Page 10 of Moonstruck
Zane’s voice was no longer teasing but raw. “Who said I want to be saved? But I have a warning for you, too.”
Asa gave a low rumble of approval. “And what’s that?”
“I will fight back.”
Asa’s grin was feral. “You fucking better.”
Zane could hear his brother’s voice in his head.You’ve lost your goddamn mind.Gage was always the voice in his head. His subconscious. His Jiminy Cricket. The ghost in his machine. Ghost Gage was right, though. Zane had lost his mind. Was he really willing to go to bed with Asa Mulvaney for a story? No, not go to bed—get hunted, stalked, and fucked by Asa Mulvaney. All on the off chance he might find something that could clue him in on what exactly Thomas Mulvaney did in his free time?
Yeah, he most definitely was.
Zane could pretend this was all in the spirit of getting a story, but the cold hard truth was Asa Mulvaney was the sexiest man Zane had ever seen up close and the idea of being held down and fucked senseless sounded like exactly what he needed tonight. Or any night, really. It had been a long time since anybody had looked at Zane like he was worthy of being hunted.
If he snooped around a little afterward, so be it.
Asa had offered to take Zane to his place in the limo, but he wanted to drive his own car. He wanted a viable escape option if this went from kinky sex to felony assault. Asa hadn’t batted an eyelash when Zane said he preferred to drive. He’d handed over his address with a smirk, brushing his lips against Zane’s cheek in a way that shouldn’t have made his dick hard.
The farther from town Zane drove, the more he contemplated turning around and going home. Asa lived on a large piece of property thirty minutes outside the city in a home he’d designed. His brother lived there, too, but they also kept an apartment in the city. Zane had thought Asa would take him to his apartment, where there were neighbors and a doorman. People who knew Zane had ever been there.
Zane sang along to Bon Jovi while he contemplated his life choices. His hands shook whenever he unclenched them from the steering wheel. He didn’t want to die in a house that had appeared on the cover of Architectural Digest. But he also didn’t fucking turn around. Why wouldn’t he turn around?
Because he’d lost his fucking mind.
He’d told Asa Mulvaney he could strip him naked and chase him. No, hunt him. Asa said he’d fuck him where he fell. That shouldn’t have been hot, right? There was something fundamentally wrong with Zane. Being stalked and claimed by Asa shouldn’t have been the hottest thing he’d ever heard. But it was. It really fucking was. He turned up the air conditioning until there was practically frost on the windows. Flop sweat wasn’t sexy. Neither was dry mouth. He took a sip of water from the bottle he’d left there earlier, grimacing at the lukewarm temperature.
When he pulled into the winding drive, he sat in his car for ten whole minutes, trying to quell the shaking of his insides. The limo wasn’t there, but the Maserati Asa had mentioned earlier was front and center. The Maserati Asa had said he wanted to bend Zane over. His dick throbbed behind his zipper. Christ. Zane wasn’t afraid. He was fucking horny. It wasn’t fear that had him trembling but adrenaline.
When he made it to the front door, it swung open before he could knock. Asa stood there, his hands in the pockets of tailored black pants that clung to thick thighs. He was barefoot and bare chested, looking perfectly at ease as he studied Zane.
Holy Mary, mother of fuck. No one human should be this hot up-close. He’d swept his thick dark hair out of his face, like he’d raked his fingers through it a hundred times, the bright lights of the foyer highlighting perfect cheekbones and dark blue eyes that tracked him as he moved.
The ink was a surprise. Asa had a huge black snake tattooed on his left pectoral muscle and a tiger on the right. Both of his arms were a swirl of black and red ink. Below the snake was a revolver wrapped in flowers.Jesus. Was that a metaphor for something?
Did Zane even care? His fingers itched to feel the ridges of his abdominal muscles. He wanted to trace his tattoos with his tongue.
“I wasn’t sure you were going to come in,” Asa said, his amusement obvious.
“Me neither,” Zane admitted.
“Having second thoughts?” he asked, his voice a warm rasp that burned through Zane like hard liquor.
Zane gave a wobbly smile. “How many times can you panic and still call it second thoughts? I’m at least at third or fourth thoughts by now.”
Asa struck fast, his hand suddenly gripping Zane’s shirt, dragging him inside and pinning him against the now closed door. He stepped between Zane’s open legs, letting him feel how hard he was. “Are you afraid of me?” he teased.
Zane swallowed audibly. “Would I be risking cool points if I said yes?”
Asa gave a husky chuckle that was like something out of some dirty novel, then leaned in to run his tongue along the corded tendon of Zane’s neck in a move that should not have been hot. “I prefer honesty over bravery.”
Zane gave a nervous laugh. “Okay, how’s this for honest? I don’t want to die for this orgasm.”
Asa’s thumb tugged on Zane’s chin, his tongue dipping inside to slide over Zane’s, before disappearing again. “You’ll still be alive when I’m done with you. Promise.” Zane’s lids fluttered as Asa’s mouth slanted over his in a deeper kiss. “Last chance to change your mind.”
Zane’s heart hammered against his ribs, and he was almost positive he couldn’t feel his feet. “I’m good,” he said, trying for casual but sounding one step above strangled.
Asa grinned, like he found Zane’s terror adorable. “First things first. I’m negative. You?”
Zane blinked, brain trying to catch up with the abrupt change of topic. Nobody had ever asked him that point blank before. “Yeah…” he managed, clearing his throat before putting more confidence behind it. “Yeah.”
