Page 30 of Over the Top

He wanted to do that again—Chas to do that to him again—worse than he wanted to live to see another day. He wanted to do that over and over for the rest of his life.

And he wanted more. He wanted to make love to Chas, to return the favor and make his best friend and lover shout with pleasure. He wanted to be inside Chas’s body the next time he came. He wanted to make Chas pant the way he had the last time, the only time, they’d had sex. He wanted to see his dick taken into Chas’s beautiful, slim body, wanted to fuck until neither one of them could stand upright.

“You okay?” Chas asked cautiously.

“Yes. No. Yes.”

“Which is it?” Chas asked.

“I’m….” Gunner searched for words. “Utterly wrecked.” Then, lest he fuck it up again like he had last time, he added hastily, “In the best possible way.”

“You sure?”

“Mind blown.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“I’m mad at me,” Gunner replied.

That made Chas press up onto an elbow to stare down at him in the dark. “Why?”

“I could’ve been doing that for the past decade.”

Chas laughed under his breath, a gust of humor that slid across Gunner’s chest like a blessing. “Thank God. When I woke up and realized I was giving you a hand job, I thought you might kill me.”

Gunner rolled over on his side and gathered Chas against his chest. “Youdidkill me.”

They lay together, their legs entwined and Chas cuddled with his ear to Gunner’s chest, for a long time. The late hour was deep and still and matched the peace settling into Gunner’s soul. Finally. He’d made up for getting it so terribly wrong the last time. Twelve years’ worth of guilt was lifting away from his heart as he lay there with his lover.

He heard a noise outside and turned his head toward the window. It sounded like a car door latching gently. Too gently, as if someone had closed it with the intent to muffle the sound.

The skin across the back of his neck prickled.

He rolled out of bed and gained his feet all in one smooth, athletic move. Naked, he moved swiftly over to the window. Standing to one side of it, he peered around the curtains without moving them.

Three men dressed in dark clothing stood behind a black SUV. As he looked on, they pulled ski masks down over their faces.

“Get up, Chas. Right now. Get dressed and grab what you can. We need to be out of here in thirty seconds.”

“What?” Chas mumbled.

“Move.”

Gunner threw on clothes, stomped into his boots, and was ready to go before Chas, so he scooped up all the baby gear and crammed it into the baby bag. He opened the hallway door and peered out cautiously while Chas scooped up Poppy behind him and wrapped her in a blanket.

Signaling with his hand for Chas to follow, he raced out into the hall and took off running on his toes, as silently as possible. Chas was relatively quiet for an amateur but breathing heavily in what sounded like near panic.

They reached the stairwell door, and he threw his shoulder against it as the elevator dinged in the middle of the long hallway. Gunner held the door for Chas to slip through ahead of him, and then Gunner leaned against the back side of the door to force it closed more quickly.

There was no way of telling if the hostiles spotted it closing or not.

“Run,” he breathed.

Fortunately, they were only on the second floor, and it was a fast sprint down the stairs. They emerged into a hallway that matched the one overhead, and Gunner took the lead, running full-out to the middle of the building and turning left to the exit closest to their car.

He slowed at the exit and eased the door open. Then they slipped outside, hugging the wall of the building. They were leaving footprints in the mulch under the bushes, but there was no help for it. Hopefully their pursuers weren’t trained trackers.

They reached the car, and he eased the passenger door open for Chas, who slid in with Poppy. The toddler was starting to wake up.

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