Damn it.
He fought the urge to lean into the touch. Before the incident with Z, it’d been a long time since he’d had a lover. Not that he suspected his reaction to Z was due to his abstinence as of late, because he remembered that night, knew how fucking good it had been. He’d been attracted to Z for a long time, but he’d always known it could go nowhere.
Z’s thumb brushed against Ryan’s lower lip, and he hated that he was about to give in. If Z leaned in, took control, Ryan would be hard-pressed to resist. Not that he would ever say as much, but Ryan longed for someone—namely Z—to take control, to show Ryan what it meant to submit, to allow someone else to lead.
“One of these days, I’m gonna put my mouth here again,” Z whispered, his thumb still gliding over Ryan’s lip. “And I’m not gonna stop there.”
Ryan sucked in a sharp breath. He’d never heard Z talk like that. His deep voice was rough and sensual, but it was the take-charge tone that Ryan found himself reacting to. He’d always been the one in control, the one calling the shots. It had become second nature for him to lead, so the fact that Z was exerting his dominance… That was fucking hot.
“And you won’t want me to stop,” Z added, leaning forward enough that Ryan could feel his warm breath against his mouth.
Just when he thought he would get the chance to feel Z’s lips on his once more, the big man moved back, his hand falling to his side as he smiled back at Ryan with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
“But I’ll let you come to terms with that a little longer.”
Ryan nodded. He had no idea what he was agreeing to.
Z’s cell phone rang, breaking the spell. While Ryan stood there, unable to speak or move, Z grabbed the phone, peered at the screen, and met Ryan’s eyes once more.
“One more thing,” Z said with a sexy grin. “Don’t be surprised when it does happen again. Because it will. Of that, I’m absolutely certain.”
Ryan stood there, still speechless as Z answered the call and disappeared back out onto the deck. Thrusting his hand through his hair, Ryan tried to catch his breath.
This was more than he’d anticipated, and he didn’t know how to move forward from there. When he was with Z, he felt alive, normal even. He felt as though he could be himself and not be judged. The fact that he really couldn’t cook hadn’t seemed to faze Z one bit. Instead of bitching that the chicken was ruined, he’d called for pizza.
God, what was he going to do?
He thought back to Kevin and his stomach churned.
He and Kevin hadn’t been exactly happy when things had gone to shit, but they’d been trying. More accurately, Ryan had been trying to make it work. They’d even talked about moving in together, but that had been put on hold because they’d been fighting so much.
And then, Kevin had done the unthinkable. He’d blown Z and Trace’s cover, nearly getting them, as well as their client, killed in the process, and Ryan still wondered if it had been intentional. A way to get back at Ryan because things weren’t going his way. That fuckup had cost Kevin his job and ultimately was the demise of their relationship. But Kevin had taken it a step further, accusing Ryan of sexual harassment. Claimed that Ryan had seduced him, then told him if he didn’t sleep with him, he’d be fired. Kevin had even gone so far as to state the only reason that Sniper 1 had fired him was because he’d ended the relationship with Ryan.
None of it was true, but it had tarnished Ryan’s outlook on relationships.
Only he’d entertained the notion of being with Z for at least three years now, and no matter how many times he told himself that business and pleasure didn’t mix, he was having a damn hard time believing it. Especially after…
Fuck. He had to stop thinking about that night. It was a waste of time.
He could deny himself all day long, but the truth was, he wanted Z. Only he couldn’t have him. Not permanently, anyway. There was no way Ryan could risk something like what had happened with Kevin. That damn lawsuit had been a nightmare. It’d been the result of a perfect storm, one Ryan still didn’t quite understand.
Ryan paced, his hands still gripping his hair.
But this was Z. He’d been around during the Kevin debacle. He’d stood by Ryan and the Sniper 1 team through it all. Surely he wouldn’t…
This was stupid. Ryan knew he shouldn’t be contemplating the idea of sleeping with Z again. Briefly or otherwise.
But what he wouldn’t give to be able to give in, take what he wanted, enjoy Z while he had him, and then walk away. They could still be friends at the end. Maybe. And if not, then he could still be Z’s boss.
Couldn’t he? Lightning didn’t strike the same place twice, right?
With a rough growl, Ryan turned away from the window and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator before heading into the living room. He needed a distraction. And not the prime, no-holds-barred, alpha male who was tempting him beyond reason, either.
So he’d just have to settle for some television.
FIFTEEN
GOD, HE HATED THESE STUPID fucking sit-down dinners. Couldn’t the rich bastard do anything half-assed? Seriously, did there have to be so many people invited? There was no special occasion. It was just dinner.
“They’re really cute together,” the rich guy said, his usual flamboyant animation causing the others to grin and smirk.
Smiling when appropriate, he kept a close eye on Jericho while stirring his food around his plate, pretending to be interested when the only thing he wanted to do was get up and go. He wasn’t hungry. Not anymore, anyway. Mostly because he had no idea why he had to come to this stupid dinner.
For the last half hour, the loony bastard had gone on and on about a couple of friends he’d met with earlier that day. The king and queen of the Alpha Gay Squad, Jericho had said, giggling mercilessly at his own joke. When anyone had tried to get backstory on who these guys were, Jeri had provided limited information, which had only raised his hackles.
Now was not the time for Jeri to be getting cozy with friends from his past. He needed him to stay focused. At this point, he’d already invested too much, and he wasn’t interested in Jeri’s personal life. As it was, he shouldn’t have been there, sitting down at this table with all these people, pretending as though he actually liked them. The plan had been to convince Jeri to put that damn painting in the gallery, and then the next step was to steal it.
How freaking hard was that?
Sure, after a little prompting, Jeri had moved the painting to the gallery as suggested, or so he’d thought. Except that fucking painting he’d put in the gallery had been a fake.
A fucking fake that could very well get him killed if he attempted to pass it off as the real thing, which he’d almost done. It still boiled his blood to think that he’d been duped. By Jericho Ardent, no less. Seriously, the guy was…a freak. He walked around this ostentatious mansion like it was his castle, ruling the world from behind his desk, controlling every damn thing.
And to think the crazy fuck had pulled one over on him.
Sad thing was—despite how crazy Jeri seemed—he actually liked the guy. Jeri was nice when he wanted to be. It wasn’t a hardship to use him, that was for sure. But he had a plan, and it wasn’t going the way he’d anticipated.
He still remembered the day he’d stolen the painting right off the wall in the gallery. It’d been easier than he’d anticipated, but mostly because no one suspected him. Fortunately, rather than sell it to the highest bidder instantly, he had waited, wanting to see what Jeri’s reaction would be to its disappearance, all while pretending not to know what had happened. And he’d never forget the look on Jeri’s face when he’d come down to the gallery to see the empty space on the pristine white wall where the painting had originally been.
“Good thing I replaced it with a fake,” Jeri had said, throwing him completely off his game.