Page 27 of How Much For a Life of Lies?

“Zach? Do you want to go back? We can?—”

“Stop!” Zach yanked at his seatbelt and stumbled out of the car, bending at the waist, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. I unbuckled my belt, then grabbed the keys from the ignition before I followed him out, reaching for his shoulder to offer comfort or support or whatever the hell he needed. But he recoiled.

Tears streamed down his face unchecked, his attempts to stifle them proving futile. The pain and anguish were devastating, and his emotions were too raw to contain.

“Let’s get you inside,” I urged, fumbling for the key he’d given me, and trying not to stare at him as he broke into a million pieces. I could go back, get the kid, make Zach see that this was wrong for him—I just needed to get him inside. The door opened, and I yanked him inside, Zach was still crying, silent tears worse than the noisy sobs, and then I shut the door behind us, and now he could let everything out. Should I hug him? A normal person would offer a hug, right? I touched his shoulder again, but he wasn’t startled and he didn’t shove me away, so I pulled him in for a hug. He was a head taller than me, and he buried his face in my neck, shuddering with each breath.

I couldn’t help but think we fit together so perfectly.

“You wanna go out and hit something? Someone? Go to the range?” I rubbed circles on his back, knowing that once we separated he’d hate that he let me see this side of him, and not wanting to move.

“Please,” he muttered, and I eased him away.

His eyes were half closed, his face blotchy from the tears. I cradled his face, rubbed my thumbs under his eyes. We might not be the best of friends, but life had thrown us together as partners, and I was heartbroken that Charlie wasn’t here, but it wasn’t my place to grieve.

“Please what?” He wasn’t making any sense, and I released my hold of him. “You want to hit something? Shoot something?”

“You,” he said and then shoved me in the middle of my chest. I hadn’t expected the shove, and I stumbled back, but righted myself in an instant. If he needed to hit me, let out his frustration and anger on me, then I’d take it.

I’d do anything for him.

Anything.

“You want to fight?” That was one way of handling the emotion.

His eyes glinted. “Sure.”

We circled each other, difficult with so much shit lying around, and when I dived for him, I was off-balance. He caught me and shoved me away, but there was no threat in his expression, no focus, his eyes remained bright with tears.

“You’re not even trying,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“Wouldn’t want to hurt you,” I said in an even tone.

We met in the middle, me able to pivot with my lower center of gravity, him with his extra height and weight, in a clash of limbs, but instead of pushing me away he gripped me and then shoved me down onto the sofa. He straddled my lap, taking me by surprise, and closed his hands around my throat.

I struggled to test the hold. “Is this a new move, big guy?” I deadpanned.

“You need to stop me,” he snarled. We stared at each other, and fuck, I was getting hard. I wriggled to relieve the pressure. And his eyes…

His eyes were beautiful, sparking with need and temper.

“Fuck me,” I demanded, and I could see all the emotions from anger to self-hatred to want. I saw the moment he pulled back, and I curled a hand into his shirt, holding him steady.

He pressed a hand over mine. “Kai…”

That wondering word was all I was going to get before he slammed his mouth against mine and I was scrabbling for purchase with the taste of blood on my tongue. The kiss was nothing like affection. It was a raw passion with no limit, and fuck, I was there for that.

He reared back. “Kai?” This time my name was a question as he released his chokehold and gripped my shoulders instead. Somehow in all of this he was asking for consent, and my cock was way too interested in the proceedings as I pulled him back to me for more kissing.

“God, yes,” I snapped.

We tore our clothes off, threw them aside, scrambled and snarled and fought for control, but I knew what I wanted—him inside me. He found lube and a condom. Fuck knows where he kept it for it to be at hand, and he keened in desperation as he pulled at my jeans.

This was wild.

This was honest.

I kicked off boots, pushed denim and underwear to the floor, then turned to lean over the back of the sofa, ass up and wanting everything.

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