“He needed someone to talk to after he got shot last year. That’s all.” Six months for me to recover from a badly broken leg while on duty protecting a criminal defence lawyer, Sebastian Devlin, from a deranged killer. Henry Campbell, a homicide detective assigned to protection duty at the same time—thanks to a mutual connection who happens to be Henry’s boss—had taken a bullet to the side of the head during a scuffle when both the lawyer and Spencer were taken. Scars heal faster than mental wounds. Some never heal.
“‘After’ is like a week later. Maybe even a month if I’m being generous. You see him atleastonce a month. Usually more. At least twice.”
It’s barely once a month. He’s using exaggeration just to drive the knife further into himself. “I don’t say a fucking word when you have your ‘playdates’ with the lawyer.”
“It’s not the same thing at all.”
It’s exactly the same thing. “I’ll stop seeing mine if you stop seeing yours,” I counter. The only one that Spencer should be leaning on isme, or our team. Not some random lawyer he hadthe bad fortune to get kidnapped with. He’s mine to protect, to comfort.
“Done.”
For fuck’s sake. “The kid is zero threat to you.” Less than zero. I haven’t looked at another person since I met Spencer even before we started whatever the fuck this is. He’s been my only from the very first moment his stupid blond hair came into my view. He hit me like lightning, and I’ve stayed electrified ever since. I can’t have anything close to what I want from him, and I’ll take whatever I can get. It’s not enough andeverythingat the same time.
“Don’t call him a kid. He’s asingleadult male, unlike the ‘lawyer,’ who hasfourboyfriends. Henry happens to be gay, also, which you never told me, and there’s only one reason why you would hide that.”
I can think of more than one. “I didn’t even know he’s gay.” Does he think we sit around and paint each other’s nails or something? We don’t get that personal. “How doyouknow he is?”
Spencer glances at me, anger still firmly sparkling in his gorgeous brown gaze. Did he even sleep last night, or did he stay up all night pacing? He should have come to me, and I would have fixed it.
“He dated some other kid back in high school for three years in his little Podunk town.”
It should surprise me that he went to the effort to look Henry and his history up, but it doesn’t. It’s not even the worst thing Spencer has done. Instead of irritating me, it only makes a deep satisfaction roar through me. I fucking love it every time he gets like this. Growly, possessive,mine. He may not want to sleep with me, but that doesn’t mean every part of him doesn’t belong to me. No one else gets to have any of him.
A glance at the next street sign tells me we’re not far from our destination, and we don’t have time to properly get through all the things bothering him right now. “Can we talk about this after?”
“Fine.”
“Fine.” Indulging his petulance right now will mean we’ll be even later than we already are. If it were anyone else waiting for us, I may not have given a fuck.
I flick the stereo on, and Spencer stays silent for the rest of the trip. As if I can’t see how tight his jaw is, or the way he’s glaring at everything, or the grip he has on the steering wheel. Not even rubbing his knee is making it better.
Fuck that. He doesn’t get to retreat from me like this. Dragging the glove off my hand, I get us skin to skin. His knee’s warm under my palm, and I squeeze, massaging. He glances at me, some of the anger diluting. If he wasn’t driving, I’d drag him into my arms. Touch grounds him in a way nothing else does.
Once we park right behind Hunter’s car, I grasp Spencer’s nape and force him to look at me properly. “It’s just you, Spence. It’s always only ever you.” He owns me. I’ll go to my grave needing him. No one will ever come close to what he makes me feel, and nothing will ever change that.
He searches my eyes, expression hard and unforgiving, and then he leans forward. I know what he’s going to do, and I won’t stop him. I didn’t the first time, and I can’t now. His lips touch mine, his head tilting to lock us together like a puzzle. His breath caresses my cheek, and his hand rests against my throat. There’s nothing sexual in it, but it’s still an ownership that kills me as much as it gives me life.
I don’t know what his tongue feels like against mine, what he tastes like inside, and the ache at missing out on those parts of him are a constant companion. It doesn’t matter.
I’ll never let go, and neither will he.
Chapter two
Spencer
The house Hunter sentus to is a plain brick-and-black plaster condo-style building. Comfortable enough for a couple or a small family. Sparse front yard, with no flower beds or shrubbery for easy maintenance. A light-blue middle-range car sat in the driveway.
I’m curious to know what we’re doing here. Home visits aren’t generally our style.
“What do you think?” I ask Kendrick, giving him a sideways glance from where I’m leaning against the passenger door. He looks so put together for this time of the morning, it makes my fingers itch to touch him and muss him up a bit. The sleek black suit, perfectly pressed, with the middle button of his jacket done up, looks fantastic, but he looks better when I’ve had my hands all over him. Despite the warmth of the car, the tip of his nose still has a tinge of red to it from the cold. He put the gloves back on before he got out and has one shoved in his pocket. And thosecurls. I want to roll in their softness, get tangled in them so that he can’t get away from me.
“I think speculation is pointless,” Kendrick replies. “Hunter’s inside; we can ask him directly.” He pauses.
“What are you looking at?” Kendrick asks, narrowing his eyes.
“You.”
Anger still simmers under the surface, and the urge to find the “kid” that Kendrick keeps spending time with hasn’t disappeared. Not for months. I should feel nothing but gratitude for what he did to keep Kendrick safe, and maybe that’s there. But if Henry thinks that means he has a right to any piece of him, he’s dead fucking wrong.
