by Jana Downs
A few minutes later Brandon came back over to the table, two coffees in hand. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted to eat, but I figured after coffee we could go get some real food if you’re up to it.”
Evan’s heart skipped a beat. What is wrong with me? I’m not usually such an awkward idiot. “I’d like that.”
Brandon handed him the coffee before sliding into his chair. “I got here a little early and was playing on my laptop,” he said by way of explanation. He closed the lid on his toy. “Your file says you’re a developer.”
Evan nodded. Work was easy. He could talk shop all day long. “Yeah. I work as the IT developer, network engineer, back office maintenance person, whatever other computer system function our company needs.”
“Cool. I work security for sHarmony. I took over the work you did on the security system.”
Evan’s eyes widened. “Oh wow. I guess that was why they set us up, huh?”
Brandon shifted. “Not exactly. I may or may not have been curious to meet the guy who can outmaneuver me on a system.”
“You asked for me?” That was new. Usually sHarmony sent him requests and he got to pick and choose.
“Sort of. I don’t want you to think I am a weirdo or something, but I thought we might be compatible given our backgrounds.” Evan looked almost apologetic. “I’m not going to lie and say that I didn’t think you were absolutely hot when I saw your picture as well. But I admired your work first.”
Evan considered him a second before nodding. “Thanks for the honesty.” He paused. “You hacked the system to set us up?”
Brandon hesitated. “Would it ruin it to say that I did?”
“No. I admire the dedication. What’d you think of the system I created?”
“Complex,” Brandon said. “There is a certain section I can’t get into to do maintenance. I have never had that problem before. Do you think you could assist sometime?”
“Sure.”
The shop talk continued on for a while, and Evan found himself relaxing more and more as time went on. Usually guys as gorgeous as Brandon were either completely stuck on themselves or unintelligent. Brandon was neither of those things. He seemed very genuine and had a mind as sharp as a scalpel.
He rested his chin on his hand and stared at Brandon as the other man laughed. He was more than a little smitten with the shifter. “So what kind of shifter are you?”
Brandon grinned. “Why don’t you come to my house for dinner and I’ll show you?” The flirtation in his voice sent a sliver of pleasure down Evan’s spine. “I don’t normally shift on the first date, but I want to cook you dinner.”
He’d never had a date cook for him before. “Can you cook?”
“I know my way around a kitchen well enough,” Brandon drawled, sitting back further into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.
“Is it far?”
“Not at all. About fifteen minutes.”
“Cool.” His heart started to pound at the possible implications of heading over to Brandon’s house. His attraction was definitely there and his body was definitely on board with some intimacy, but Evan had notoriously bad taste in men. I won’t sleep with him. Normally, that would be a nonissue. However, nothing seemed normal in the way he was reacting to Brandon. He wanted to hump the guy’s leg like a dog. The decision to wait eased him somewhat. He would go have dinner with an interesting guy and finally experience a good date. He smiled softly to himself. It was about time he had some fun.
* * * *
Mine. Brandon’s instincts pounded through him with every pulse of his heart. Since his inner animal was an apex predator, his instincts were harder to repress than most. He wanted to throw Evan on the hood of his car and take him right there in the parking lot. I should’ve known from the second we talked online. Our connection was too instant, too intense. WrightTrigger was his mate. It should’ve been ridiculous to say he’d made a mate connection without ever having seen Evan, but he should’ve known that it wouldn’t be the sight of a man that would trigger his animal’s attraction. For Brandon, the mind was always the sexiest part of a male.
He held open the door for Evan, and he couldn’t repress the possessive rumble of approval that issued from his throat as he passed. The human glanced up at him in question but continued walking, the perfume of lust surrounding him. He wasn’t intimidated by Brandon. That was good. Fear was the last emotion he wanted to invoke in Evan.
He grabbed his keys from his pocket and unlocked his car door. Evan laughed as his front lights flashed. Brandon frowned. “What?”
Evan turned, throwing a grin at him. “That’s your car?”
“Yeah.” Brandon’s frown deepened. “Is that a problem?”
“No!” Evan said, shaking his head. “I just admired it on the way into the coffee shop. I really like it.” He pointed to a pristine-looking black muscle car. “That’s my baby.”
Brandon whistled low. “I can appreciate that. You and I share in more than our work, beautiful.” He’d have to take him into his garage. The cars he had stashed in there would give Evan Cartwright a hard-on for days. The idea of Evan having a hard-on just made Brandon’s body wind tighter. Damn it. He’d just dragged his mind out of the gutter.
Evan licked his lips as he stared at Brandon’s Rapide. “We do. Leather interior?”
“Yep.”
“Automatic?”
“Hell no. Can’t accelerate properly with an automatic transmission. Fucks with the efficiency of the driveshafts.”
Evan groaned, the sound distinctly sexual. “I think I love you. Seriously, marry me?”
Brandon laughed, delight tickling his ribs and filling him with pleasure. “If all it takes for a marriage proposal is a love of computers and cars, I feel like I should keep you away from most technology expos and smart car conventions.”
“If you think I frequent those, I’m a bigger nerd than I originally thought,” Evan said, flirtation in his voice.
“The best kind,” Brandon reassured. He walked over to his car and pulled over the door. “If you want, I could give you a ride. I’ll run you back after we finish up at my place.”
Evan hesitated, obviously giving the matter more thought. “I’ll follow you over. We can save the pleasure drive for next date.”
“Sounds good.” Brandon ducked in his car. “Think you can manage to keep up in your old-timer?”
“I could smoke you if I knew where we were going. Save the racing for later, huh?” Evan drawled, moving toward his vehicle.
“Whatever you want, gorgeous. Just don’t let me lose you.” He closed the door and adjusted the erection he was sporting. Between his animal and their flirty banter, he was pretty wound up. He supposed if BlackJoy asked WrightTrigger about his date, Brandon would be reasonably certain of his answer. He just hoped that he wouldn’t ruin the rest of the date with his desire. There were times when being a shifter was a practice in control. This would be one of those times.
The drive to his home passed quickly. It helped that his mind was so intensely concentrating on the car following him that he drove automatically. He might’ve teased Evan with the possibility of outgunning him, but that was quite impossible given the fact that every time there was more than a car length between them Brandon stared at his rearview mirror, his heart in his throat. He didn’t have the human’s number after all.
He’d never been as intensely grateful to turn off at his exit and traverse the road toward his estate. The builders of his exclusive zip code named Storm’s Glenn a subdivision, but in truth it was more a collection of pretty expansive estates specifically geared toward wealthy shape-shifters. He had no clue what kind of place Evan was used to, but he hoped that he wouldn’t be weirded out by Brandon’s digs.
He turned right onto his street, and Evan followed closely behind. When he hit the button on the remote hanging from his sun visor, the gate to his house swung inward. The black wrought iron was nearly invisible in the twilight were it not for
the streetlamps, so Brandon made sure to keep a good distance between the gate and his paint job.
After pulling into his designated parking spot in the semicircle of his front entrance, he cut the engine and pushed open the door. There was something incredibly titillating about having his mate on his property. The knowledge settled into his skin like the kiss of sun on the beach, warming him. He tamped down on his hunger as best he could. Were Evan another shifter, it would be a moot point. He would smell or sense Brandon’s arousal and make the choice to come home with him with the full knowledge of what would occur when he got here. Unfortunately, humans tended to drag out courtship to the point of sexual agony. He’s worth it. He’s worth anything. Brandon knew it in his bones. A mate was something to be treasured above everything else.
“I can’t believe you live here,” Evan murmured, shutting his door. Brandon hadn’t even noticed him climbing out of his car. “Are you sure you aren’t the pool boy or something and showing off for our date?”
Brandon laughed. “This ain’t a romantic comedy, suga. Though that is an interesting idea all things considered.” He started walking toward the front door that was lit with the solar lights that he’d had his groundskeeper install last summer, and Evan jogged to catch up.
“So security must pay better than I thought. Are you a drug dealer?”
Brandon swiveled his head around to see the worried expression on Evan’s face. “Boy, do I appear to have a cocaine fetish to you?” he asked, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. More seriously he added. “I am fourth generation southern aristocracy. My daddy wants me to be invisible, so he pays me a little extra to keep away from him and his little empire.”
“Ah, so you are a trust-fund baby.”
“You got it,” Brandon agreed. “Is that a problem?”
Evan automatically shook his head. “Not at all. I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t going to experience a FBI raid while I was here.”
“I’ll let you know.”
They reached the front door, and Brandon keyed in the security code on the alarm system before inserting his key in the lock. His housekeeper had probably already shut the house up for the night.
Evan whistled as Brandon pushed the door open. “Holy moley!”
Pride swelled his chest at the note of awe in the other man’s voice. He’d dreamed of bringing someone here. He loved this place from the second he’d walked through the front door. Unlike his father’s gold-leafed monstrosity, his home was clean, modern, and open with high ceilings and rich colors throughout. His furniture was plush and comfortable, and no one had ever asked him which fork to use in his kitchen. In short, it was homey.
“I’m kind of in love with your house,” Evan murmured, swiveling his head to look at Brandon’s paintings. He’d discovered an artist about six months ago that he was obsessed with. The guy painted nothing but male shifters in various states of change. It made for some beautiful, primal work. Evan reached up and touched the edge of the nearest painting. “This is…”
“Beautiful? Primal? Sexy?” Brandon supplied, stepping close to Evan’s back and inhaling the perfume of lust and interest wafting off of him.
“There is something sexual about them, but I can’t figure out what,” Evan murmured, leaning back into him. Brandon was scalded by the heat of the human’s clothed flesh. “It’s like they’re hard just beyond the canvas.”
Brandon rumbled his approval. “Good eyes. The artist specializes in shifters, but not a lot of people know that he specializes in mated shifters. Most of the pictures he paints from come from models looking at their mates. I fell in love with them in New York last year and bought up the entire collection.”
Goose bumps broke out over Evan’s arms. “I can see why.” He shivered, swallowed hard. “So what about supper?” He turned around, their faces inches apart.
“Want to kiss the cook?”
Evan groaned. “Hell yeah.”
He ducked his head forward and claimed Evan’s lips in a kiss. Their mouths merged, tongues tangling in a blatant mimicry of the push and withdrawal of sex. Evan clung to his shirt, his needy cock pressed against the hard muscle of Brandon’s thigh. Brandon’s own cock wept in sympathy. He wanted nothing more than to fuck the human right there on the carpet of his living room but he refrained. Humans were forever getting themselves intensely aroused and then saying no. He didn’t want to experience the phenomenon himself but would respect Evan’s wishes if he told Brandon to back off.
“I want you,” Evan admitted, shuddering against Brandon’s lips. Brandon growled at the needy cadence of his soon-to-be mate’s voice.
“And I want you.” Brandon took the human’s hand and pressed it to the very rigid evidence of desire that pushed insistently against the line of his zipper. Evan’s grip tightened, and Brandon let out a small moan of frustration.
Evan panted. “I told myself that I wouldn’t do this.”
Brandon blinked. “Why would you do that?” It was a legitimate question as well as a plea for mercy.
“Because I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of fang banger for shifters,” Evan muttered, not looking Brandon in the eyes. The lack of additional kissing made for a frustrated hard-on, especially when Evan’s hand slid away.
Brandon’s gaze narrowed. Oh hell no. He was not letting Evan get away that easily. “Evan, you’re mine. Do you understand me? I’m willing to take this as slow as you need me to, but nothing between us is casual.”
“Promise?” Evan asked, vulnerability written all over his expression.
“I swear it.” He took a step back but not before pressing a kiss to Evan’s forehead. “Come on, beautiful. The kitchen is this way.” He adjusted his cock so it wasn’t painful to walk before striding toward the kitchen. He needed to take several deep breaths and calm the animal inside that demanded he take his mate now and show the human exactly what it meant to be claimed. Damn predatory instincts.
Chapter Three
Evan had never been so turned on in his entire life. He was pretty sure that any sexual interest he’d had in the past had been subsequently blown out of the water by one kiss from his blind date. The promise had all but made him throw himself at Brandon. He wanted to fall into the man’s bed so badly that his balls ached. It sucked that he couldn’t trust his own instincts. He didn’t want to dive into bed with a shifter and find himself mated before he knew what kind of man Brandon Payne was.
The idea of mating an asshole sent a necessary spark of fear through him. The relationship between his friend Jude and Jude’s mate Logan couldn’t have been the norm. Especially given Evan’s luck. He was notorious for being attracted to jerks. If he understood Brandon correctly, he felt a mate connection between them. If Brandon turned out to be a weirdo stalker or something, he didn’t need the mate bond in addition to his entirely justified mental kick in the ass for falling for someone like that again.
“How do you feel about ginger and orange glazed Cornish hen with wild mushrooms and steamed green beans?” Brandon asked. “It’ll take about twenty minutes to cook once it’s prepped. I figured I’d go for gourmet but quick fix.”
“Um, does it taste like chicken?” Evan asked, feeling stupid. He wasn’t used to fancy meals or anything like that. Gourmet to him was when Chef Boyardee started advertising to adults and putting his goodies in a fancier can.
Brandon nodded. “Kind of. It’s really good. I promise. If I lie, we can always order some pizza.” He smiled, and Evan’s heart tripped over itself. “Let me expand your taste buds a bit. I promise you’ll enjoy the stretch.”
Whether it was intended or not, that sounded downright sexual to Evan’s still-aroused cock. He slid into the stool by the island and tried to discreetly adjust himself. “I’ll trust you not to gag me.” And so does that. He wanted to facepalm. His mind was so deep in the gutter he couldn’t even see the outside anymore. “I mean, I’ll trust you not to make something I don’t like.”
“Hmm
,” Brandon rumbled, the sound noncommittal as hell. The way his sides were shaking, he was trying not to laugh at Evan. Heat automatically scorched Evan’s cheeks. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
He couldn’t help but stare as Brandon made his way around the kitchen like a seasoned pro. The man even put on an apron that said “kiss the cook” that did nothing to detract from the sheer visual pleasure Evan took from watching him prepare food with the precision of one of the Top Chefs that Evan occasionally caught snippets of on TV.
“So what got you into cooking?” Man, Brandon had talented hands. He couldn’t wait to feel those gorgeous hands trace his skin and— No. Stop that!
Brandon shrugged, smothering the little thing that looked like a mini version of a Thanksgiving turkey. “I like to eat. It only made sense that I learned to cook. I took cooking classes while I was in college. It relaxes me. Besides, with my metabolism, I’d starve if my cook ever took a day off. Since I’m not here a lot and my hours are erratic, it didn’t make sense to keep a full-time chef on.”
“Is the metabolism from your animal?” Evan asked. He really was fascinated with shifters and how their animal sides influenced the men and women they inhabited. He knew that shifters weren’t a reflection of genetics or even a specific strain of animal. The virus that infected them shifted past all the bells and whistles of a civilized human personality and matched their animal to their closest base self. In other words, the person was a direct reflection of their deepest personality rather than a predetermined genetic code. However, he didn’t know how exactly that happened or how it affected the human side.
Brandon nodded as he opened the oven and slid the pan of Cornish hens inside. “Yep. It’s one of the downsides of living with a voracious hunter. I can always eat.” He patted his tight abdomen as he straightened, grinning a little sheepishly. “If my body shape reflected my calorie intake, I would look like a blimp.”