OVERTIME (8 page)

A huge smile spread across Colton’s face. “First of all, are you saying you might be gay? Secondly, the dude is totally going to jack off. He’s been sporting a boner since the first time my innocent hand made contact with your not-so-innocent thigh. You should be ashamed of yourself—tantalizing him with your wickedness.”

First of all—shit! Had he really said that? He couldn’t believe those words had actually slipped from his lips. He never talked. Why was he all of a sudden such a Chatty Cathy? Clearly he wasn’t ready to word-spar with Colton. Hell, he hadn’t been ready to word-spar with
freakin’ bubble gum girl.

“I fuck girls,” he answered. It was the most honest response he could give without revealing something about himself he was pretty sure he wasn’t ready to reveal, especially to himself.

“Gross,” Colton answered quickly, his smile spreading. Jagger couldn’t help but like the guy. He was trying so damned hard not to, but was failing miserably.

Not sure how to respond to the gross comment, Jagger just shook his head and pretended to mess with his phone. Yeah, like anybody would have tried to call him. Shocker! No missed calls, no text messages, no SOS messages…nothing. He cleared his throat and tucked his phone away.

“Just kidding,” Colton joked back. “I’ve had some pussy in my life and it was okay…just okay. It can’t begin to compare to how good I can make you feel, Wildcat.”

“Stop saying shit like that, Colton. Not. Going. To. Happen.”

“Okay, let’s just put it all out there between us, okay, wildcat?” Colton said, jerking around in his seat until they were eye to eye again. “You’re fighting me tooth and nail on this whole seduction thing I’m trying to get going with you and, to be perfectly honest, it’s just making me want you all the more so, what can I say, keep up the good work! Next thing, since you are so damned determined to shut me down at every thigh squeeze, lip lick, or hot whisper against your neck, you need to know something about what’s going to happen in Key West. I plan on making you fall in love with me in the next twenty four hours. It’s what I’ve always wanted and I’m pretty fucking persistent about getting what I want. Since you seem to be so totally opposite of that plan, I guess you need to come up with your own plan to make me fall out of love with you in the next twenty four hours. Just think of it as a challenge.” His head dipped until his lips were up against Jagger’s neck…right where his pulse was pounding at an irregular, off-the-charts, about-to-have-a-heart-attack rate. Gently he licked the spot and then nipped at it with his teeth. “May the best man win,
Wildcat.”

Jagger jerked away, banging his head against the airplane’s compact window in the process. “Holy fuck, Colton,” he practically roared. “I’ve known you for-fucking-ever and stupid shit has always tumbled out of your mouth. Nonsense. Complete and utter foolishness. Over and over. The same old ridiculous, makes no sense whatsoever shit, but this takes the cake of stupidity flowing non-stop from your mouth!” Jagger could feel that the heat on his face had reached the scorching level. He could barely catch a breath. His mind was screaming that he run for his life but his body, the mother-fucking traitor, was begging that he stay for more. “You don’t even
know me, Colton. You know
abso-fucking-lutely
nothing about me, so it would be impossible for you to actually have any feelings for me whatsoever…much less think you are in love. That means you are just fucking with me for your own entertainment and I don’t think it’s fucking funny! Now, move your happy ass away from me and don’t start shit you can’t finish!”

“You tell him, baby doll.” A lady muttered from somewhere behind him. Seriously—could he possibly fit through the tiny window? Plunging to his death had to be better than this.

Colton’s eyes darkened and his lips formed a thin line. “When I fuck you, it will be for both of our entertainment,
baby doll
,” he growled. His hand, the very same hand that had tempted and tormented his thigh nearly the entire trip, bolding moved upward to cup Jagger’s package through his jeans, cuddling softly before gripping tightly, forcing a hiss from Jagger’s lips. “And trust me, I can finish this
shit
. Can you? Are you brave enough?”

“Shut up, Colton.” He was used to being able to run and hide, keeping himself safely away from emotions, feelings, and all that shitty stuff that made a person weak. On the plane, trapped between the wall and Colton, there was nowhere for him to go, no escape from his internal demons and the demon cupping his cock and balls at the moment. How could this man, a man he hadn’t seen in years, do this to him so damned quickly? He didn’t do
this
—didn’t allow people to have control over him. Giving up your heart meant giving up control, and he didn’t deal with fucked-up shit like that. He’d sworn to himself he would never be weak again. He would never depend on another person for anything.

Colton’s hand still cradled his junk. Colton’s eyes still searched his face. Colton’s mouth was still close enough to threaten to steal his breath away. Colton.

“Yeah, you definitely haven’t changed a bit. You’re still just as carefully careful as you always were. You were a damaged little boy back then, unwilling to allow anybody inside that zipped-up heart of yours because you were afraid of what they might do to hurt you. You needed someone so desperately to look after you, to care about what happened to you, but no one was there. I saw it. I saw every damned bit of it and it killed me to see you hurt that way. Your loneliness kept me up at night, made me do things that I’m sure you considered borderline stalker. I wanted so damned bad to fix you back then…”

“I’m not a broken toy that needs fixing, Colton. Your money isn’t needed to repair me. I wasn’t broken when we were kids and I’m not broken now. If that’s what you’re after—the need to swoop in and save the day, you’re in trouble because I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody.”

Emerald eyes clashed with bright blue orbs. “What I was going to say was that while I was thinking of ways to fix you, my broken little boy, you actually fixed
me
. Before I encountered cold-as-ice Jagger Jameson, I was everything you still believe I am—a spoiled, rich, obnoxious brat that thought he was entitled to absolutely everything his little heart desired. After I met you, I learned to see things differently. You, Wildcat,
fixed me
. You didn’t know it, couldn’t have known it, but you changed everything about me without ever speaking a word in my direction. I wish I could make you see you the way that I do. If you did, you wouldn’t question my intentions or why I could say I was in love with you.” He pulled his hand away and turned to face the front of the plane. “So, you have twenty four hours to prove me wrong…to make me fall out of love with you. I dare you.”

Chapter 7

The rest of the uncomfortable flight was spent in total silence between the two of them. Jagger felt like he’d kicked a puppy. He’d never in his life seen Colton silent for so long, actually didn’t think it was even a possibility. Hell, he’d known him to be quiet absolutely no longer than three minute
s at a time. He’d done this.
He’d hurt this vibrant man. He was disgusted with himself. He was as confused as hell. What Colton had said to him? That couldn’t be real. This had to be some sort of extravagant plan to make fun of him, to trick him into thinking he was something he wasn’t and then yank the rug out from under him. People like Colton didn’t fall for people like him. Shit, nobody fell for people like him.

Sitting all that shit aside, he wanted to hear Colton’s husky voice again. He wanted to hear the laughter that always danced around in the deep tone. The smile that always accompanied that voice? Yeah, he wanted that, too. Sure, he wanted all those things, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew he had to protect himself. Colton couldn’t possibly really want him so he had to figure out the other man’s angle. He
wanted
to protect himself.

He just wanted Colton more.

When the plane taxied to a stop and they were given the green light to start their snail-pace exit, he glanced in Colton’s direction. Emerald eyes met his but then quickly glanced away. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I’m sorry, Colton. I promise I’ll be a good date from this moment forward.” He tried for humor. Of course, he wasn’t at all funny so he was pretty sure he’d fallen short on the humor front. “Scout’s honor.” Yeah, he hadn’t been a Boy Scout, either. Jagger Jameson? Nope, not Boy Scout material. He could just picture the looks that would have been on their faces if he’d walked into the local troop headquarters and told them he wanted to be a member. A Jameson? Not likely.

Colton reached above into the overhead and gathered Jagger’s backpack, slinging it over his shoulder instead of offering it to Jagger. A small smile, thankfully, tugged at his full lips. “Were you even a Boy scout? Because I don’t remember you being in our troop or seeing you at any of the Boy Scout mixers.”

Jagger ignored the stab of pain that went straight to his heart when Colton pointed out he hadn’t been a Boy Scout. He didn’t think the comment had been made out of meanness—Colton probably wouldn’t have ever paused to consider the fact that they wouldn’t have let him in any troop, much less the Richie Rich group Colton had been a member of. Rich people, those who had grown up with every privilege known to man, didn’t always realized that all the doors that were flung open wide for them were often (or always) slammed shut in the faces of those from the opposite side of the tracks.

It wasn’t Colton’s fault he had born into a family that viewed him as a side of shit. He plastered a fake smile on his face and asked, “Mixers? Boy scouts have mixers? That’s just weird.”

Colton arched one of his perfectly shaped brows. “Dude? I was totally not in the Scouts. Were you?” He asked as they shuffled slowly down the aisle, making their way toward the exit at the pace of snails on a race track.

Jagger snorted. “Nope.” He didn’t bother offering up the ‘whys’ or ‘why nots’. What was the point? “You weren’t? You kind of remind me of one hundred percent Boy Scout material. Are you sure you weren’t their actual poster-boy? Mr. Rich and Perfect?”

“Awwww
…you think I’m perfect? That’s so sweet,” he purred. His tongue swept out and licked his lips in a very naughty, very provocative way. Jagger felt his infamous blush tinge his cheeks as he watched that pink muscle swipe plump lips.

“Sure, sure—if removing the sarcasm I added to the descriptions make you feel better, go ahead. I’m okay with it.”

“Ha-ha. Maybe I like you better when you’re playing the quiet game…all the time?” He smiled and winked. “Nope, I like this version bunches. Let’s keep this ‘I’ll be a good date’ side of Jagger. Is there any chance he might consider stroking my ego? Hell, is there any chance he might consider stroking my anything?”

“Fuck,” Jagger wheezed. “You always go there, right?”

“Always,” Colton confirmed. “I plan on taking you there, too.”

They had reached the end of the jet bridge and Colton’s warm hand landed possessively against the small of his back, guiding him toward their exit. The erotic feeling of that strong hand on him erased any comeback he might have been trying to come out with. It felt good. Real good. Warm. Strong. Dominant. He reached back and gently knocked the hand away. He
couldn’t afford to start enjoying something that wouldn’t last. When you liked and enjoyed something, you missed it when it was gone. If you never tasted the enjoyment, you wouldn’t miss it. That motto had gotten him through life so far, so he didn’t see any reason to make any changes.

“This way,” Colton said, gesturing with his hand instead of touching this time. “Landry was supposed to leave my ride in Parking Lot A.” He shrugged with a smile and crossed his fingers. “I figure we’ve got about a forty-five percent chance he remembered to do it.”

“Is Landry a boyfriend?” Jagger asked. He couldn’t believe he’d even asked. He also couldn’t believe that a twinge of jealousy had reared its ugly head when Colton said another man’s name. “I mean it’s okay if it is,” he quickly added, feeling like a fool. “He can come along on our
date
.”
Fuck! Stop talking, you idiot! What was that shit spewing from his mouth? Come along on our date? This wasn’t even a real date…and, technically, he may have just suggested a threesome. What-the-fuck-ever. He needed to go back to not talking at all.

“Ehhhhh
, no. Landry is definitely not a boyfriend. We’re more like adopted brothers, so the thought of that is, like, gross.”

Relief. What the fuck? Why did these unfamiliar, unwelcome feelings keep swamping him? “Whatever,” he muttered like he didn’t really give a
fuckity
fuck. There wasn’t any way Colton could know his heart was doing a little happy dance inside his chest as soon as it had heard this mysterious Landry wasn’t a boyfriend.

Unfortunately, a tiny secret smile on Colton’s face told him the guy had picked up on some of his relief. Desperately he tried to think of another witty comment, anything to say that would lead Colton down a path other than he was jealous, but he was pulling nothing out of the air except blanks. Thankfully Colton kept talking, giving him a reprieve.

“What we do need to worry about is whether he remembered to do the car drop-off for me. He’s in the middle of trying to buy a club and apparently he’s one of those ‘I can only do one thing at a time guys’ because trying to get anything out of him other than business shit is next to impossible right now. If I and the rest of the guys weren’t so excited for him, we’d be past ready to kick his scrawny ass by now. Let’s be honest, there’s only so much one can hear about sex furniture and sex toys and sex, sex, sex.” He pointed to a small, battery-operated car two rows over and said, “Cool, he remembered. That’s our ride.”