The PWP had been a godsend. A place where he could work with other psychics, where he’d done good things for the right reasons. Or so he’d thought. Apparently someone in the organization hadn’t been playing by the rules, because they’d disbanded the program over a year ago.
He’d left with several of the others. Now denied the dosages of gene-altering drugs that had helped strengthen his psychic gift, if he didn’t physically and mentally train every day, his mind turned chaotic and even violent. Nathan already had those tendencies. He had no intention of allowing himself to get too out of control. So he worked out with people who knew the real him.
People like Avery.
A vision of the black-haired giant took over his mind’s eye. Massive arms, a broad chest, thick thighs. Grappling with Avery and dealing with his sharp wit always gave him a hard-on. Avery was such a fucking man. With a groan, Nathan took his cock in hand and stroked. Envisioning Avery’s deep, dark blue eyes, that short black hair, and his square jaw, Nathan stroked faster. Avery had lips made for sucking cock. With a fuller lower lip and a wide mouth that didn’t often curl in amusement, Avery was sheer perfection wasted on a straight man. Nathan had a tough time not sighing like a lovesick teenager whenever the big man smiled.
But in Nathan’s fantasies, Avery begged to touch, to suck, to feel. Avery would want to kneel, open his mouth, and swallow Nathan’s cock. He’d rim Nathan’s ass, lick and fondle his balls, and jerk Nathan off. Then he’d bend Nathan over and take him without restraint.
Nathan panted as his climax neared. In another scenario, he imagined Avery bending over, allowing Nathan to fuck him hard. No condom, no protection, just Nathan buried to the hilt up that fine, muscular ass…
“Oh fuck,” he whispered and shot over the tile of the stall.
The water erased the evidence of his need, if not the need itself. Now freed from the frustration riding him hard, Nathan finished his shower and turned off the water. He dried off and left the bathroom wrapped in a towel. In the morning light, he glanced at Avery, now asleep and on his back, the sheets bunched around his waist.
A dusting of black hair covered his brawny chest. The flat copper of his nipples made Nathan’s mouth water. But they needed some rings, clamps, or better yet, Nathan’s mouth.
To his irritation, he started to get hard again.
Hell, no. Avery Holton, you are nothing but Mr. Wrong. Though his partner certainly could be counted on when it came to the job, such close proximity played hell with Nathan’s libido. He had an insane urge to rip away Avery’s covers. He thought of sucking Avery’s nipples, those tempting buds now erect due to the frigid air in the room. But knowing his unflappable partner, Avery would wake up calm. The control freak wouldn’t let annoyance show on his face, but he’d clench his fists tight and lock his jaw, the way he did every time Nathan bothered him.
Sucking his nipples will do more than annoy him. The thought of Avery’s horrified, stunned reaction surprised a chuckle out of his mouth. His mood oddly lightened, Nathan crawled into his bed to catch a few hours of sleep. Now that his drunk had worn off, his brain refused to function past the need to close his eyes.
He woke to dirty clothes hitting him in the face.
“Rise and shine, twinkle toes.”
Nathan shoved his beer-smelling clothes to the floor and cracked his jaw on a yawn. “I really hate it when you try to be cute.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m not the fucking maid. Clean up after yourself.”
“Um, we’re in a hotel. They actually hire maids to clean up.”
“Pack up your shit, and let’s go.” Avery glared down at him from an impressive height.
Nathan knew the man had an inch on him, putting him close to if not over six-four. God knew, Avery didn’t need another edge over Nathan. Mr. Cool and Collected could rarely be beaten in the gym. The major had huge muscles and the wherewithal to use them. Even Nathan, for all his prowess in martial training, had rarely beaten Avery in hand-to-hand combat.
“Today, princess.” Avery sighed. “Checkout is in a half hour. You were supposed to wake me up at ten.”
The clock read eleven thirty. “Sue me.” Nathan sat up and stretched.
Avery turned away and hauled his duffel bag over his shoulder. Already packed and ready to go. Typical. “I’ll meet you at the car. Now get it in gear. We have a meet-and-greet with our realtor in another hour.”
Nathan groaned. “I still don’t like this. It’s stupid. Malcolm will see through us in a heartbeat. Just because you had a vision of him in that stupid town is no reason to think he’ll find us now.”
“I saw snow on the ground in my vision, like the white stuff there today.”
“There’s snow in Bloomville eight months out of the year,” Nathan said drily. He knew. He’d spent three long years there. Just outside of Erie, Pennsylvania, Bloomville had harsh winters, short summers, and a small population. “You know this cover is stupid. There’s no way we won’t be noticed right away.”
“But that’s the point. We’ll be noticed. Business partners sharing a house in Bloomville while we make renovations on the Dixon house. What could be better?”
It was on the tip of Nathan’s tongue to ask why Avery hadn’t considered them posing as lovers instead of business associates, but he didn’t want to push the bully. Not until he’d had a cup of coffee at least. “It’s the Dixon House Inn now. Oh man, I friggin’ hate Bloomville.” Nathan had never been so glad to see the end of that house in his life. And now he was going back to it…and all the memories stored there.
“Suck it up, and quit whining. I’ll be waiting.” Avery left without another word.
“Asshole.” Nathan got up, brushed his teeth, and dressed. Then he threw his belongings in his bag and carried it over his shoulder and out the door with five minutes to spare. He met Avery at their rental SUV at noon.
Instead of acting like an annoyed SOB, Avery reclined in his seat, his hands behind his head, while he listened to classic rock. At least he had decent taste in music.
Nathan tossed his bag into the back, then joined Avery in the front. “Why is it you’re always driving?” Nathan sat in the passenger seat. Again.
“Because I’m in charge of our little operation.”
“Says who?”
“My seniority. I served twelve years—eleven years in the service and another with the PWP. So that makes me top dog. You did what? A few years with the government? Lightweight.”
Nathan glared at him. “I’ve been with the PWP longer than you have. Three years, Major. So give me the keys.”
Avery snorted and sat up. He adjusted his seat, strapped in, then started the vehicle. “Dream on. You’re probably still a little drunk from last night. You smelled like a brewery.”
Nathan flushed. “Yeah, well, it won’t happen again.”
They pulled out of the parking lot and drove through snow-cleared roads. The weather looked bleak. The gray, cloudy sky promised more snow. No sun in sight.
“Good to know you plan to sober up,” Avery murmured. “’Cause next time I might let them have you.”
Nathan scoffed. “Yeah, right. Your savior complex won’t let you. Mr. Responsible? Not do the right thing? That’ll be the day.” He stared straight ahead, but a glance out the corner of his eye showed Avery’s fingers tighten on the wheel.
He smothered a grin.
“Being responsible is not a curse. It’s a calling.” Avery turned up the radio, and Pink Floyd blared through the speakers. “Remember your cover. You blow this, I’m gonna take it out on your ass, and not in a way you’d like.”