Page 24 of Out of Control

He would be bending and stretching, rubbing the fluffy terry cloth over his body, lifting his junk to dry it, handling himself casually. Would he think about sex when he grabbed his cock? Would he imagine fucking Drago once more? Wondering if being fucked would feel the same after all this time?

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying and failing to shove the thoughts aside. He needed to focus. To convince Spencer to climb aboard the crazy train with him and ride it to the end of the line. It was going to be a hard sell. Spencer Newman was not the kind of man to disobey orders lightly. And the guy obviously didn’t trust him either.

He was doomed.

But he had to try.

To that end, he dug in his duffel bag in the living room and pulled on black jeans and a black mock turtleneck. He pushed the sleeves up to nearly his elbows before he realized what he’d done. Spencer had always had a thing for his forearms, declaring them perfect and sexy.

Footsteps thumped down the stairs in a quick staccato, and Drago jumped for his chair. He had promised the guy, after all, to be sitting there when he came back. As his buttcheeks hit the hard seat, he had to frown a little. Why in the hell was he so concerned about Spencer trusting him? Did he subconsciously want to pick up where they’d left off all those years ago? Surely not. One thing he did know. Spencer was the only person whose opinion he’d truly given a damn about in a very long time. He actually didn’t want to disappoint the guy.

Spencer emerged into the kitchen, his short hair wet, a tarnished bronze color, and combed into its usual side part. He still had that endearing little cowlick at his hairline that sent his hair off to the side, like it or not.

He’d shaved, and his facial skin was smooth and taut over bones fit to make a sculptor weep. Did the man have to be so damned pretty? Not that he’d minded it when Spencer had been his, when he’d been able to look his fill at Spencer, day and night. But now… now it was a lethal distraction.

“You up for a drive?” he asked Spencer. Drat. His voice was sandpaper rough all of a sudden.

“Where to?”

“Tel Aviv. I’d like to take a little field trip with you.”

“The Jordanian border’s shut down. Besides, the drive will take hours.”

“If we go through the Golan Heights, we can be there in a few hours.”

“It’s not as if the Golan Heights are exactly safe at night. Why Tel Aviv? And why now?”

“Any chance I could ask you to just trust me until we get there?”

“It’s not some bar or strip club, is it? I really don’t need any shit like that right now. Not here. Not with—”

“Not with me?” he rasped.

Pain flickered through Spencer’s blue-on-blue eyes. “We have a history, and there’s no use pretending it’s not hanging there between us. Being here, in this part of the world… again… with you….”

“Finish that thought. Please. I want to know,” he bit out.

“Being here with you is hard. It stirs up memories.”

“Good or bad memories?”

Spencer sighed. “Both.”

“Yeah. Fair.” Drago stood up. “Look. I’m trying to behave. I even have pants on.”

Spencer snorted in what he hoped was a flash of humor.

“Just go with me to Tel Aviv. Please.”

“It’ll be two a.m. when we get there.”

“So? You and I both operate better at night than during daylight hours.”

Spencer pursed his lips, clearly picking up on the sexual innuendo.

Drago grinned unapologetically.

“Fine. Since it seems so important to you.” Spencer sighed. “May I assume the no-escape-attempt agreement is still in effect?”

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