him off the street. “What about here?”

Joey leaned back against the opposite wall and shrugged again. “Go ahead.” His fingers undid the top button on his jeans.

Aaron almost called his bluff—certain it was a bluff—even taking last night into consideration, Joey didn’t seem like the type for public sex. And this was too public even for Aaron. Especially considering that anyone from the bar might walk past and see him on his knees which—no.

“C’mon.” He pulled Joey onto the sidewalk again. Another block and the bike gleamed even in the humid night. “Ever ridden before?”

“Yes.” Joey’s voice was soft.

“Do not make me put my bike down.”

“I won’t. I have— Shit, a Ducati Sport Classic?”

Joey’s voice had the proper reverence. So what if even used the bike had cost more than any car Aaron’d had to take the kids to doctor’s appointments. The fucker was gorgeous and Aaron knew it. And so did Joey.

He unlocked the back case, took out his helmet and a towel, and began to wipe down the seat. Joey was still staring.

“It won’t bite.” Aaron picked up his helmet.

“God, I’d love to, but you only have one helmet.”

“No law in Florida.” He tossed Joey the helmet and straddled the bike.

Joey pulled the helmet on and climbed behind him, easy, settled. Aaron snuck a backward glance. Joey’s hands rested on his thighs, relaxed. After tightening the band holding his hair off his face, Aaron started the bike.

“Are you sure you don’t need the helmet?”

“You promise not to dump us and we’ll be fine,” Aaron yelled back. “Besides, if my brains go splat the kids get lots of insurance money.”

“Kids?”

Aaron laughed at the shock in Joey’s voice as they roared away from the curb. He was cautious on the first corner, but Joey leaned with him and the bike, not fighting it at all. He took the next one faster. Smooth sway, Joey following the lean like he was part of the bike. They stopped at a light. Four minutes, and they’d be on his bed and fucking, but he wanted to keep sharing this with Joey. The kids hadn’t liked to ride, even Dylan at his most rebellious never tried to steal the old bike Aaron’d had then. Tonight he might eat some bugs without the face shield, but… He cranked his head around. “Want to ride some more?”

“Yeah.”

The bed would be there when they got there. Reaching back for Joey’s hand, Aaron slid it around his waist. “Hold on.”

Joey wrapped both his arms around Aaron, under his jacket, a band of hard heat against the thin cotton of his T-shirt. The bike flew up the ramp, and Aaron took them over the river, Joey’s
wow
just audible over the wind in his ears. Jax was pretty at night, the bridges that crisscrossed the St. John’s lit up with yellow, blue and purple lights. Dark hid the poor parts, the rundown industrial sections, the graffitied, trashed parks.

Aaron zipped up Route 17, gunning the bike through the curves along the inlet, Joey pressed hot and tight to his back. It might as well have been public sex, the buzz of the bike on his balls, five feet seven inches of hot man draped over his back, teasing fingers stroking from his nipples to his navel on the straightaways. Aaron wasn’t the only one hard when he turned off down a side road into the state park. The dick poking his back was substantial enough to be out of proportion on Joey’s frame. Sue him, Aaron had been more interested in the heat of that ass and mouth last night.

After Aaron kicked the stand down, Joey swung off, stepping away into the dunes. With cloud cover, it was dark enough out here that after a few seconds Joey was almost invisible, even with his Tweety Bird hair.

Aaron followed. Joey stopped and flashed white teeth as he smiled. “Here?”

“I’m not too big on sand rash. I’ll take you back to my bed.”

Joey was smiling as if he knew something Aaron didn’t. Snagging the belt loop of his jeans, Joey tugged him close again. “Really want to wait?”

Aaron did. He wanted Joey in his bed, stretched out so he could get at every bit of skin, drag those husky moans out of his throat, fall asleep to the smell of sex and sweat on Joey’s warm skin, wake up and bury his morning hard-on back in Joey’s tight ass.

But Joey’s hand was already skimming the front of Aaron’s jeans, stroking him through the denim, and there was no way he could make it back to South Jacksonville without getting off first. Especially not when Joey increased the pressure before popping open Aaron’s fly. Despite the wind on the long ride, Joey’s hand was hot when it latched onto Aaron’s dick, milking a drop of precome from the tip to slick the way back down to his balls. Aaron tipped his head back and let Joey work him for a minute, anticipation tingling through every nerve. Joey’s hand was hard-edged and rough, maybe from surfing since he sure as hell didn’t get those calluses fucking up people’s lives with social-service paperwork. The calloused thumb worked over the head before Joey jacked him, quick, strong tugs that had Aaron rocking his hips.

He wanted Joey’s mouth again, but last night had been about taking. Tonight he wanted Joey to give it. He leaned in and kissed him, savoring the textures of Joey’s mouth, the rasp on the top, the glide on the bottom and the flick of the metal bar. When Aaron lifted his head, Joey gave a half smile and dropped smoothly to his knees on the grassy sand.

As Joey took the tip of Aaron’s dick between slick lips, Aaron met his dark gaze and whispered, “I’ll do you so good when we get back, swear it. Eat you ’til you come.”