“I want to get mixed up with you,” he says, his voice rough. “The rest of it…we can figure it out. I’ve been thinking about what you said. About stepping back, about keeping me safe.” Hedrops his gear bag, takes a step closer. “And you know what I decided?”
“What?”
“Fuck that.”
Before I can react, he closes the space between us, puts his hands on either side of my face, and kisses me.
I should push him away. Should remind him we’re in the team facility where anyone could walk in. Should stick to the professional boundaries I’ve been trying so hard to maintain.
Kind of hard, if I’m being honest.
Instead, I’m kissing him back like my life depends on it.
“Not here,” I manage against his mouth when we break apart, both breathing hard.
“Where?”
“My hotel. Twenty minutes.”
He nods, pupils dark, lips already swollen from our kiss. “I’ll follow you.”
My hotel room is nothing special. Generic furniture, bare walls. The FBI got me a room here knowing I wouldn’t be staying long enough to create roots. But right now, with Tate pressed against the door, it feels like the center of the universe.
I unlock the door and we fall into the room, unable to keep our hands and mouths off of each other.
“You sure about this?” I ask as my hands tug his belt off.
“Shut up,” he says and pulls my shirt over my head.
We’re a tangle of hands and mouths and desperation, so much tension finally finding an outlet and ready to explode. My skin prickles with anticipation, his body pressed tight against me.
This is bad. It can’t end well. Under any circumstances.
But he forces all of those thoughts to the dark recesses of my mind and I let them go, diving face first into the lust.
He pushes me toward the couch. I land on my back, and he follows me down, settling between my legs.
“I’ve been thinking about this,” he says in a husky voice, his heated gaze melting my insides. “Every night since the equipment room.”
“I have too.” My hands find the hem of his shirt, and I yank it over his head. “And, fuck, I want you.”
He’s gorgeous, smooth bronze skin, cut muscle and swirls of ink that cover his pecs. But as I gaze at him, my gut knots with the knowledge that whatever we have…tonight, tomorrow, or the next day…it’s all temporary.
I grit my teeth. I can’t think about that right now. Tonight, he’s mine.
I run my hands over his chest, down his abs, watching his face as he reacts to my touch.
“What else do you want?” he asks.
“Everything,” I say. “I want to taste every inch of you. I want to fuck you until you can’t remember why you ever thought this was a bad idea.”
“Jesus, Zane.” His breath hitches as he tugs my belt open. “Stop talking and do it.”
I flip us over, pinning his back to the couch, and his gasp of surprise shoots straight to my cock. He’s so fucking hot like this…face flushed, eyes half-hooded, hair messed up from my hands, looking at me like I’m everything he’s ever wanted.
And I want to be.
“You’re so fucking incredible,” I tell him, trailing kisses down the side of his throat. “Do you know that? Do you know what you do to me?”
