"Nine-tenths of the Law" - читать интересную книгу автора (Witt L A)

Chapter Ten

Hands on my hips made my spine straighten, and my knees nearly buckled. Following my belt, his hands moved from my hips to my stomach, but I lost track of them when he exhaled softly against the side of my neck. He kissed just above my collar, his lips lingering there long enough for him to draw and release a few more slow, deep breaths, letting each in turn whisper across my skin.

I reached back, combing my fingers through his hair as he kissed his way up my neck. My other hand sought and found his, the warmth of his skin tingling against my fingertips. He pulled me closer to him, his hard cock pressing against me and making the ache below my own belt almost unbearable.

When his lips left my neck and his arms suddenly released me, I exhaled hard as if I’d been holding my breath. Maybe I had been. All I knew or cared about was that he wasn’t touching me anymore. Just before I could panic at the sudden inch of space between us, he put his hands on my shoulders and gently turned me around to face him.

He leaned in as if to kiss me, but paused, just looking at me. At my lips, I think. He touched my face, running his thumb just below my cheekbone. I briefly regretted shaving, wishing I could feel the gentle hiss of skin across stubble, but that thought evaporated-along with my balance-when our eyes met.

Though we’d certainly kissed a few times already, there was something electric about the distance between us now, about the anticipation of this kiss.

When he drew me in, my pulse jumped with each fraction of an inch that disappeared between us, until our lips were almost touching. His thumb moved below my cheekbone again, that gentle contact distracting me for a fleeting second, just long enough so that when he kissed me, he caught me by surprise. The startled shiver that ran down my spine pushed me closer to him, and he welcomed me with a tighter embrace, a deeper kiss.

His mouth was cool with the suggestion of mint, and every breath I took was him: musky, masculine, a vague hint of cologne. His fingers moved from my face into my hair while his other hand followed my spine down to my lower back. Once there, he didn’t pull me closer, didn’t draw me against him. Instead, he held me in place and pressed his hips against mine, letting me feel the heat of his erection even through both of our clothes. I was sure that when skin finally touched skin, we’d burn each other, but I was more than willing to go up in smoke if it meant touching him.

I slid my hands under the back of his shirt, but couldn’t be sure whose gasp broke the kiss. Our mouths separated, but we didn’t. He rested his forehead against mine, closing his eyes and taking an uneven breath as my hands moved farther up his back.

“Jesus,” he breathed. His voice, barely more than a whisper, startled me, and it took a moment to realize it was because that was the first thing either of us had said since I’d arrived. Since hours ago, at the theatre. Since I’d spent half the day wondering if this was a bad idea.

I swallowed hard as he kissed my neck. “Are you sure we should be doing this?”

“No,” he whispered against my neck. “In fact, I’m pretty sure we shouldn’t.” His hands slid under my shirt as he raised his head and looked me in the eye. “But I want to.” He kissed me again. Passionately. Breathlessly. Desperately.

I’m supposed to think this is wrong.

His fingers trembled, then tightened in my hair, as if he was afraid I’d pull away.

If this is wrong, I don’t remember why.

His lips barely leaving mine, his voice wavering as if he was on the verge of losing control, he whispered, “I want you so fucking bad, Zach.”

If this is wrong, I don’t care.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said.

In a low, ragged growl, he said, “Thank God.” The pad of his thumb ran along my jaw and his hand rested on the side of my neck. “I don’t even know why I left last time.”

“Because we were there for all the wrong reasons?”

He shrugged, then nodded. “Probably. But that was then. This is now.”

Something in my mind relaxed, as if up until that moment, I wasn’t sure why we were here. If we were here for the same reasons as before, or if this was something else.

“This isn’t about Jake anymore, is it?” I said quietly.

He smiled and kissed me. “Not even a little. The other night had everything to do with that son of a bitch.” He ran his fingers through my hair and kissed me lightly. “Tonight has nothing to do with anyone outside this room.” He paused. “And speaking of which, I think we should take this into another room.”

I said nothing, only nodded. I was in his house. In his arms. Now moving into his bedroom. Each time we moved closer to the inevitable, it startled me as if I kept expecting us to step back instead of forward. Or expected him to come to his senses, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to.

The bedroom was on the second floor. The whole way up the stairs and down the hall, we could barely keep our hands off each other. Halfway up the stairs, I stopped and pulled him into a kiss, using the wall for balance when I couldn’t quite rely on my legs. A few steps later, he gently leaned me against the wall and squeezed my hard, aching cock through my jeans. More than once I was certain we wouldn’t make it to the bedroom before one of us pulled the other to the floor, especially when we stopped a few feet shy of the bedroom door for another breathless kiss.

Without breaking the kiss, he shifted his weight to one side, then the other. A dull thud told me he’d kicked his shoes off. Probably shoved them aside so we wouldn’t trip over them.

First article of clothing off. I pulled him closer. This is really happening. With the toe of one shoe, I pushed off the other, kicking it aside. Then the other. My foot brushed against his and even that warmth, that contact, took my breath away. Christ, Nathan, what are you doing to me?

He broke the kiss, but was still close enough that his breath whispered across my lips when he spoke. “We should-” He cut himself off, kissing me again.

“Should-” I kissed him. I couldn’t get enough. Finally, I managed, “Should what?” But I couldn’t wait for an answer before I sought his mouth again, tangling my fingers in his hair as I kissed him.

“Bedroom,” he finally murmured, but he made no effort to move. I couldn’t move until he did. Even then, I wasn’t so sure I could.

After a moment, he stepped back, but still made no move toward the bedroom. Instead, he just looked at me, at his own hands running up my sides, his face mirroring my own desperation and disbelief.

His hands came together at my collar, and a second later, the first button was undone. As he went for the next, our eyes met, and the unmistakable hunger and lust in his made me thankful again for the wall keeping me upright.

His eyes were in a hurry, but his hands were in control. He unfastened each button of my shirt as if he were making contact with erogenous zones on my skin: slow, steady, one at a time. Maybe he did it to keep his hands from shaking. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out how he stayed so steady, so in control, when it took everything I had just to stay standing.

His hands followed my shirt over my shoulders and down my arms. In the same moment my shirt fell away, his lips found my neck and he slid his hand between my back and the wall. When he kissed me again, his other hand held the side of my neck, the warmth of both skin and lips making my breath catch. His hand trailed down my chest as his tongue explored my mouth.

There was something incredibly erotic about his gentle touch, more than anything I’d ever experienced. Everything we’d done before was desperate, primal, even violent, but this was different. That was black, this was white. This was the slow caress of what I’d thought was an unforgiving hand.

I thought I loved the way his skin felt on my own, but it was the muted brush of fingertips on denim that damn near made me come. His fingers drifted over my cock through my clothes, applying just a hint of pressure, just enough to say yes, I will. And I wanted him to.

“Oh, my God,” I breathed, letting my head fall back against the wall. The vibration of the separating zipper made me tremble with anticipation.

“My sentiments exactly.” He kissed my neck and continued to draw the zipper down.

My hands went from his shoulders to the wall beside me, trying in vain to grab the plaster for support. I desperately wanted to touch him and pull him closer, but the need for balance trumped even that.

“You know, I made a colossal mistake last time.” His fingers closed around my cock.

“I didn’t think you-” I paused, my breath catching as he stroked me. “I didn’t think you did a damned thing wrong.”

“Oh, I did,” he said, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke. “As far as I knew, I was never going to see you again…” He tightened his grasp, still stroking. “…and I missed the chance to see you come.”

I sucked in a breath, not entirely sure if the gasp was a result of his hand or his voice. “Jesus…”

“I felt you come,” he whispered. “I tasted it.” He kissed his way along my jaw. Just before he reached my mouth, he said, “But I didn’t get to see your face, and I’ve been kicking myself ever since.”

I closed my eyes, shuddering as his hand moved a little faster. “If you keep doing that-” Another shudder cut me off.

“Tell me, Zach.” The deep growl fell somewhere between playful and pleading.

I looked at him, trying to hold his gaze. “Fuck, Nathan, you’re-” I trailed off into a moan, pressing my palms against the wall for balance as my spine threatened to turn into pure electricity.

“Fuck yes,” he said. “I knew I missed something hot. I knew you would look incredible when you were this close.”

I wasn’t just close, I was a heartbeat away. I was on the edge, not quite there, not quite, almost… “Oh, God…” My mouth couldn’t form the words to beg him to stroke faster, but my hips said what I couldn’t, and he must have understood, because he stroked harder, faster, and just before the ache became unbearable, I felt my own throat vibrate with a groan I didn’t hear, and came.

An arm around my waist kept me upright and the hot panting against my throat kept me breathing, every exhalation reminding my lungs of their own need to release a breath. He raised his head and looked at me. There was no need for words now. We both knew what we wanted and we both knew where we needed to go to get it.

The bedroom was only a few steps away and, in spite of my shaking knees, I made it across that distance without stumbling too badly. I couldn’t be sure if Nathan’s arm around my waist made it easier or more difficult, but one way or another, I made it.

Without speaking, we separated and got rid of the last of our clothes, dropping everything in haphazard heaps around our feet. Every sound-clothes brushing over skin, muffled whispers of fabric hitting the floor, his unsteady breaths-made this more real and more unbelievable. The Zippo lighter clanked onto the nightstand and a second later, his belt buckle jingled. With a dull thud, his jeans joined mine on the floor.

In no time at all-though it felt like much too long-we’d shed the last of our clothes, leaving nothing between us but space. We didn’t touch immediately. Instead, we simply looked at each other. I hadn’t had a chance to look at him like this that first night, to really see him, but now that I could, I did.

And Jesus Christ, the man was beautiful.

Virtually hairless except for the dark vertical line below his navel and the thin shadow of hair on his forearms. Toned, like he spent a few hours a week at the gym but didn’t devote his life to it. A hint of bronze that was likely borne of leisure in the sun, not vanity in a tanning bed.

For a moment, I envied the artist that had tattooed the intricate eagle on Nathan’s left arm and the elaborate tribal band circling his right. They must have taken hours. Hours during which some lucky bastard had his hands on Nathan’s body, even if it was just his arm.

But the envy disappeared as the grin on his face broadened and he put his arms around me, kissing me again. That artist had had a hold on Nathan’s arm for a few hours.

Nathan’s arms would have a hold on me all damned night.