A Matter of Time 07 - Parting Shot (MM) (15 page)

“I don’t recall being asked what I wanted.”

“No, you weren’t, because you’re the first man I’ve ever been in bed with who could make me stop if he wanted to.”

“So what then? My strength is bringing out your bad side?”

“No.” He lowered his voice as he moved under me and slid a hand around the back of my neck. “Lie down.”

I sank over him, my head in the hollow of his throat as I wrapped my arms around him.

He rubbed his chin in my hair and stroked his hand over my bicep. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?”

Only to him.

“I dream about holding you down and making you do whatever I want.”

“Sounds kinky.”

“Normally, yes,” he admitted. “And normally I don’t like to be the only one doing it.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that I really get off on seeing other guys fuck the guys I’m sleeping with.”

“You like to watch,” I husked, kissing his collarbone.

“I do.”

“Okay.”

“It only happened one time before that I didn’t.”

I could guess. “Jory?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not him.”

“No, you’re not,” he agreed. “And that’s good because that didn’t work.”

“Can I ask why not?”

He tangled his hand in my hair and tugged gently, so I tipped my head back to look up into his eyes.

“I wanted to change him. I wanted to own him.”

“And you’re not like that anymore?”

“I am partly,” he said, his voice full of gravel. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to own you.”

I was all aboard the possessive train. “And the changing?”

He was staring into my eyes. “I kind of like you how you are.”

“Yeah?”

“I feel like you would let me show you some things my money can do.”

“Like?”

“Like take you to some of my favorite places in the world.”

“You want to travel with me.”

“Among other things, yes.”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

He bit his lip, and I could tell the answer had excited him. “And as long as I don’t try to buy you everything, you might stick around?”

“I don’t need anything but you in my bed,” I said bluntly.

“What about out of bed?”

“Not sure what I can ask for.”

“What about you? How much of me can your captain see without it becoming a problem for you?”

“I was actually thinking about that.”

“When?”

“When I thought we were gonna be something.”

He tensed in my arms, and I nuzzled into the side of his neck and sucked on the skin there, giving him a zerbert that made him laugh.

“Ohmygod, that was so not hot!”

Sometimes funny was better than sexy. I did it again and then kissed hard.

“Jesus, you just turned me into one giant goose bump!”

He was very huggable, and so I slid higher and drew him close, cuddled him tight, tucked him against my chest.

“Duncan.”

I grunted.

“Can you go out with me?”

“Like, be seen out with you?”

“Yes.”

“For your board or for you?”

“For me, you idiot!”

I laughed softly into his hair.

“Am I thrilled that I don’t have to hide who I am anymore?” It was a rhetorical question he posed. “Oh hell yes, I am. And do I feel like a weight has been lifted off me?”

“I’m guessing yes.”

“Yes!” He was belligerently happy. “Do I wish I could have just had the balls to live my life this whole time? Oh hell, yeah!”

I let him go because he squirmed, and he sat up beside me.

“I’m so pissed that I went from being afraid of my father, afraid of my board, scared of what my brother would think, and concerned over my mother’s disapproval to not caring about any of it.”

“That’s not true. You care.”

He sighed heavily. “My brother thinks I walk on fucking water no matter what, and I should have known that.”

“Yeah, you should have,” I agreed. “I’ve heard how he talks about you.”

He scooted back until he hit the headboard, moved the pillow so he was comfortable. “I was pissed at him today.”

“And I’m sure he thinks you still are.”

“Because I still am.”

“Maybe you should fix that.”

“Perhaps,” he said under his breath.

“Don’t be an ass.”

“I never asked him to step into—”

“He was trying to do a good thing,” I interrupted.

Sharp inhale from him. “You were almost gone. One more hour, one more day… if you had slept with someone else….”

“Or if you did,” I mumbled.

“Why didn’t you?” Aaron wanted to know.

“I was hurt.”

He wasn’t buying it as evidenced by the squint I was getting.

“Fine, I’m a romantic sap.” I shrugged. “I wanted it to be you.”

I wasn’t expecting him to lean down and kiss my forehead.

“Get off me,” I complained.

His laughter was warm.

“So now you have a board that wants to see you with only one person.”

“Yeah,” he said, sliding down beside me. “And so they’re going to see a lot of you.”

“Are they?”

“Oh yes.”

“Your father will have a seizure.”

“I give a fuck.”

“Tell me about your mother.”

“She lives in Paris.”

“That’s cool.”

“She’s been there since I was six. She went back to live with her family after my parents got their divorce.”

“You never visited her or anything?”

“I did, but it’s not like you think. You’re going from nanny to nanny, not from parent to parent.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“So,” I broached the subject. “You were worried what your Mom would think if she found out that you were gay too?”

“She’s very conservative; I know what she’ll think.”

“But it won’t bother you anymore?”

“Honestly, I needed her stocks, her shares, but nothing else. We’ve never been close. We do the Christmas gift exchange, but she plants a tree somewhere for me, and I have my assistant send her something from Cartier or whatever.”

“You have an assistant?”

“I have ten.”

“Huh.”

“But my personal assistant is Margo Dayton. She’ll be the only person you’ll liaison with.”

“That sounds dirty.”

He shook his head. “Peasant.”

I scoffed. “Hey, look at me.”

His bright blue eyes locked on mine.

“I’m sorry about your folks. Really.”

He was trying to figure something out.

“What?”

“You have sealed juvenile records, Detective.”

“I do.” I nodded. “You bump up against that wall when you were doing your background check on me?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Do you think you would ever trust me enough to tell me about that?”

I didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes.”

He was very pleased; it was all over his face.

“No secrets between us.”

“No.” He was adamant. “Nothing.”

“Okay,” I said playfully. “Can I take you to eat?”

He whined and it was adorable.

“Are you by any chance hungry, Mr. Sutter?”

He flopped over. “Ohmygod, I’m fucking starving.”

“Would you like me to feed you, since it’s already a little after nine?”

“Please, kind sir. I’ll blow you for food.”

“I think I can get you to do it without payment,” I taunted.

“Ass!”

Yes, I was.

H
IS
driver’s name was Miguel Romero, and he had apparently worked for Aaron a long time. The only reason I hadn’t met him before was he’d been on vacation when Jory set me and Miguel’s boss up on our blind date. He had a month off every year, because otherwise, even when Aaron traveled, Miguel was the one there, driving him. He was pleased to meet me but also surprised, which I kind of liked. Apparently Aaron had a normal type I did not fit at all, and that I was different, was a source of interest.

I wasn’t stupid. I got that beautiful, small men were his usual fare. I’d met Jory Harcourt, Sam Kage’s partner, on a number of occasions. He was five nine, slender, fragile, and the kind of beautiful that you stopped on the street to watch walk by. How Sam had swung that, I had no clue. He had muscles and height going for him, but not much else. There was no way Jory had traded up when he picked Sam over Aaron Sutter. It amazed me that after having a Jory, or some of the others, that Aaron would have ever looked twice at a guy like me.

“What are you thinking?”

I rolled my head on the seat and my eyes slid over him. “Just trying to figure out what you see in me.”

“What?”

“No, not like ‘poor me, I’m so repulsive, what the fuck were you thinking’,” I snickered. “But more like, I am so not your type. You like cute little twink boys.”

He reached for my hand and I let him take it.

“You don’t hafta tell me.”

He lifted my hand and put it on his thigh. “It’s just you. I saw you, and I can’t see anybody else anymore.”

“That’s kind of romantic.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe it’s ’cause of Jory,” I offered. “He introduced us, after all.”

“He’s not magic, I assure you.”

“He seems nice.”

“Yeah, he is. But it’s funny: now that I’m not looking at him through rose-colored glasses anymore, I have to tell you that he would try the patience of a saint. It’s a wonder that neither Sam nor his brother has thrown him off something high.”

“He didn’t strike me as particularly annoying.”

Aaron’s glare was funny.

“Okay, I take it back.”

He rolled my hand over and examined it.

“What are you doing?”

“You have a scar on your palm.”

“Junkie put a knife through it.”

His eyes flicked to my face.

“What?”

“You’re covered in scars.”

“I know.” I shrugged, glancing away. “Not hot.”

“Duncan.”

The streetlights outside had all my attention.

“Look at me.”

I followed his direction after a moment.

“I get the feeling you’ve been in bed with some men who did not find the scars sexy.”

“Not bed. Only two men have ever been in my bed, but yeah, guys fuck me because I’m scary lookin’, all broken and marked up.”

“They’re idiots,” he said frankly. “I want to know the story of each and every one, and yes, I promise you, they make my dick hard just looking at them.”

I was surprised.

“Am I being clear?”

“Yes. Very.”

“I just want to lie on top of you and feel your bare skin under mine. I could do it for hours if you let me.”

He got a kiss for that, and the way he opened for me, melted against me, I was very tempted to pull him into my lap and forget about food. My stomach had other ideas, though, because the growl was loud and long, like I was possessed. It was not sexy to have the man you were kissing collapse in a heap of raucous laughter. Apparently, I was very amusing and would be kept around purely for entertainment purposes.

At the restaurant he chose in River North, we were walked in through the back and brought upstairs to the second floor that overlooked the street. The lights of the city were beautiful, and the spring rain had washed everything clean.

“Pretty,” I remarked.

“Gorgeous.”

It was not lost on me that the only thing he could see was me. “Kind of cheesy, wasn’t that?”

“Yeah. I don’t care,” he said, sliding a small key ring with a couple of fobs on it across the table.

“What is this?”

“The gray one opens the gate that surrounds my home in Winnetka. The black one will get you on the elevator of Sutter plaza in Streeterville. Above the offices, at the very top, is the penthouse. That fob will get you there.”

My eyes flicked to his. “That’s fast.”

“No. You’re not moving in. That would be fast. I’m giving you access to my homes because my work and yours are not going to just magically align,” he explained, reaching over to take my hand. “So if you can, or I can, even if it’s late, we could see each other.”

“I like the sound of that,” I said, squeezing his hand before he pulled it back. “So I’ll make you a key for the outer door and my loft.”

“I would like that.”

“Okay.”

The chef himself came out to talk to Aaron at our private table. A partition had been put up so no one could see us, and with Miguel there, no one was getting anywhere close to try and take a peek. I had no clue what anything was since they were speaking Italian, so it was nice that Aaron translated for me.

“What sounds good?” he offered.

“I don’t care. Just don’t make me eat brains or, like, veal or lamb or something.” I shrugged. “I’m easy.”

The grin made his dimples pop.

“Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“I can’t help it.”

The red wine was heavy and thick, and I liked it a lot. The appetizers he ordered were good. I loved bruschetta, and the other—dates filled with goat cheese and wrapped in prosciutto—was amazing.

“I’ve never eaten a date before,” I told him. “I thought people only ate them in the movies. Ya know, like
Indiana Jones
?”

“I see that I’ll be broadening your horizons in all kinds of interesting ways, Detective.”

“Why does everything that comes out of your mouth sound filthy?”