For a second, Atticus was sure Jericho was going to just turn and leave, pretend the whole thing had never happened. Instead, he pressed his forehead to his, then kissed the tip of his nose. “Thanks, Freckles. I think I needed that.”
Atticus was used to cocky Jericho, teasing Jericho. This Jericho was different but no less enticing. This Jericho had needed solace and it was Atticus who’d given it to him. Atticus, the psychopath, had made Jericho feel a little bit better after a super shitty day. That shouldn’t have made him feel good but it did.
“I’m sorry if I just sprang Lucas on you. I was afraid you might hear the word psychic and run before he could show you he was legit.”
Jericho nodded, a small smile tugging at the left corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I probably would have.” He looked away and then back, the tiny trace of humor replaced by a look of utter desolation. “What do I do now?”
“You didn’t recognize the man Lucas described?”
Jericho shrugged. “I live in a pretty rough neighborhood. Tall guy with brown hair, brown eyes, and tattoos? Hell, he could be talking about anybody, even me.”
Atticus nodded. “I’ll ask Lucas to give the description to our analyst, Calliope. See if she can run it against NCIC to look for felons with those tattoos. Maybe if we have some hits, Lucas can narrow it down to our guy.”
“Why are you doing this for me?” Jericho added.
“Because my father raised me to act like a decent human being even if I’m not,” he lied. Jericho’s face fell at Atticus’s generic answer, and that heavy weight in Atticus’s chest was back. He didn’t want to be the reason Jericho looked like that. He couldn’t be. He grabbed Jericho, pulling him back in, forcing himself to be honest. “Also, because seeing you upset makes me feel…unsettled.”
“Unsettled?” Jericho asked, a heat rushing into those dark brown eyes that definitely finally had his dick taking notice.
Atticus nodded. “Yeah, I don’t want you to be sad. I like when you’re…you.”
“And who am I?” Jericho teased, a tinge of cockiness returning to his voice.
Atticus smirked. “The guy who flirted with a psychopath next to a dead body.”
“I couldn’t help myself.” Jericho swayed into his space, running his tongue along the seam of Atticus’s lips before pulling away again. “You just don’t like taking care of me. I think you want me to take care of you.”
It wasn’t said with any malice, but Atticus bristled just the same. “I just don’t like doing things I’m not good at. I’m not good at taking care of people. And I don’t need anybody to take care of me.”
Jericho snaked his fingers through Atticus’s belt loops, tugging him closer. “Now, that’s a lie, Freckles. And lying is a sin. You just took very good care of me.” Atticus hated the way he flushed at the compliment. “But you can’t hide from me. Your neediness radiates off of you. Your need to be perfect. Your need to be the best.” Jericho grew bolder as Atticus swallowed audibly. “I don’t mind babying you, Freckles. I don’t mind all those big feelings you pretend you don’t have. I like taking care of you.”
“You don’t even know me.”
Jericho snorted. “I’d wager I know you better than almost anyone.” He gripped his chin. “Does anybody else know how easily you submit?” He captured Atticus’s bottom lip with his teeth, tugging gently, before letting it go. “Does anybody else know how you sound when you moan my name, when you beg me to fuck you, how your eyes get all cloudy when I tell you to open up for me?”
Atticus could feel himself falling under Jericho’s spell. Whatever magic his words carried pulled him under to that place where nothing mattered but him.
A shriek erupted, bouncing around the tiles of the empty bathroom. Atticus’s heartbeat skyrocketed until he realized it was his phone.
Jericho stepped away from him. Atticus pulled his phone free from his pocket, groaning when he saw it was his baby brother, Adam.
“Yeah?” he answered.
There was no small talk. “Family meeting. Devon’s on 3rd. Back room. Now.”
“What? Why not at Dad’s?”
Adam ignored his question. “Thirty minutes.”
Adam ended the call, leaving Atticus to stare at his phone. Finally, he looked up. “I have to go. Family stuff. Talk later?” Jericho nodded. Atticus swallowed hard. “Maybe you could come to my place tonight?”
Jericho grinned. “Yeah, I can do that. That way you don’t keep my brother up all night screaming my name again.”
Atticus glowered at him. “I did not scream your name.”
“Whatever you say. See you tonight.”
Then he was gone.
