Page 57 of Fool Me Twice

“Yes,” Hart moaned.

Cane tutted. “I gave you that a long time ago. I’ve never been anything but honest with you.”

“But—”

“Tell me what you really need, Hart.” Cane licked a stripe over the pounding vein in his neck before biting a bruise that would stick.

“Answers,” Hart gritted out, eyes rolling at the sensation, the pain, the sting of Cane’s tongue and lips and teeth back on his skin. He reached up and grasped the back of Cane’s head, pushing him harder, arching deeper into the contact.

“Liar.” Cane branded the word into the abused flesh and used his large hands to grip Hart’s hips and turn him around.

Hart barely stayed on his feet, hands searching for Cane, desperate not to let him go. Not again. He looked up into Cane’s eyes and found them dark, wild, and uncontrollable. He knew that look. He owned that look.

“Cane…”

“Just ask,” Cane said.

Hart broke. “I need you.”

Chapter 12

Hart

The moment the words were out of his mouth, it felt like his world finally clicked into place. Cane’s hands on his body tightened, verging on painful, but it was the best sort of pain Hart had ever felt.

He allowed himself to be lifted and placed on Cane’s desk, thighs spread wide enough to allow the other man to push between them, to press their hips together, to crowd against Hart and fill his space with his scent. The reprise of the position he’d run from just days ago. A do-over.

And Hart didn’t think he’d run this time. He didn’t think he could, even if he tried.

It erased everything from Hart’s mind. All the schedules, lists, and rules were gone. The worry about being unable to solve his case, about having to reach out and ask for advice, about feeling inadequate and untethered since he’d been put on this case. It was all gone.

All that remained was the most basic, primal part of him. The deepest part that just wanted to be naked, bruised, sweaty, covered in Cane’s hands and kisses. Marked with his cum.

He wanted to let go and be owned. Wanted to be told what to do. Wanted all control taken away from him, all need to make decisions, all demands placed upon him…mostly by himself. And he knew Cane could give that to him.

Cane could get him to that place where he didn’t have to be perfect. He didn’t have to be Hart, the cursebreaker. He didn’t have to be put together, or polished, or smooth.

He just had to be.

He felt fingers digging into his hair, a fist closing around it, tightening. Pulling hard enough to tip his chin and his face toward Cane. He couldn’t make himself open his eyes, and he didn’t need to, because the next thing he knew, rough lips were covering his. Claiming.

Hart wasn’t sure it counted as a kiss. It was too volatile, too harsh for that. The stinging nick on his lip split open again, and Cane pushed the metallic taste of blood into his mouth with his tongue.

Hart welcomed it, swallowed around it and groaned at the taste of it.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around Cane, pulling him closer hard enough to hear the seams on his shirt ripping.

“Feral.” Cane groaned against Hart’s mouth. “Fuck, you’re hot.”

Hart tugged again and brought their lips back together, tonguing at the piercing there, his legs wrapping around Cane’s hips and his arms tightening around his neck. He straightened his back so his chest was glued to Cane’s and felt Cane’s fingers dig into his sides. He lost himself. Felt himself float as every sense was assaulted by the scent, taste, and feel of Cane.

It had been so long. Too long for Hart to feel right about it. He’d missed it. Missed him so much. He’d forgotten how good it felt, how right it was when Cane descended on him like a man starved. Just how much he knew his every move, every sound.

He leaned forward more and almost fell when he realized Cane had broken the kiss. His arms were empty all of a sudden, the space between his legs vacant. He snapped his eyes open, breath coming out in labored puffs. He couldn’t think straight. He whipped his head around, feeling lost and unmoored.

“Right here, sweetheart,” Cane said from somewhere behind him, and Hart looked over his shoulder to find the other man sitting in his chair, slouched, hands behind his head.

“Wh—”

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