He opened his mouth, and James devoured him. His tongue swept alongside Kit’s, behind his teeth, exploring every corner of his mouth.
Exhilarating. Simple. True. Kit needed this.
James pulled away, his lips damp and his chest heaving. He rubbed his thumb over Kit’s lower lip. “You’re full of surprises.”
“You have no idea,” Kit breathed, and tried to pull James back down.
James only gave him the slightest peck. “Clock’s ticking. I’ll finish you in the car.” He winked and fished his phone from his pocket. “Just fixing the cameras, and—what is that?”
He pointed at the olive oil on the counter.
Kit’s arousal ebbed with the embarrassment. “Our alibi,” he said dully. “The hostess was going to go downstairs, so I intercepted her and, um. I said you were in the bathroom with me, and that you’d sent me to ask for…”
James stared in disbelief. “You asked the hostess for lube?”
Kit shrugged helplessly. “Yes? I couldn’t think of a better plan.”
James pressed an enthusiastic kiss to Kit’s forehead. “You’re amazing,” he said earnestly, then grabbed the oil.
Kit covered his face as James tipped some of the oil down the toilet and flushed. “Did you… did everything go all right?”
With the murder. With the hunt.
“Yes,” James answered easily. “Though as Bishop always says, the job isn’t over just because the guy’s dead. Scoot out of the way.” James spilled some oil on the counter, then wiped it up with a paper towel which he tossed in the trash can. “Should I jizz on the counter too, for forensics?”
“Is that necessary?” Kit asked.
“Nope.” James left the bottle, washed his hands, then straightened his clothes. Then tousled Kit’s hair. “Let’s look properly debauched for our grand exit.”
Kit scowled up at him. “I already look plenty messed up.”
“Not nearly messed up enough.” James tousled his hair again. “I’ll fix that in the limo.”
Carla had the limo waiting outside. As promised, James was on Kit as soon as the door closed.
Kit threw himself into the kiss even as he tumbled onto the leather bench. His body rubbed against James without any input from his brain, and his fingers tangled in James’s soft hair. James’s hand crept up Kit’s shirt, splaying across his bare stomach.
Pinned down and surrounded by James’s body and scent, Kit knew every part of this was a bad idea. James was arrogant. Scary. Rich, powerful, nine years Kit’s senior.
James killed a man fifteen minutes ago, with the very hands pinning Kit to the leather.
Once more, Kit had proof he was far more fucked up than he ever realized. Every bad idea only excited him more.
The limo started to move. As James bit Kit’s lower lip, Kit gasped and arched up.
“God, you taste even better than I thought you would,” James murmured against his lips. He propped himself up, eyes sparkling. “So, you’re an accomplice to murder now. How does that feel?”
“Let me think,” Kit said, dazed by the sheer power of James’s eye contact.
“Take your time.” James descended to bite kisses down Kit’s neck.
Kit tipped his head back, his whole body singing with the new bruises. “Easier than I expected. There’s just one thing.” He stared up at the ceiling, hoping the partition between the driver’s seat and the main car was soundproof. “Why did you trust me?”
James traced the marks he’d left with his lips. He looked contemplative. “I don’t know. Maybe I just really wanted to. Why did you help?”
Because being with James was thrilling. Because James—like Bishop—made Kit feel alive for the first time in years. Because maybe they weren’t that different, James and Kit.
Kit wasn’t ready to open those veins of secrets for James yet. He might never be ready. So, all he said was an echo. “Maybe I just really wanted to.”
