Shades of Gray (15 page)

“Did your mom ever stand up for you?”

Danny huffed out an angry laugh. “Hell, no. She just stood back and let him beat the shit out of me. I’m sure she was scared too. But still….”

“You were her kid,” Miller finished quietly.

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“Yeah.”

When Miller turned to look at Danny, an errant raindrop landed in the middle of his forehead. Danny brushed it away from Miller’s cold skin, felt the rough edge of ice under his fingers. “It’s gonna start sleeting, I think.”

“Told you this walk was stupid,” Miller pointed out, picking up the pace.

They were a block from the apartment, the rain gathering force, when Danny heard the footsteps behind them. Just a soft crunch of leaves, but he knew what to listen for. Miller stiffened next to him, his hand coming up to bump against Danny’s arm.

“Danny,” Miller whispered, “there’s—”

But Danny didn’t wait to hear the rest. He’d been taking care of himself for years now, the idea of placing his safety in another man’s hands as alien as a walk on the moon. He reached down, pulled the Sig Sauer from his waistband in one fluid movement, and pivoted, arms outstretched, gun pointed directly at the head of the man behind them.

“Don’t fucking move,” Danny commanded, his voice as icy as the rain spattering against his face.

“Whaaaa,” the man moaned, his face frozen, eyes and mouth large O’s of surprise. His leashed dog leapt crazy circles around his legs.

“Danny!” Miller hissed. “Danny! What are you doing?”

“Who are you? Why are you following us?” Danny demanded, even though his sinking stomach had already alerted him to his mistake.

“I wasn’t, I didn’t… I’m walking my dog,” the man cried, thin rain rivulets running off his bald head and down the sides of his face.

“Danny!” Miller said again, putting a steady hand on Danny’s arm. “Put the gun down, now!”

Danny’s elbows didn’t want to move, locked with the flow of adrenaline. He pulled his hands back toward his chest slowly, his eyes 114 | Brooke McKinley

still trained on the man with the dog.

Now that the gun wasn’t pointed in his face, the dog walker was gaining some courage. “What the hell is going on?” he yelled at Miller.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Miller said, pulling out his badge. “FBI. We’re very sorry for the mix-up.”

“You could have killed me!” the man said, his voice shaking, using anger to hide his humiliation. “I’m going to report this!” They watched him scurry away, pulling his reluctant dog behind him.

“What the fuck was that, Danny?” Miller cried, as soon as the man was out of earshot. “Where the hell did you get that gun?” He made a grab for Danny’s arm, but Danny pushed him away. Nobody put their hands on him without permission, not even Miller.

“You want to get into a fist fight out here?” Danny asked.

“Because you try to grab me again and that’s what’s going to happen.”

“We need to get back to the apartment,” Miller said, his voice pulsing with fury. He waited for Danny to pass him on the sidewalk but didn’t try to touch him.

IF MILLER had ever been this angry in his life, he couldn’t remember it. It had never happened to him before, but the mythical red haze descended over his eyes, clouding his vision as he stomped up the stairs to the apartment. He waited just long enough to close and lock the door behind them before he rounded on Danny.

“I asked you where you got that gun.” His voice was deadly and low.

Danny didn’t look up from where he was leaning against the wall, bent over with fingers working at the laces on his boots, icy beads of rain gathered in his hair like diamonds.

“Did Griff bring it to you?” Miller asked, taking a step closer, his hands balled into fists.

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Danny shrugged, giving him a bland look. “I needed protection.

So I asked him to bring me a gun. Griff and I, we watch each other’s backs.”

Miller’s barked out a venomous laugh he didn’t recognize as his own. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Danny’s eyes blazed. “Fuck you,” he said, tearing off his jacket and throwing it with violent aim.

Miller arched backward, water splattering his face as the leather missile sailed past. “Give me the goddamn gun, Danny.”

“No.”

“Give. It. To. Me.”

“No,” Danny repeated. “I’ve been taking care of myself for years now. I’ve saved myself from situations you probably can’t imagine in your worst nightmares. I need protection.”

“You’re a convicted felon. You can’t have a gun.”

“Are you serious? At this point, I’m not too worried about technicalities. I’m worried about staying alive.”

“If you were so worried, you should have talked to me,” Miller said, coming around the couch to stand in front of Danny. “I’m the one who’s protecting you. Not your fucking boyfriend!” He spit out the word like rotten food in his mouth.

You’re mine, Danny. Not his. Mine.

Danny took a step away from the wall, his face a centimeter from Miller’s. “You volunteering to take his place then, Miller? Didn’t think you were interested, seeing as how you’re not gay. Right?” Danny asked, voice smooth.

“Right,” Miller said, his jaw grinding together until his teeth ached.

“That’s what I thought.” Danny pulled off his remaining boot with one hand. “Hate to break it to you, but having you as the sole barrier between Madrigal and me isn’t that comforting. I still need the gun.”

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“No, you don’t!”

Danny whipped his face up into Miller’s, his green eyes wild.

“What about when you’re out fucking Rachel?” he cried. “Who’s going to protect me then?”

Miller jerked backward, feeling Danny’s words like a slap.

“You think I’m so stupid I can’t tell what you’ve been doing?

Think I can’t fucking smell her all over you?” Danny shouted.

Miller was done playing, done with whatever trap Danny was trying to push him into. “Give me that gun!” He reached both arms behind Danny, grasping for the weapon, their hands scrabbling against each other. He winced as his sore knuckles slammed against Danny’s defensive fingers.

“Like today, for example,” Danny panted from between gritted teeth, hands still battling Miller’s at the small of his back, their chests pressed together. “What if Madrigal had shown up while you were out screwing around with Rachel? What then?”

“I wasn’t with Rachel,” Miller yelled. “I don’t want to fuck Rachel. I want to—” Miller choked on his words, pushing himself away from Danny.

They stared at each other in silence, both of them breathing hard.

Danny’s jaw was still tight with anger, but his eyes were gentle when he spoke. “Being with her isn’t going to make it go away, Miller.

It isn’t going to stop that hunger, that wanting. Believe me, I know. I married my Rachel, remember?”

“Shut up!” Miller cried, wanting to close Danny’s mouth, stop any more painful truths from spewing out. He shoved Danny into the wall, pinning him between his arms, bringing his mouth down hard.

The lips under his were cold, but Danny’s tongue sizzled with heat.

Miller pushed his way inside, Danny’s mouth opening wide and accepting, inviting him in. Danny’s tongue ran across the roof of his mouth, back to front, making Miller shiver and gasp.

“Ah, God,” he moaned, taking a shuddering breath against Danny’s lips. He didn’t know who he was talking to or what he was Shades of Gray | 117

asking for. He lifted his hands off the wall, resting them on Danny’s wet face, whisking rain drops onto the floor as he combed his fingers through the thick, dark hair.

It felt just as good this time, just as right—the combination of soft lips and rough stubble, the hands grasping his hips strong and demanding, the deep voice murmuring into his mouth, the taste of desire easing his jealousy, the balm of friendship blunting the jagged edge of his anger.

Miller pulled himself away, not wanting to stop but not sure how to go forward. He looked down, his eyes drawn to Danny’s chest where his rain-wet T-shirt stuck to his skin. The outline of Danny’s muscles was visible against the thin material, his chest hair dark and matted underneath.

Miller’s hand rose, wanting to explore, but he checked its forward progress, fingers hovering. Danny looked down, then back up, his eyes hot and heavy-lidded.

“It’s all right,” he whispered. “You can touch me.” Danny grasped the bottom of his T-shirt, easing it over his head and letting it drop from his fingers to form a white puddle on the floor. Miller sucked in air violently as his palm came up against Danny’s bare stomach, the skin cold and damp against his fingers. Miller’s other hand joined the first, spreading wide across Danny’s torso, his thumbs carving a path between Danny’s ribcage. He could feel the hard ridges of muscle tightening under his fingers and Danny’s heart thundering under his hand.

“Yes,” Danny whispered as Miller’s fingers moved higher, his thumbs brushing across Danny’s nipples. “Fuck yes, just like that….” Miller tried to hold back, to go slow, to stay in control, but the feel of Danny, the sound of his voice, husky and slurred, and the smell of his skin combined to push him over the edge—falling from the precipice he’d been balancing on since the moment he’d met Danny Butler.

Without warning he grabbed Danny’s arms, spinning him to face the wall, pushing up behind him roughly.

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“Miller, what… uh… Jesus,” Danny groaned, his hands flexing on the smooth walls as Miller ran his tongue down his back, following the curves of the snake coiled between Danny’s shoulder blades. Miller licked the colors, blue, purple, and green passing beneath his tongue.

Only at that moment did he acknowledge to himself how much he’d been aching to do this, to claim Danny’s marked back as his own.

Miller slid his arms around to the front of Danny’s body, his fingers hooking into Danny’s collarbone, his chin nestled in Danny’s neck, spearing the hoop in Danny’s ear with the tip of his tongue and tugging gently against the cold metal. Miller could feel Danny’s gun pressed into his stomach and reached between them, plucking it from its resting place.

Danny spun around, his head knocking against Miller’s as he turned to him with wary eyes.

“It’s in the way,” Miller explained. He moved away from Danny, setting the gun on the table, placing his own next to it. Not giving the weapon back but not taking it away, either. Calling a truce.

“Come here,” Danny commanded, and the sex in his voice made Miller’s spinal cord vibrate like a plucked wire.

As soon as Miller was in touching distance, Danny lashed out, grabbing Miller’s sweater in both hands and wrenching it over his head, heedless of wool catching on nose and ears. They struggled with Miller’s undershirt, four hands making the simple task complicated, the material ripping as Danny pulled it free.

The feel of Danny’s bare chest against his own wasn’t something Miller had spent time contemplating, not like thoughts of kissing Danny or driving into his body. But the sensation was so different from holding a woman, so much better, that for a moment Miller forgot how to breathe. All Danny’s unforgiving muscles rubbed against his own.

The hair on Danny’s chest tickled and teased Miller’s skin. There was nothing fragile on Danny, nothing delicate, every inch of him the definition of a man.

Danny’s mouth covered his, his teeth nipping against Miller’s lower lip, his tongue following behind and easing the welcome sting.

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Danny’s hands pushed between their bodies, tearing at Miller’s jeans, pulling the buttons through the well-worn holes with shaking fingers.

“Danny, I—” Miller breathed.

“Do you want to stop?” Danny whispered.

“No.” And it was the truth. There wasn’t one part of Miller that wanted to turn back; even that voice in his head hushed into momentary silence.

“We can go slow. We don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for.” Danny brushed his fingers against Miller’s jaw.

Miller nodded, not sure what slow meant to Danny and too fucking terrified to ask.

Danny smiled, his shuffling feet edging Miller backward toward the sofa. “Right now I want to taste you,” he said, still quiet. Miller felt the words all the way through his body. “Take you in my mouth. Is that all right?”

Miller couldn’t answer; his vocal cords were frozen, his neck muscles throbbed with anticipation, and his whole body was threatening to fly apart from the lust expanding in his chest. Even with his senses reeling out of control, he noticed that Danny had asked if he could do more, the same way he had before their first kiss. Miller wondered if it was because of what had happened to him in prison; if Danny was forever haunted by memories of those times he wasn’t given the option of refusing. The thought made Miller’s throat ache and he pressed Danny against his body, kissing him wet and deep, not separating until the need to gasp in a lungful of air was stronger than the pleasure.

Miller’s calves bumped against the sofa, Danny bending with him as he sat, his tongue following the vein on Miller’s neck. A slow, sexy grin spread across Danny’s face as he climbed Miller’s body, straddling him, his hands tangling in Miller’s hair as they kissed. Miller wound his hands around to grab Danny’s ass, pushing off with his feet to pivot sideways, taking Danny down on the sofa underneath him.

Their jeans and shorts were shoved down in tandem, tangling 120 | Brooke McKinley

around their knees, the friction as they rubbed together making Miller groan against Danny’s neck.

“Roll over,” Danny whispered. “I want to look at you.” Miller rolled onto his side, facing Danny, his eyes following Danny’s down the length of their bodies. He watched as Danny touched him, lightly at first, just a finger up and down, then taking Miller in his fist with slow strokes, the rhythm increasing as Miller lifted his hips.

“Christ, Danny,” Miller said breathlessly, sucking the smooth flesh of Danny’s neck.

Miller reached his own hand between them and found Danny, hot and smooth under his fingers. Danny moaned against his shoulder, his face turned into the sofa as Miller dragged the rough pad of his thumb over the tip of his cock.