Page 117 of Everything That Kills Me
“Any bites?”
Zeph looked down at him. “No one but you, Jack. Ever.”
“Shower.” Jack’s voice was husky.
“It’s small.”
“Good.”
As the water poured over them, Jack slipped to his knees behind him and pressed his mouth against the seam of Zeph’s arse. He wasn’t sure he was consciously thinking about what he was doing. He’d never done this to anyone before, but he wanted to lick and tease and drive Zeph wild. Zeph was bent forward, half-plastered against the tiles, gasping noisily as Jack spread his arse cheeks, exposed his hole and blew on it.
“Oh my God,” Zeph blurted. “What are you doing? Don’t answer that. Fuuuck!”
Zeph was making all sorts of noises, his legs shaking against Jack’s shoulders. Jack thrust his tongue into him again and again, then used his fingers to open him up while Zeph groaned and writhed under the water.
“Oh fuck, fuuuuck,” Zeph gasped.
Jack wrapped his hands around Zeph’s hips and pulled him back against his mouth.
“Jack!” Zeph called his name as he came.
When Jack let him go, Zeph slithered down into the shower tray. His eyes were closed but he opened them and smiled. “No hands orgasm. Aren’t I clever?”
“Very.”
Jack was on his knees, back against the glass door and there was no room, but somehow Zeph managed to get his mouth around Jack’s cock and his finger inside him. Jack only had time to thinkhowbefore lightning flashed down the length of his spine and he came so hard and fast that his vision wavered.
How could this feel so good?
They lay tangled up in each other, and it grew increasingly uncomfortable but neither of them moved. It was only when the water chilled, and Zeph began to shiver, that Jack found enough energy to at least turn off the shower. Zeph crawled out and lay curled on the bathmat.
“I’ll sleep here.”
Jack smiled. He dried Zeph first.Shit. Did I give him those bruises? His armsandhis legs?He’d been too rough. He should have been more careful.
He carried Zeph to the bed, and wrapped around each other they fell asleep.
In the morning, Jack woke first. He was ashamed that his first thought was to leave while Zeph was asleep. As Zeph lay in his arms, he thought about what had brought him to this point—again—and knew they were meant to be together. He didn’t want to fight it any longer.
He didn’t believe in fate. He wouldn’t have been able to do his job and put any faith in the concept of destiny. His skills kept him as safe as he could manage. One bullet, one knife wound was the difference between life and death. He shouldn’t want Zeph in his messed-up world, but last night had shown him that as far as Zeph was concerned, there was no choice. He couldn’t resist the pull.
He’d tried. Once he’d recovered from the injuries he’d sustained in the explosion, he tried to shut Zeph out. But truthfully, it had been thoughts of Zeph that had helped him survive, carried him through the long physical therapy, the further operations to minimise the worst of his scars.
Jack’s breathing caught as he remembered that night. The deck cushion from the yacht had undoubtedly saved his life. He learned later he’d been picked up by one of the many boats that went out from Cannes to see if they could find survivors. He was the only one, apart from the crew who’d been forced to leave the yacht by masked gunmen. The gunmen had disappeared.
He’d been too out of it for the police to question, and he pretended to be more muddled than he was, but he’d known it was only a matter of time before they returned. He needed breathing space to think what to say. The hospital wasn’t callinghim Sebastian, so he hadn’t yet been linked to his hotel or to the casino. But he’d only shown his passport there. A copy hadn’t been taken. In an ideal world, he’d leave before the police could speak to him, but this wasn’t an ideal world. He couldn’t even get out of bed to take a leak.
When he’d opened his eyes in the middle of the night and seen Thomas sitting at his bedside, he’d been relieved.
“Careful,” Thomas whispered.
Jack nodded and pain shot through his skull. Thomas leaned in. “What happened?”
“Picked me up in the Royale. Took me to his boat. Anchored up out of the harbour.” Jack took a few shallow breaths before he began again. “Did what was needed. I called for help. Said I thought he’d had a heart attack. One of his guys came… Did CPR. I…sensed something was off. I saw the crew leaving. Then spotted a guy in black planting a bomb. Had to jump.”
Thomas put his hand on Jack’s. “Timer?”
“Minutes on it. I dived into the water but the explosion caught me. I woke up here. They said I’d been picked up unconscious.”
