OVERTIME (7 page)

She popped another bubble right in Colton’s face. “Well, no, I don’t exactly think I’m an expert…yet. I am, however, rapidly working toward my gay-man degree, which will clearly make me this expert you refer to.” She crossed her arms, mimicking Colton’s pose. “For instance, from my studies of you two
hotties
over the past thirty minutes, I’ve determined that you are all hot and bothered for your pretty date. You are totally blown away by his innocence, inexperience and bashfulness. His shy smile drives you crazy in ways that are totally inappropriate out in public—when twelve year old children are around. You watch every move he makes—your eyes hungrily following each and every detail, like you’re trying to memorize everything about him. Oh, and you never, ever shut the fuck up. I’m telling you,
kid
, you’re trying too hard. You’re going to scare him away with all your creepy attention.”

Jagger bit back a laugh. Colton, ever the good sport, clutched his heart like she’d just broken it. Bubble gum appeared to be having the time of her life.

“Okay, okay, bubble gum. You got me. I think you’re already working on your Master’s Degree on gay-man wisdom. You’ve got me pegged pretty well.” His eyes fell on Jagger briefly and then returned to bubble gum. “I do watch his every move, memorizing all the perfection, focusing on the way his pouting lips are all plump and kissable. His fucking eyelashes? Are you kidding me? Those are the longest most beautiful creation in this fucking world. They desperately try to hide all those emotions swirling around in those bright blue orbs but if you watch real closely, soak up every tilt of those cat-shaped eyes, you’ll see what he’s working so hard to conceal.”

Colton’s voice had gotten huskier, his eyes a darker green than usual, and his body had moved even closer to Jagger has he’d spoken. Jagger felt a wave a heat drench his entire body as he responded to Colton’s words. He was supposed to be invisible—nobody was supposed to
notice him and here was Colton, making him melt by admitting he watched his every move. The feeling consuming him at the moment was deliciously wonderful. He hated it.

“Fuck off, Colton.” To bubble gum, he said, “I’m not his date. We hate each other. I lost a bet and here I am, in fucking hell…with the devil himself.” He frowned at Colton. “Don’t make bets you can’t win, Monica. You might end up fucked over with no way out.”

“How do you know my name?” Bubble gum asked, clearly missing the intentions of his speech.

“I watch people, too,” he answered softly, suddenly wondering how the world he’d allowed himself to be drawn into any conversation, much less the one he was carrying on at the moment. He usually managed to remain politely aloof with everyone. “I heard your friends call you by your name. Here’s another word of warning—don’t talk to strangers.” He eyed Colton up and down, trying to knock the arrogant ass off his arrogant-ass-perch, but naturally it didn’t faze him. He kept grinning like the stupid cat from Alice in Wonderland. Of course he was more like a feral cat than the pink pussy in the movie. “Stranger danger, little girl; don’t forget it.”

“Oh, my, you’ve got your hands full with this one, Sir-Talks-a-lot. He has some claws to go with his hisses.” She smacked Colton on the ass and moved ahead of them in the line, clearly ready to dismiss them. “Keep working toward love scratches to go with his purrs. He’ll be great fun, then. Hugs, you two!”

She disappeared, leaving Jagger alone with a grinning Colton. He felt like a fool. Hell, maybe he was the feral cat in the bunch. There had been a feral cat in his neighborhood when he was a kid—he probably did resemble the poor beast more than Colton ever would. The damned cat wouldn’t let anybody near it, hissing and clawing anybody that tried to touch it. Jagger had first-hand experience with how painfully sharp the Tabby’s claws were
because he had
been foolish enough to try and gentle the ferocious beast. Yep, he was the feral cat between the pair of them. The similarities between him and the wild cat were too blatant to try and ignore. He didn’t trust anybody. He didn’t like to be touched. He’d been hurt and abused much more often than he ever been stroked with love. He was a fucking loner that refused to let anybody in. Fuck, but he’d worked with that cat for over six months before the little bastard had finally allowed him to touch it. There were times, more often than not, that he’d gone hungry (well,
hungrier
) so he could feed the cat he’d finally named Tabby Cat. Hell, what would one expect? He was only nine at the time. Tabby Cat was the best he could come up. He’d fed, loved, and
cuddled that plump ball of fur until he’d finally felt like it was safe enough to deliver him to the crazy cat lady’s house. Just as he’d planned and expected, Teresa had welcomed yet another stray cat into her pussy haven. Other than attending college and getting the job he would be starting in eight days, he’d always felt that saving Tabby Cat was one of his greatest achievements. That, he realized, was pretty fucking pathetic.

Miraculously, Colton was fairly quiet as they boarded the plane, only breaking his silence to flirt shamelessly with the gal taking their tickets and then the flight attendant assisting with boarding the plane. They’d quickly found their seats and, just as he’d expected, Colton’s hard body was slammed up against his in a split second.

Fuck.

He wasn’t crazy about flying but had grown accustomed to it during his Wildcat career. That first flight? He’d been certain he was going to have some sort of embarrassing nervous breakdown in front of everybody. Luckily he was pretty much invisible to everybody, so nobody had noticed he was about to shit his pants. This trip, he had a feeling, was going to rival that first flight in the un-comfortability zone. He was so screwed. Already his body was trembling with desire just from Colton’s not-so-innocent brushes against his thigh, arm, and side.

As he buckled his seat belt, he realized Colton had chosen these seats on purpose. He was, for all intents and purposes, trapped between the metal of the plane and Colton’s hard muscles—absolutely nowhere for him to hide.

Fuck, again.

“Everything good, Wildcat?” Colton asked innocently. His eyes, however, were not looking innocent at all. Fucker. “You aren’t afraid to fly, are you? I’m sure you guys did it all the time for B-ball. You good?” He asked again.

His mind was screaming that he try to wedge his body through the itsy bitsy window and escape before it was too late. He answered Colton with a bored shrug.

The next thing he knew, one of Colton’s huge hands was curled around his upper thigh, way too close to his junk…yet too far away. His entire body jerked in response and he felt the warmth of a blush begin to stain his cheek. “Get your hands off me,” he growled. He tried to shove Colton’s hands away but it would be impossible without making a huge scene that would only succeed in drawing more attention to the hand wrapped around him inappropriately. Hell, the stewardess had already noticed and had given Colton a quick wink.

“Why?”

Jagger’s head whipped around and so he could glare at him, eyeball to eyeball. “Because I don’t like being touched! Now get your fucking hand off my fucking thigh,” he hissed. The two women across the aisle were now giggling to each other. The man sitting in the third seat on their row had plunked a newspaper in his lap to try and hide the beginnings of a hard-on. What the hell was wrong with people?

Colton chuckled and his hand squeezed even tighter. Jagger bit his lip to keep from moaning. Why would his body betray him this way? Of all the fucking people to find attractive, it had to be the one guy he hated most in this world.

“I don’t think you’re being totally honest with yourself, Wildcat. I think you like being touched…at least by me.” He leaned in closer and his hand inched upward. “You know why I think that? I think that because you’ve got the exact same chill bumps all over your body that you did that day in the showers. You remember that day, don’t you, Wildcat? When we were both naked and I stood right up against you, my cock right up against your ass, and I whispered that I was going to fuck you real hard one day. You remember, don’t you?” His lips were now less than an inch away from Jagger’s ear. “Your body remembers, Wildcat,” he vowed. “It’s responding to me right now, just like it did then.”

Jagger took a gasping breath. He was terrified he might be about to have a panic attack. It had been years since he shown that particular weakness, but he could feel the horrible sensation lurking in his mind, begging to be released again. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t let Colton see that part of him. “
Please
take your hand off me,” he begged softly.

Colton’s hand slipped away immediately and a concerned frown marred his features. “Hey, Jagger,” he whispered. “I’m sorry about that—I get carried away sometimes. I didn’t mean to piss you off, okay? Sometimes I don’t think things through all the way before I act on them.” His hands brushed through his hair nervously. “I just wanted to touch you so bad…so I did it. Sorry.”

Now Jagger felt like shit. On top of that, his left leg felt cold and lonely since Colton’s warm hand wasn’t fisting him any longer. He was so fucked.

“Forget it,” he grumbled, hating himself more with each passing second. “I just don’t like being touched.”

“Okay. Sure. I get that. I guess.”

The look of confusion on Colton’s face was almost comical. Almost. What made it not funny was the fact that Jagger didn’t like being touched. He wished to hell he was kidding around or just being a prick. He wasn’t. He didn’t like other people’s hands on him. It hadn’t taken him long to realize good things didn’t come from being touched.

“Like never? Not even during sex? No touching? That’s your ground rules?” Colton tilted his head from side to side as he commented on the ‘no touching’ rule. He looked like a puppy trying to figure out a new toy. Good luck with that shit, Jagger thought. He didn’t understand himself most of the time.

“We aren’t going to have sex, Colton, so it shouldn’t matter,” Jagger answered. “Just keep your hands to yourself and maybe we will both survive the next twenty four hours.”

“Uh-oh,” Colton finally answered. “I don’t think I can do that. What exactly happens if somebody breaks the ‘no touching’ rule? Let me know what the penalties are so I can make an educated decision on whether or not I am going to be willing to break the rule.”

This guy never gave up
. “I’ll kick your ass.”

In what could only be described as warp speed, Colton’s hand was back on Jagger’s thigh, squeezing tight, burning a brand through the denim of his jeans. A deadly smile curved his plump lips. “I’m good with that.”

“Seriously, Colton, stop touching me,” Jagger hissed through gritted teeth. This time, however, he made no attempts to knock Colton’s hand away. It felt damned good right where it was. Everybody on the entire plane had already seen the touching, heard the innuendos, so what did it matter at this point, right?

Jagger’s head plopped back against the head rest. They’d been in the air for a short seven minutes—it felt like seven days. Colton kept every nerve in his body on edge. “Why are you even doing this, Colton? Why in the hell would you waste a Captain’s challenge on something this incredibly stupid? You could have gotten anything you wanted—why this shit?”

“I got exactly what I wanted. You.”

“You’re an idiot. No, you’re a stupid idiot and your team mates are stupid for letting you get away with this. They definitely aren’t benefitting from your little warped game. How did you ever get them to agree to this stunt?”

“How do you know I’m not flying you to Key West for a big gang bang with the entire team, Wildcat?”

Jagger felt the color drain from his face. Gang bang?

“Hey, hey! Calm the fuck down. I’m just kidding with you! Please don’t tell me you think I would actually consider pulling some shit like that?” Colton pleaded. His hand was now gently kneading Jagger’s tense leg muscle. His emerald eyes were searching Jagger’s face. He leaned in and Jagger seriously thought the dude was going to kiss him. He felt his own tongue slide across his lips, wetting them, just in case.

“Ah…fuck…Wildcat. Don’t do that thing with your tongue if you aren’t ready for me to plunder that delicious mouth of yours,” Colton declared in a heated
whisper
that practically everyone on the plane had to have heard. “You had to know that would drive me wild!”

Jagger liked how close Colton was…he just didn’t like the fact that he liked it. “Plunder? Are you kidding me? Who even says shit like that?” If he leaned forward just the slightest bit, their lips would touch. Wait, he didn’t like touching
…

Colton barked out a laugh and leaned back in his seat. “Well, at least some things never change, Wildcat. You were mean to me when we were kids and you’re still being mean to me now. Don’t you ever grow weary of being such an evil little bastard?” His hand had inched up a bit higher and instead of squeezing the muscle, he’d taken to gently stroking Jagger’s thigh. Up and down. Almost touching…but not quite. “Spread your legs just a little bit, evil little bastard,” Colton coaxed softly.

“Ah, fuck!” The man in the third seat snarled out. He slammed his newspaper into the seat pocket in front of him, jerked off his seat belt, and headed toward the tiny toilet in the sky.

“Stop saying shit like that and keep your nasty hands to yourself,” Jagger ordered. “You’ve made that dude mad at us. What if he’s like a gay basher or something? He might come back and try to kill us.”