Jono shifted in Patrick’s arms. The mattress dipped a bit as he turned over onto his other side. His black hair was sleep-messy and falling into his eyes. Patrick pushed it off his forehead with gentle fingers. Jono hooked a hand over Patrick’s hip, thumb rubbing circles against his hip bone. They were both naked, the sheet pushed down to Jono’s waist, putting the expanse of his broad chest on display.
Jono frowned. “He’sbeenafter you.”
“No, I—” Patrick grimaced and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling because it was easier than looking Jono in the eye. “Nicholas said they weren’t trying to kill me.”
“They purposefully crashed a car into yours. Theyshotat you,” Jono said slowly. “How is that not trying to kill you, and why didn’t you tell me this before?”
Patrick winced at the hint of anger in Jono’s voice. “Sorry. I’ve had other things on my mind. I wasn’t trying to hide it from you.”
A warm hand curled over his shoulder, pulling Patrick back onto his side so he was looking at Jono again. “You don’t need to apologize for being stressed, but this isimportant. If Ethan is targeting you for who the bloody fuck knows what this time, that’s something the pack needs to know.”
“I’m telling you now.”
Because they’d long since promised not to lie to each other or hide important information in some misguided attempt to protect each other. Patrick hadn’t meant to keep this from Jono; he just hadn’t found a good time to tell him.
Jono sighed thickly, settling his hand back on Patrick’s hip. “I’ll tell Sage. You should probably tell Setsuna. The government knows you’re a target, but there’s a difference betweenwantingyou and wanting to murder you.”
“You want me.”
“Yes, but there are some days you’re so bloody stubborn I think about murder. It’d be purely out of love though.”
Patrick huffed out a startled laugh, watching the way Jono’s mouth curved into a smile. He trailed his fingers down across Jono’s jaw, the prickle of a beard starting to come in scratching against sensitive skin. Jono blinked at him slowly before closing the scant inches between their mouths to kiss him. Patrick parted his lips, ignoring the taste of morning breath in favor of kissing Jono, because there’d been a time the other week he hadn’t been sure he’d ever get to again.
Jono bit lightly at his bottom lip, the faint sting making Patrick’s cock twitch with interest. “Not going anywhere. Won’t let you go either.”
Patrick couldn’t bring himself to voice the fear thathemight, and so kissed Jono again, because that was better than thinking about everything in his life he couldn’t control. Jono let Patrick set the pace of the kiss—quick and hard, needy in a way Patrick only ever was with him.
Jono responded with just as much want, but the touch of his hands was careful and soothing against Patrick’s body. One slid down his thigh and curled around the back of his knee to hike his leg over Jono’s hip, pulling them flush together. Their cocks slid against each other, and the dry friction drew a groan from Patrick.
“Gonna make a mess of you,” Jono promised.
Patrick hummed agreement, in no way capable of arguing against that. Jono had fucked him every single day since he’d been released from prison. Patrick couldn’t smell the scent of Jono on his own skin, but he didn’t care. It was a mark that he was pack, and he’d never say no to that or to Jono.
They both had a day packed with meetings, but in the soft morning light of their bedroom, their responsibilities faded away in favor of slow kisses, shared breath, and the warm slide of Jono’s slick fingers jacking them both off together. It was easy and warm and gentle, Jono in no hurry even when Patrick pressed biting kisses against his collarbone.
“Please,” Patrick gasped out, rolling his hip into Jono’s grip, toes curling at the heat spreading through his belly.
Jono dragged his thumb across the swollen tip of Patrick’s cock, licking his way back into Patrick’s mouth without bothering to speak. He didn’t need to, not when his touch said everything and more.
When Patrick came, it was with Jono’s name on his lips, body arching into a touch he’d always crave, feeling anchored in place for the first time in weeks. Jono rolled him over onto his back, grinding their hips together until he came with his teeth pressed against the edge of scar tissue stretching over the jut of Patrick’s collarbone.
The sticky, warm mess smeared between them meant they’d need to shower soon, but Patrick was content to stay where he was, pressed down into the bed by Jono’s weight, breathing in a sense of safety he didn’t want to give up.
It was long minutes later when Patrick finally found the wherewithal to speak. “I have a meeting I need to get to.”
Jono nuzzled his throat, licking at the sweat there. Patrick shivered at the touch. “I’ll make you breakfast.”
“Shower first.”
“All right. Five more minutes though.”
Eventually, they rolled out of bed and cleaned up, with Patrick dressing in jeans, T-shirt, and his combat boots. After Monday’s attack, he’d sworn off suits unless he had to appear in court.
Jono was at the stove frying up some bacon, and Patrick was tapping his fingers impatiently as he waited for the coffee to finish brewing when his phone rang. Pulling it out of his pocket, he answered because it was Sage.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Turn on the news. Your grandmother is finally giving a statement,” she said flatly.
