Page 33 of The Pretenders of Copper County
“Y-you know,” Chris said, wheezing like he’d been doing wind sprints. “Bossiness isn’t attractive. Amber said so.”
“Amber?” I repeated. I watched as my hand stroked his hair, my calloused fingers catching on the silky strands.
“M-my new friend. Mrs., ah… Mrs. Knuckles?” He frowned at my lips and licked his own. “She says it’s not—oh, merciful heavens.” His breath hitched as my fingers traced a path to his jaw. “Not at all, um…”
“Chris,” I said softly. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Oh.” He swallowed and let out a puff of air. “Thank goodness.”
When I lowered my head the final few inches and our lips brushed, Chris let out a stifled squeak, but before I could pull back to question him, he pushed up on his toes, wrapped his arms around my neck, plastered himself to my bare chest, and sighed longingly into my mouth.
After that, it literally didn’t occur to me that I shouldpull back any more than it occurred to me that Ishouldn’trun my hands over the curves of his ass and haul him up so he was braced between me and the door. I never considered the possibility ofnotrunning my tongue against the seam of his lips and drinking down the happy, surprised little sounds he was making and sucking on his tongue until I could no longer remember the danger he—we—had been in. The only thought I was capable of was “More.”
And holy fuck, holding Chris was like holding a live wire. He was all awkward eagerness, which was more of a turn-on than I’d ever dreamed it could be. His hands sank into my hair, and his ankles locked firmly against my ass. When I finally broke away for air, he rutted against me restlessly while his mouth explored the side of my neck.
“Oh, Reed,” he panted. “Goodguh… That isungh… Oh,uh.Wuh. I think… I might…Hnohnooooo!”
He pressed his face into my shoulder as his whole body seized, then shivered, then froze, then let out an unsteady breath.
Had he just…?
“I-I… I…” Chris stammered. His feet loosened from around my back, though his hands still clung to me. “Oh, man. I can’t believe I… I mean, Icanbelieve it, because you’re you and I’m me—” His face was beet red, and a distinct wet spot bloomed on the front of his borrowed pants. “But also, really, shouldn’t the universe have limits on the number of times a person can mortify himself in one day?”
I was not the person to ask about that.
My fucking protectee had come in his pants—inmygoddamn borrowed pants—after less than five minutes of frotting… and it had been the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
Worse than that, I wasn’t far from doing the same.My cock was hard as steel in my jeans, Dante Fromadgio’s enemies could have been breaking in through the window for all I’d been paying attention, and the man whose trust I’d been trying to earn back stared at me, trembling and wide-eyed.
That was an erection-killer, right there.
“Adrenaline,” I said firmly.
Chris looked up at me, eyes shining and glasses askew. “Huh?”
“Adrenaline.” I made sure he was steady on his feet, then took a giant step away from him. “That’s what this was. An adrenaline rush is a normal reaction in the aftermath of a life-threatening situation, and adrenaline causes arousal.”
He blinked. “Does it?”
“Definitely.” I reached out and adjusted his glasses because I couldn’t help myself. “It’s life-affirming… or tension relieving. Something. No big deal.”
“Oh.” He wrinkled his nose. “But you didn’t—” He motioned toward my pants, and his cheeks went even redder. “If you want, I can…”
Fucking God, I wanted, but…
“No!” I said, taking another step back. “Nope. I’m… all set. You should shower so you can get to sleep.” I gently grabbed his shoulders and steered him toward the bathroom with a gentle shove. “And I need to call a man about a safe house.”
“N-now?” Chris demanded. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand, which read 3:47.
“No time like the present.” I grabbed my T-shirt and flannel from the end of the bed where I’d thrown them and hauled them on, heedless of my bruises. “I’m gonna step outside, but I’ll keep an eye on the door the entire time, sodon’t get any ideas.” I opened the door, then paused. “I’ll keep you safe, Chris. I promise.”
“Right. Safe.” His shoulders slumped. “Sure.”
Outside, I locked the door and leaned back against it, taking a deep breath of cold air and willing my cock to deflate. The parking lot was nearly empty of cars and dark except for the neon motel sign. Across the road, though, Trickster’s Roadhouse seemed back to business as usual, as though the bar fight really had been nothing more than an “accidental tussle.”
I snorted, then quickly sobered.
Christ.What had I done?
