Page 11 of The Hitman's Omega Priest
“Kens.” He fumbled at the wall by the door and found the light switch. No sense in being clandestine now that the bad guys knew where they were. An arm’s reach apart and in glaring light, he stared at Drew. They’d never stood this close together, never been near enough for Kensley to feel Drew’s breath on his cheeks. On his lips. Drew’s eyes bore into his in a way that only made him harder, his hole wetter, his breaths shorter.
Those eyes.
Those eyes. His eyes.
“I know you,” Kensley said. Embarrassment over his arousal dimmed beneath shock at what he was seeing. “Only three people in my life ever called me Kens. One of them was my mother, who died when I was eleven.”
“I know.”
“And you’re not my brother.”
“No, I’m not.”
That voice. Oh, my word, this can’t be real. He’s dead.
Kensley should be reaching for his clothes and looking for the nearest phone so he could call the police. He should be worried for the safety of his parishioners. Instead, he was naked, in a closet, turned on by a ghost. The ghost of his childhood crush. “The other person who called me Kens was my brother’s best friend.”
Drew’s eyes softened, his always-attentive expression shifting into something kind and gentle. “Kens…”
“Oh, my word.” Kensley swayed, grateful for the firm grip keeping him from falling over. “Bishop.”
Drew smiled, and in that simple expression, Bishop Anders reappeared. His face had changed, was thinner and more rugged, his nose slimmer, but it was Bishop. His protector now had been his protector as a grieving boy and troubled teen, and Kensley had once thought Bishop would always be there for him. And then Bishop had died, and Kensley’s heart had shattered.
“You’re alive.” Kensley breathed the words more than he spoke them.
“I am.”
Joy and grief hit him all at once, and he didn’t think. With a sharp cry of relief, Kensley threw his arms around Bishop’s shoulders and hugged him. Bishop’s muscled arms squeezed around his waist, the embrace mashing their erections together, and Kensley didn’t care. His entire body buzzed with energy, more alive than he’d felt in his entire life. Like true joy was just around the corner, and all he had to do was be brave enough to take a few steps forward.
“I can’t believe you’re alive,” Kensley said, then buried his nose in Bishop’s neck, fighting back the urge to sob all over the man. He was too freaking turned on to actually cry. He wasnaked, in a private space, with a man he’d desired for years, and everything inside him wanted to bend over and offer his slick ass to Bishop. To finally do something he’d fantasized about for half his life, when he understood he was attracted to men. And to one much-older man in particular.
Kensley had been filled with anger and resentment the day he made his celibacy vows, and he’d lied through his teeth about not having unclean thoughts during each monthly confession. He could break all his vows right here and now, and let Bishop whisk him away to a different life.
“We can’t stay here,” Bishop whispered. “The man who opened the door? I spotted a tattoo on his knuckles. I recognized it, so there’s a good chance those men came here looking for you, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.
Kensley raised his head but didn’t release his hold on Bishop. “Because of King?”
“Yes. I can’t explain it all right now, I need to get you someplace safe.” He released Kensley’s waist and rested both hands on his shoulders. His groin shifted against Kensley’s, and they both moaned. “You need to get dressed.”
“I don’t want to, not yet.” Kensley was slowly losing his mind in the very best way. Every base instinct he’d ignored, every desire he’d rejected, was screaming at him to act before he exploded. “I’ve never felt like this before. I’m so wet.”
Bishop growled, then ducked and twisted right out of their embrace, ending up a few feet away, attempting to tuck his erection back into his pants. “Get dressed, Kens, we need to leave before those men search this hallway again.”
Hurt from the rejection, but also smart enough to know Bishop was right, Kensley reached for his underwear. “Where are we going?”
“My apartment first. I need to check in with King, tell him what’s happening, and he’ll help us get to a long-term safe house.”
“Okay.” Kensley had all his clothes and shoes back on when it occurred to him to ask, “What about my personal belongings? They’re in my room.”
“We don’t have time to get anything, I’m sorry. Your safety is my top priority right now.”
“I know. You never lied to me before, Bishop.” The one time he’d accused Bishop of lying, he’d actually been telling the truth; Kensley hadn’t wanted to hear it. “I trust you.”
“Good, because this is going to sound a little crazy, but I’ve studied the floor plans, so I know how to get us out of here without doubling back to the banquet hall.”
“How?”
