Getting Hotter (Out of Uniform #8)

“Sorry I’m late,” Aidan said in that deep, easygoing voice of his. “I had a dinner date and it ran late.”


Uh-huh. Of course he’d had a date. There was no shortage of women in Aidan’s life, or at least that’s what Dylan had witnessed the week he’d stayed at the guy’s condo. Aidan seemed to have a date every damn night. And every damn night, he’d take the chick into his bedroom and fuck her. Hard. So hard that all Dylan could hear was the goddamn thump-thump-thump of that headboard banging into the wall.

Not that he was jealous or anything.

“Beer’s in the fridge,” Carson said as he tossed a few green chips into the growing pile in the middle of the table. “Help yourself, Rhodes.”

Dylan noticed that Aidan didn’t even spare him a look as he headed for the kitchen. Just as well. God knew they’d exchanged enough looks during the week they’d roomed together. They’d completely exceeded their look quota, actually.

All the tension that had slowly been draining away seeped right back into Dylan’s body, congealing into an uneasy pretzel in his gut. For the next hour, he put on a good act, trash-talking, joking, laughing, but the entire time, he was wholly aware of Aidan on the other side of the table.

At one point, their eyes met and he could swear Aidan’s mouth took on a hint of a smirk.

After losing his second buy-in, he threw down his cards with a groan. “I’m sitting out the next round. I need to regroup here.”

Cash grinned at him. “Why don’t you regroup your way to the kitchen and get me a beer?”

He flipped his buddy the bird, but headed to the kitchen anyway because he could use a refill himself. Sticking his head inside the fridge, he welcomed the rush of cold air, hoping it would douse the flames licking his lower body. He didn’t have a hard-on, but his dick was aching. A dull, continuous ache, his cock’s way of expressing its unhappiness over Dylan’s refusal to give it what it wanted.

“So how long are you going to keep avoiding me?” Aidan’s amused voice sounded from the doorway.

He closed his eyes briefly, steeling his resolve, then ducked out of the fridge with two Coors bottles. He kept his tone light. “I’m not avoiding you.”

A chuckle. “Bull. You’ve been blowing me off for weeks.”

Damned if his dick didn’t throb at the word blowing.

Shrugging, Dylan leaned against the granite counter. “Things have been hectic. I saw you texted a few times after the night we played pool, but I’ve been hanging out with that blonde from the club so I didn’t have a chance to message you back.”

Total lie. He’d seen Rachel Carver a whopping one time. They’d had sex at her place, it had been vaguely satisfying, and he hadn’t called her since.

But Aidan didn’t need to know that.

“Speaking of the night we played pool…” Aidan cocked a brow.

“What about it?”

“You barely said two words to me, man. After you left, O’Connor asked me what I’d done to piss you off so bad.”

Shit. Matt had noticed that he’d gone out of his way not to be overly chummy with Aidan?

Of course he did, you moron. You weren’t exactly in stealth mode about it.

“So I’m thinking we cut the bull crap and address the real issue here.” Aidan crossed the room with purposeful strides, stopping when they were two feet apart.

Dylan gulped. Damn, the man looked good tonight. Black trousers, snug gray V-neck, dark hair artfully rumpled. And he smelled good too. Lemon-scented aftershave and a hint of soap.

“You wanna know what that real issue is?” Aidan prompted.

Their gazes met and held. Dylan’s pulse sped up.

With a tiny smirk, Aidan leaned closer, his lips inches from Dylan’s ear. “You want to fuck me.”

The crude observation drove a spike of lust straight into his cock.

Jerking his gaze away, he grabbed the beers from the counter and sidestepped the other man. “Cash is waiting for his beer.”

An annoyed breath sounded from behind.

“So yeah, I’ve been busy. Training, hanging out with Rachel, that kind of stuff.” Christ, why was he still talking? Just get out of the kitchen, man.

“Dylan.”

He took another step to the door.

“Dylan.” A commanding note entered Aidan’s voice.

Drawing a deep breath, he slowly turned around. “What?”

“I want the same damn thing.”

Shock slammed into him like an eighteen-wheeler. For a moment he thought he’d misheard the guy, but the heat glimmering in those dark brown eyes said otherwise.

They watched each other for a moment. The tension in the air intensified, hot and thick, liable to choke him.

“Where the hell is my beer?” Cash yelled from the living room.

Dylan was so grateful for the interruption he nearly wept with joy. “Uh…can’t keep the man waiting,” he mumbled.

And then he hurried out of the kitchen before Aidan could say another word.





Chapter Thirteen