Page 65 of Hush
If they kept kissing, Tom was going to rip Mike’s shirt from his suit pants and haul him into the back seat. They’d never make it home.
Shuddering, Mike jerked back, panting as he gripped the steering wheel.
If Tom chased him, leaned over and kissed him again, they were going to have sex in Mike’s car, in the basement of the courthouse.
Breathing hard, Tom leaned away, curling over his lap.
“Not here,” Mike grunted. His voice was two octaves deeper than normal, grinding and growling over each letter. He blinked, put the car in gear, and burned rubber as he pulled out of the garage. On the street, Mike switched his dashboard emergency flashers on, strobing red and blue lights screaming as the siren wailed. Once, Tom had been part of a trial where the FBI agent on the stand had been shredded as a credible witness because he’d had a disciplinary letter in his file, a reprimand for using his police sirens for personal use, avoiding traffic and getting around the city faster. It was a big no-no to misuse the emergency sirens. But getting home, getting hands on each other, finally being together—yeah, okay, that was an emergency.
It seemed to take forever, but eventually, Mike squealed to a stop outside Tom’s old Victorian. They tumbled from the car and raced up the steps. Tom’s hands shook as he fumbled with the key in the front door. Mike hovered behind him, his hands on Tom’s waist, breathing in Tom’s hair, nuzzling just behind his ear. Tom groaned and wilted against his front door.
And then, they were inside. Etta Mae came trotting over, and then ran when she saw Mike. Tail wagging, she leaped up, trying to get his full attention.
Mike stumbled against the front door, off-balance from Etta Mae and blindsided by her jump. “Etta Mae, down.” Tom pulled her back, swatting her rump, and pointed to the kitchen. “Go.”
Etta Mae stayed exactly where she was, gazing up at them, tail wagging. She didn’t jump, at least.
“She needs to say hi.” Mike tried to hide how he adjusted himself as he crouched down and reached for Etta Mae, scratching behind both her ears. Etta Mae melted into his touch, sitting and then flopping sideways, her tiny tyrannosaurus legs waving in the air as she begged for a belly rub. Grinning, Mike gave her one with both hands, and her eyes rolled back in her head.
Tom shook his head and headed for the kitchen, dumping his briefcase and his keys on the counter. Rushing, on autopilot, he put her dinner together and popped it in the microwave. When the timer went off, he heard her run for the kitchen.
“You’re a spoiled princess.” She ignored him.
Hands snaked around his waist and lips pressed against his cheek. Tom spun, wrapping his hands around Mike’s neck as their lips met. It wasn’t a Hollywood romance, candles and roses and dripping with sensuality, but as they kissed in Tom’s kitchen to the sound of Etta Mae’s smacking jowls and the crunch of dog food, Tom felt his heart burst just the same.
Mike steered Tom out of the kitchen, his kisses getting deeper, hungrier. Hands tugged at his shirt, pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders. Reached for his belt. Tom couldn’t get Mike’s clothes off fast enough, couldn’t get his hands everywhere they wanted to be. He wanted to cup Mike’s cheeks, rip his suit off. Run his fingers through his hair, squeeze his ass. Mike was more coordinated than he was, and Tom’s clothes ended up in a trail from the kitchen to the stairs: jacket, tie, shirt, undershirt.
And then, Mike reached for his zipper.
Tom’s mental faculties fled. His bones turned to jelly, and he wilted in Mike’s arms as Mike got a hand down his pants. He gasped against Mike’s kiss, clinging to Mike’s shoulders. “Mike— I want—”
Mike pushed Tom against the wall beside his stairs, pinning him back. He dropped to his knees, yanking Tom’s suit pants down.
He nearly came undone at the sight of Mike on his knees before him, gazing at him with the hungriest look he’d ever seen on a man. Mike reached for him, licking his lips.
Tom’s knees buckled, but Mike held him up, and Tom grabbed Mike’s hair, dug his fingers into the strands. Heat, wet suction, the vibration from Mike’s gleeful hum. The heat in Mike’s eyes as he looked up at Tom nearly sent him over the edge.
Twenty-five years and only his hands for company meant he was a rocket with too short a fuse. His fingers yanked, tugging on Mike’s hair. “I’m—Mike—Shit!”
Mike wrapped both hands around Tom’s waist and gripped his ass. His gaze flicked up, eyes burning.
Tom groaned in Mike’s hold as his body caught fire, pulling him inside out from the very center.
When Mike pulled back, Tom slumped, sliding down the wall until he was on his knees with Mike. Mike’s hand fumbled for his own fly, tore at his belt. Tom was in a haze, a fog, delirious with honeyed joy. His limbs were heavy, too slow. But the world snapped into high def when Mike moved for his own fly.
Tom reached for him with both hands. Mike leaned forward, resting his head on Tom’s shoulder, his hands on Tom’s waist, hips bucking. “Harder.” His teeth bit into Tom’s shoulder as he whimpered, and then jerked, cried out. Tom pulled aftershocks out of Mike as he writhed and moaned.
Mike eventually drew himself to his feet, slowly, and helped Tom up. Their pants were open and undone, pooling low on their hips. Tom was shirtless. Mike’s suit jacket was still on, barely. He had one arm through it, and his button-down was undone, his undershirt pushed up to his chest.
“Wow.” Tom shook his head. “I didn’t expect that.”
“That was just to take the edge off.” Mike shrugged out of his jacket and peeled off his shirts. He dropped them on the floor. “I’m not done with you. Not by a long shot.”
“I’m forty-six. Not sixteen.” Tom laughed. But, even as he spoke, heat curled in his veins, a bubbling frisson that went straight to his groin.
“What do you want?” Mike reached for him, wrapped his hands around Tom’s waist. “Teach me how to touch you. How to make love to you. Tell me what you need.”
“Everything.” He said it automatically, his soul speaking before his mind could override his desires. “I want your touch, your everything. Make me feel like a real man again.”
