GirlMostLikelyTo (3 page)

“Jennifer?” Their mother pounced like a lioness. “Is she
new? What does she do? Where did you meet her?”

Wren relaxed. Now her mother had something to sink her teeth
into, she was safe. Although Matt would kill her later. She looked round the
table at her family and smiled. She was so lucky. Her parents treated her as if
she was no different to their sons, but she
was
different. They’d
fostered her when she was a thirteen-year-old ball of fury and made her
their
little ball of fury. Wren’s childhood up to that point had been…difficult, but
after the Ellises had taken her in, she felt as if she’d gone to heaven without
dying, though it had taken her a few months to accept that love and kindness could
come without strings.

The twins had won her round. They stood up for her when no
one else ever had and changed her life. The only disappointment for them all
was that they hadn’t been able to adopt her as an Ellis. Her birth mother
wouldn’t allow her name to be changed and Wren Monroe she’d stayed. By the time
she’d been old enough to do something about it herself, it hadn’t seemed to
matter anymore.

Wren gazed at her plate and winced. Matt had managed to slip
a brussels sprout on there without her seeing. Even one made her heave.

* * * * *

Tomas pulled up in the driveway of Marco’s opulent detached
house, exited and slammed the car door harder than he should have. It was one
step forward, two steps back with Marco. Just when Tomas thought the guy was warming
to him, the bastard stuck him with some menial task like shopping for toilet
rolls. Tomas wasn’t sure if Marco didn’t trust him, or liked to show him
exactly where he stood in the pecking order, or just wanted beer, salted nuts,
loo rolls and the rest of what was on this damn list, and his had been the
first face Marco saw.

He hauled the bags from the back of the car, carried them to
the front door and rang the bell.

Veton opened it.

“
Si jeni?
”
How are you
, Tomas had asked in
Albanian.

“
Mire.
”

He was fine. That was a pity. Tomas lived in hope Veton
would develop some debilitating disease or get knocked down by a bus or just
conveniently drop dead.

“Bring the bags in. Marco wants to see you.”

Tomas carried the shopping into the kitchen and found Marco at
the table with a young brunette he didn’t recognize sitting on his lap. All she
appeared to be wearing was one of Marco’s white shirts with not many buttons
fastened. Marco had his hand beneath the material, squeezing her breast.

“Put the food away,” Marco said.

Yes, master.
Tomas set the bags on the counter and
emptied them into cupboards and the fridge.

“I’ve a job for you.”

He turned in case Marco was talking to him. Yep, he was.
What was it going to be this time? Wash the cars? Walk the dog?

“I want you to learn English.”

His heart skipped a beat. “I can speak English.”

“Not perfectly. Anyway, you can pretend to not speak it
well. I need someone to check out Ezispeke Language Academy.”

“Check it out for what?” Tomas asked.

“Once you’re registered and attending, I’ll tell you.”

He shrugged and hid his annoyance at Marco’s habit of
working on a need-to-know basis. The shirt had fallen off the woman’s shoulders
to expose one breast and Marco twisted her nipple. The woman winced and Tomas
chewed the inside of his cheeks.

“A new term starts tomorrow.” Marco nodded at Veton, who
threw a bundle of twenty pound notes onto the table. “Pay whatever you need to
get a place at the school. Don’t ask for a receipt, but I want to know if they
offer one. Bring me it if they do. Sign up for different classes, get to know
the staff and pupils.”

“Okay.”

“You can go now, unless you want to join us for a sandwich.”

Veton unfastened his pants, the woman giggled and Tomas
forced himself to smile before he walked out.

He tossed the cash into the glove box of his BMW, wiped his
palms on his pants and drove back to his apartment in Leeds city center. The
farther he was from Marco, the better he felt. Unfortunately, he needed to be
in the guy’s pocket.

Tomas parked in his spot under a covered area at the back of
the building, alongside a silver Mercedes he’d never seen before. Maybe someone
had taken the apartment next to his. He gathered the bags of groceries he’d
bought for himself and dropped in the bundle of cash.

The moment he opened the outer door, the fire alarm started
to shriek and he hesitated.

The sensible part of him said, “Walk back out and wait to
see what’s going on.” The less sensible part said, “It’s probably some idiot
burning toast and the alarm will stop in a minute.” He let the door swing shut
behind him and carried on down the corridor. The only concession he made was to
use the stairs to the third floor and not the elevator.

As he opened the fire door onto his corridor, he saw a tall,
dark-haired guy standing with his back toward him, wafting a towel over the
shrieking alarm. All he wore were pale chinos, no socks or shoes. Tomas took in
the broad shoulders, slim hips and tight butt, and a surge of lust ripped
through him. He immediately nipped it at the neck and brought it down.
Not a
good idea.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Tomas just caught the words above the wailing alarm. He put
his bags by his door and stepped to the guy’s side. “That’s not—”

As the stranger jerked round, the words log-jammed in Tomas’
throat and goose bumps erupted on his arms. So much for controlling himself.
Oh
fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m not doing this, not going there, not what I want.
“That not going to help. Once detector go off, it trigger rest. You need call
concierge.”

“Do you know his number?”

“Too late.” Tomas nodded toward Bill who puffed down the
corridor, a glare on his reddened face.

“I’m so sorry. It was—”

“Is there a fire?” Bill snapped.

“No, I threw what was left of the toast out of the window.”

Tomas coughed to hide his snigger.

Bill entered numbers into a keypad and silenced the alarm
before he set off back the way he’d come, grumbling under his breath.

“Shit. How to make a good first impression.” The half-naked
guy turned back to Tomas.

Tomas couldn’t have been more impressed. He let his gaze
wander over a tanned and toned upper body, perfectly rounded pecs topped by
tight dark nipples, and abs almost as chiseled as his own. The chinos were
unbuttoned at the waist and wisps of dark hair led—
Oh damn
. When he
dragged his attention higher, he was staring straight at him. He had to have
seen where he’d been looking.
Fuck.

“Adam.” He held out his hand. “Otherwise known as the guy
most likely to set fire to a whole city because he left the oven on.”

“Tomas. Guy most likely to be around to put out fire.”

The handshake was firm and lasted a fraction too long.

“What accent is that?”

“Croatian. You move in?”

“Only for three weeks.”

Christ.
That made him harder to resist. No messy
entanglements, just quick, pleasurable fucks, assuming Adam was gay or bi.
Tomas was tempted whichever way the guy leaned. He might even try to corrupt a
het. His mouth curved in a grin at the thought.

“What happen with toast?” he asked because he wasn’t ready
to let this guy walk away.

“I forgot I’d put the bread in and started to get undressed
for a shower. Next thing I know, flames are coming out of the toaster and the
alarm’s screaming. I unplugged the toaster and poked the bread into the sink,
but the slices were still burning and I worried they’d leave a mark so I used a
couple of forks to throw them into the river. I’ll have to replace the forks.
They went in too. I nearly tossed the toaster in as well.”

He grinned and Tomas laughed.

“The alarm in the kitchen was still wailing so I took out
the battery, opened the door of the apartment to clear the air and set off this
alarm.” Adam paled. “Shit. The beans.”

He raced back into his apartment and Tomas heard a series of
curse words. The open door proved an irresistible lure.

“You okay?” he called and followed Adam inside.

The guy stood by the sink, his hand under cold water. The
distinct smell of burning food filled the air. Was he forgetful, a klutz or
both?

“Burned my fingers. Damn, I’m going to have to buy a
replacement pan too.”

Tomas winced when he spotted the blackened mess in the
saucepan. The air was still hazy with smoke. He scanned the kitchen taking in
the yellow Post-its stuck everywhere. The one on the microwave said, “Don’t use
this to dry your shoes.”

“You dry shoes in microwave?” Tomas gaped at him.

Adam flushed. “They were wet and I needed them to dry fast.
I didn’t think they’d catch fire. One thing I’m good at is learning from my
mistakes.” He paused. “Mostly.” He glanced at the stove. “Maybe I’d better
stick to a boiled egg.” Then he frowned. “Can you burn a boiled egg? No, don’t
answer that. I suspect I’m the only person in the world who could.” He pulled
his hand from the water. “That’s better.” He grimaced. “Ah, no it’s not.” He
stuck it back under the flow.

Want him, want him, want him.
“Keep it there,” Tomas
said. “I cook you something. I live next door. Number 17. Come in ten minutes.”

“Great. I’m not going to refuse that offer.”

Tomas swallowed hard as he walked away. Would Adam refuse
what else he was thinking about offering?

On the back of Adam’s front door were four more Post-its.
“Do you have your wallet?”

“Your phone?”

“Your shoes on?”

“YOUR KEYS?”

He shook his head, almost regretting his invite. What was
wrong with this guy? He picked up his bags from outside his door, kicking
himself when he saw the bundle of money sitting on top.
Christ.
If he’d
lost that…

Chapter Three

When Tomas saw the state of his apartment, he groaned. He
scooped up stray items of clothing and pushed them in the laundry bin,
collected dirty mugs and plates and filled the dishwasher, threw the trash into
the bucket under the sink and dragged the duvet back over the bed. He’d only
washed the sheets a couple of days—
oh Christ
.

He might be telling himself not to get overexcited but the
advice didn’t leave his brain. His heart raced, his palms were damp with sweat
while his cock grew harder by the second. Not wanting to appear too eager, he
pulled his shirt out of his pants so it hung loose. He was in the middle of
putting his groceries away, stowing the bundle of notes in the freezer behind
the coffee, when the knock came at the door.

Adam stood holding a six-pack in one hand and a bottle of
wine in the other. His shirt also hung over his pants and Tomas bit his lip.
Didn’t necessarily mean anything.

“Wasn’t sure if you were offering beef Wellington or cheese
sandwiches.” Adam held up the drinks.

“Beans on toast.”

Adam smiled and Tomas’ cock swelled against his zipper. He
couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this about anyone, male or
female. Not just aroused but pathetically excited. He’d thought it was because
he hadn’t
let
himself get interested, that he wasn’t into men anymore,
that he was too professional to allow his private and public sides to collide,
but now he knew different. He’d not been sufficiently tempted before. But hell,
why did he have to meet this guy now when he was knee-deep in shit? It had to
be the worst timing ever.

“Come in.” Tomas kicked the door closed and went back to the
kitchen. He grabbed two tins of baked beans from the cupboard and a saucepan.
“What business you in?”

“I…er—information technology. How about you?”

Why the hesitation? “I work for guy who has many
businesses.” Few of which were legal. “I’m personal assistant. Do whatever he
needs.” Within reason and not with any pleasure. He gestured to Adam’s feet.
“You remember shoes. You have wallet, keys and phone?”

Mr. Temptation sucked in his cheeks and sighed. “Yeah,
that’s Ally’s doing. She put notes on everything, including the taps, and I
still got those wrong.”

Ally?
Tomas swallowed his disappointment and popped
four slices of bread into the toaster. What sort of fool was he to assume Adam
was interested in guys? Tempt a het?
I’m an idiot.
All his bravado
slithered into a black hole.

“I don’t know what I’d do without Ally,” Adam said.

“Oh yeah?” he forced out.

“She bought enough food to last me for a week and left
instructions but I still cocked it up.”

Of course an angelic-looking guy would have an angelic
girlfriend. “Think you manage to get plates from there without breaking?” Tomas
nodded toward a wall cupboard. He wanted to strangle this goddess already.

Two cupboard doors opened and closed behind him before Adam
put the plates on the counter.

“She looked so gorgeous yesterday,” Adam said.

Tomas yanked the tab off a can of beer and pushed another
toward Adam.
So you’re taken. Fine. I get it. Shut up now.

“She’s on her way to South America.”

Or maybe not.
Tomas stared straight at him. “Why you
not go?”

Adam’s lips curved in a smile and there was something in his
eyes that made Tomas think he was yanking his chain.

“Because I don’t think I’d be welcome. She’s on her
honeymoon.”

Tomas grinned as he stirred the beans. The bastard
was
teasing him. The toast popped up and he reached for the margarine.

“I was at wedding yesterday too,” he said.

Adam handed him a knife. “With your girlfriend?”

His expression held nothing but inquiry, but the question
had been pointed.

“No girlfriend.” Tomas poured beans on the toast and gave a
plate to Adam.

They sat at the table in front of the double doors that led
to the balcony, and despite his cock strenuously disagreeing, Tomas began to
backtrack. Lunch meant being neighborly, but forget the rest. The rest made for
a bad idea and was too risky. He didn’t want to drag anyone else into danger.

But he watched Adam eat and his resolve to
not touch
went down the pan. Three weeks was nothing. It would go by in a flash and yet
it could be everything. Three weeks and Adam would be gone. Tomas had to keep
his secrets, but they could still fuck. The guy lived next door. How convenient
was that? The nights when Tomas wasn’t working, he’d have something worth
coming home for.
Three weeks.
Didn’t he deserve a break? He really
wanted to take Adam to bed. His cock nodded in furious agreement and his balls
tingled their approval.

“Where you live?” Tomas asked.

“In London. Greenwich.”

That was good. At least a four-hour drive from Leeds.
He
must be up here on business. Maybe he’ll come again.

“I travel a lot,” Adam said. “I don’t spend much time at
home. How long have you been in England?”

All my life.
“Few years.”

“Long enough to acquire a taste for beans on toast. That was
great.” Adam put his knife and fork neatly on the empty plate. “What’s for
dessert?”

Adam wanted to pick up his knife and cut out his tongue.
What’s
for dessert?
What the fuck had he been thinking? Well, he’d been thinking
of what he usually said to Ally after they’d eaten dinner, because she always
produced some little treat or other, knowing his sweet tooth. But now Tomas was
staring at him as if…
oh God
.

“What you like?” Tomas smiled.

For someone decisive in his business life, Adam’s mind went
painfully blank. He sensed something going on between them, hints had been
dropped, glances exchanged, hands gripped slightly longer than necessary, but
he wasn’t
sure
. Adam never acted on impulse when he dealt with people.
Usually. He checked once, checked twice and then checked again. He’d never done
this before. Well, he’d done
that
, he’d just never immediately followed
through on a surge of lust. But when he looked into the midnight-blue eyes of
the Croatian, took in his hard, chiseled jaw and the curve in his lips, the
wave of lust grew into a tsunami.

Tomas still stared expectantly.

He’s waiting for an answer, you moron.
“Ice cream?”
Adam blurted.
Wimp.

Tomas pushed to his feet and walked over to the kitchen.

Oh shit.
Adam knew he needed to get up too, thank the
guy for the food and go back to his apartment and wank—no, watch TV. But that
tight, muscular butt under those denims, the broad back, dark silky hair, the
whole bloody package was beyond tempting. Yet how could he know for certain?
Who was supposed to make the first move? Did Tomas top or bottom? Both?
Neither? Like anything kinky? Like women as well? Questions circled in Adam’s
head until he felt sick.

The microwave pinged and Tomas came back to the table with a
tub of pecan-and-caramel ice cream and two spoons.

“You can microwave ice cream?” Adam asked in surprise.

“For few seconds. Was too hard. Freezer transform everything
to rock.” Tomas dipped his spoon into the top and scooped up a lump with a
pecan. “Try.”

He held the spoon out, stared straight at him, and Adam was
instantly, definitely, happily sure. He wrapped his mouth around the spoon and
clamped down. When Tomas tried to pull back, Adam didn’t let the spoon go for a
long moment. Once he had, he chewed and swallowed, the cold, sweet ice cream
slipping down his lust-thickened throat.

“More?” Tomas said huskily.

Everything this guy said was suggestive.
Or is it just me
taking it that way?
“I’d love some more,” he croaked.

“Let’s sit on couch.”

He watched as Tomas rose languidly to his feet and then he
followed, his gaze pinned to the guy’s butt. They sat and Tomas put the
container on the coffee table. He scooped out another spoonful but instead of
offering it to Adam, he sucked off the ice cream, dropped the spoon and grabbed
the back of Adam’s neck to pull his head forward. Their lips crashed together
and his mouth opened as Tomas’ tongue shoved forward.
OhGodohGodohGod.
Cold ice cream, warm mouth, sweetness spreading as the ice cream melted.
Already hard, Adam’s cock turned to granite while his heart battered his ribs.

Tomas cupped his neck as their tongues thrust and tangled.
His head fogged and his senses reeled as ice cream, the faint tang of beer, the
taste of Tomas—all mingled together like some magical aphrodisiac. Adam slid
his arms around the guy’s back, muscles flexing under his palms. His control
slipped as desire swept him into deeper and deeper water, dragging him out to
sea. The need to come overpowered everything else.

His befuddled brain eventually took in that Tomas was
nudging him backward and they lay on the couch, their lips still joined. Adam
didn’t want this kiss to end. He groaned into Tomas’ mouth as the guy pinned
him down, their legs entwined, their lean bodies molded together perfectly. As
much as Adam loved the feel of a woman’s body, there was something about a
guy’s hardness, roughness and strength that inflamed him.

He groaned as Tomas fiercely tongue-fucked his mouth in time
with the rocking of his hips, as he pressed the rigid length of his cock into
Adam’s thigh. Then the kiss gentled and the guy nibbled at his lips, brushing
his tongue back and forth over them as he panted. Adam could count on the
fingers of one hand the number of men he’d locked lips with and none of them
had come close to the wonder of this. Whether he was brain-fogged by lust or
not, the kiss electrified him.

He started when Tomas suddenly grabbed his wrists, yanked
them over his head and held them there.

And Adam let him.
Christ.
When had he ever allowed
anyone to take the lead? He was
always
the one in charge, making the
play, giving orders.

When Tomas’ lips slid from Adam’s mouth to his neck, and his
exhales warmed his skin, Adam gulped air into starved lungs. The hold tightened
around his wrists as Tomas edged his knee between his legs, forcing them open.
Then their cocks rubbed directly against each other, friction from the layers
of material adding to the torment. Drops of frustrated pre-cum wet Adam’s
boxers while the ache in his balls intensified, heading toward pain.

Tomas pulled back, muttered, “Fuck,” and then kissed him
again.

Adam hadn’t the breath for a single word, but fuck just
about covered it.

Their bodies continued to grind together, Adam’s hips
matching the rhythm of Tomas’ shunts as they rutted. He nipped Adam’s
collarbone and the telltale tremors of orgasm flickered in his head.
Oh
Christ, I am
not
going to come in my pants.
Not unless Tomas did
too.

Then Tomas gave a strangled moan, tensed and lifted his
head.
What’s wrong?
As Adam tried to pull him close again, Tomas shifted
so their cocks no longer connected and averted his face.
What the hell’s
happening?
Before the first syllable of a question left Adam’s mouth, as
suddenly as Tomas had kissed him the man flung himself off the couch. He
stumbled to his feet and lurched across the room to lean against the kitchen
counter, his back to Adam, shoulders shaking.

Adam brought his arms down to his sides and sat up. He
waited for Tomas to say something, but all he heard was labored breathing. Adam
opened his mouth and then closed it again. What was the point in speaking?
Whatever was happening here was over. He pushed to his feet and walked out of
the apartment.

He might have said nothing but he thought plenty. Working in
a business where analysis and calculation of risk were essential to ensure
success, he wanted to know what had gone wrong. It had been over a year since
he’d been with a guy, so had he made a mistake? Broken some protocol? Not done
something he should have? He closed the door of his apartment and rested his
back against it. Or should he go with the obvious answer that Tomas had changed
his mind and come to his senses before he’d come to his?

Except he wouldn’t have changed his mind. Once he’d made a
decision he stuck with it. Mostly. He dampened down his surge of anger. Tomas
was entitled to change his mind. Nothing he could do about it. The guy could
have
said
something but maybe he was embarrassed.
Shit.
Now Adam
was going to spend the next three weeks thinking of what might have been.

His cock was still hard as stone and there was a tremor in
his body he needed gone. He walked into the bedroom and stripped off for the
shower he’d not got around to taking, letting his clothes fall on the floor.
Adam stared down at them. Maybe reading the instructions for the washing
machine would dampen his ardor. He picked up Ally’s folder.

A couple of minutes later he set it aside.

No. He was still hard.

He put his clothes in the laundry hamper but suspected he’d
be buying new gear rather than risk experimenting with the machine in the
kitchen. Adam stepped into the shower and let cool water pour over his
shoulders. His cock remained rigid. He upped the heat. No point torturing
himself. He squirted his favorite shower gel into his palm—had Ally thought of
everything?—and wrapped slick fingers around his cock.

At that first touch, he arched back against the wall and
exhaled. He drew his fist up from his balls in a long, slow slide, brushed his
palm over his tingling crest and then slid his hand back to the root of his
cock.

He wished it were Tomas playing with him. He wished the guy
were standing here so Adam could do the same to him. He wished—he sighed and
began to pump, drawing his foreskin over the sensitive head before dragging his
hand down. He stood so the flow of water hit his neck and back, and blinked
droplets from his lashes as he stared at his cock, imagining Tomas on his knees
in front of him, lips wrapped around the tip before he took him deep into his
throat.