"Lover At Last" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ward, J.R.)

Opening his eyes, he stared into the darkness. The sound of his breath punching in and out of his chest made him curse again. So did his pounding need for an orgasmтАФwhich he refused to give in to.

He was not going to take this any furtherтАФ

From out of nowhere, that image of Qhuinn arched under the falling spray slammed into his brain, taking over everything. Against his higher reasoning, and his loyalty, and his sense of fairnessтАжhis body went into instant overload, the orgasm shooting out of his cock before he could stop it, before he could tell it no, that wasnтАЩt rightтАжbefore he could say, Not again. Never again.

Oh, God. The sweet, stabbing sensation repeated over and over until he wondered if it was ever going to endтАФeven though he didnтАЩt help things along.

This physical reaction might be outside of his control. His response to it was not.

When he finally stilled, his breath was harsh and the coolness across the bare skin of his chest suggested heтАЩd broken out in a sweatтАжand as his body recovered from the rush, his awareness returnedтАФand his deflating erection was like a barometer of his mood.

Reaching forward, he patted over the desk until he found his shirt; then he wadded it up and pressed the thing into the juncture of his thighs.

The rest of the mess he was in was not going to be so easy to clean up.



Across town, on the eighteenth floor of the Commodore, Trez sat in a sleek steel-and-leather chair that faced a wall of windows overlooking the Hudson River. The noonday sun was shining down from a crystal clear, chrome-like sky, everything ten times brighter because of the fresh snow that had fallen overnight on the shores.

тАЬI know youтАЩre there,тАЭ he said dryly, taking a sip from his coffee mug.

When there was no reply, he spun his chair around on its swival base. Sure enough, iAm had come in from his bedroom and was sitting on the couch, iPad on his lap, forefinger striping across the screen. He would be reading the New York Times online edition, of course; he did that every morning when they got up.

тАЬWell,тАЭ Trez bit out. тАЬGo on.тАЭ

The only response he got was one of iAmтАЩs brows lifting. For, like, a split second.

The smug bastard wouldnтАЩt even look over. тАЬMust be a fascinating article. WhatтАЩs it about? Recalcitrant brothers?тАЭ

Trez passed some time nursing his hot coffee. тАЬiAm. Seriously. This is bullshit.тАЭ

After a moment, his brotherтАЩs dark stare lifted. The eyes that met his were, as always, completely uncluttered of emotion and doubt and all the messy stuff that mere mortals struggled with. iAm was preternaturally sensibleтАжrather in the way of a cobra: watchful, intelligent, ready to strike, but unwilling to waste the power until it was needed.

тАЬWhat,тАЭ Trez ground out.

тАЬItтАЩs redundant to tell you what you already know.тАЭ

тАЬHumor me.тАЭ He took another draw off the rim of the mug, and wondered why the hell he was volunteering for this. тАЬGo on.тАЭ

iAmтАЩs lips pursed the way they did when he was considering his response. Then he flopped the red cover of the iPad down, each of the four sections landing like footsteps across the screen. He then put the thing aside, uncrossed his leg, and leaned forward to balance his elbows on his knees. The guyтАЩs biceps were so thick, the sleeves of his shirt looked like they were going to split wide.

тАЬYour sex life is out of control.тАЭ As Trez rolled his eyes, his brother kept on talking. тАЬYou are fucking three or four women a night, sometimes more. ItтАЩs not about feeding, so donтАЩt waste either of our time by excusing it in that fashion. You are compromising the professional standards ofтАФтАЭ

тАЬI run liquor and prostitutes. DonтАЩt you think thatтАЩs a little highbrowтАФтАЭ

iAm picked up the iPad and waved it back and forth. тАЬShould I go back to reading?тАЭ

тАЬIтАЩm just sayingтАФтАЭ