by Marie Sexton
I really did laugh then.
But then his hand stopped mine. “I want to do it.”
Not like I was going to argue. I wrapped my other arm around his neck, which allowed me to hold myself up at his height a little easier, propped against the counter. I kissed him again and felt his big, strong hand start to work. I really wished we had our pants off, that we were somewhere other than in the kitchen with the counter digging into me from behind, but there was no way I was going to stop him now. He was moaning into my mouth, and his fist was moving faster, and—
His phone rang.
The whole world stopped.
“Shit!” he whispered, without pulling his mouth from mine.
“Matt.” His hand was still in the same place, although it had stopped moving. “Please tell me you’re not going to answer that.”
It rang again. He had left it on the coffee table in the living room. Technically, it was the property of the Coda Police Department. I had only seen him use it a couple of times.
“I have to.” His head was on my shoulder, and he was breathing hard. We both were. “You’re the only person besides the department who has that number. And since it’s obviously not you calling….” Another ring. “Shit!” He took a deep, shuddering breath and pushed his face into my hair for just a second, and then he seemed to tear himself away from me.
He was in the living room, on the phone. I wasn’t listening. I was mostly trying to get my breathing back under control, pulling my pants back up but hoping they weren’t going to stay there for long. But when he came back a minute later, I knew something was wrong. He was deathly white, and his hands were shaking a little as he put his shirt back on and started searching for his keys.
“Matt, what’s wrong?”
“Cherie’s dead.” There was no emotion in his voice when he said it. He sounded like it was just business, but I could tell by the tension in his shoulders and around his eyes that he was upset.
“What?”
“She was murdered. Somebody shot her last night. I have to go.”
I was stunned. People aren’t murdered in Coda. People die, of course. We had our share of teenagers killed in drunk-driving accidents or middle-aged men killed in hunting mishaps. But murder? That didn’t happen.
“But… how?”
“Jared, I don’t know. I don’t know much. I have to go in for questioning.”
“What?”
I couldn’t believe how calm he was. “As far as any of them know, I’m her boyfriend. Remember? Even if they knew I had broken it off, which they don’t, I would still be a suspect.”
“Holy shit!”
“Jared, listen to me. I told them I was here last night with you. One of them will be by to talk to you to confirm my story.” He stopped now, looked right at me, and I knew what was coming. “Don’t tell them everything. I had a hard enough time convincing them that we weren’t lovers last summer, and now they’ll all know I spent the night here too. Just tell them I came here after we broke up, and I had one too many, and that I didn’t want to drive home, and so I crashed on your couch.” He looked so scared, and part of me understood, but part of me resented him for it. “Please?”
But then I realized: Cherie is dead. Cherie, who obviously wasn’t my best friend or anything, but still, I had known her for most of my life. And suddenly it felt awfully petty to begrudge him a little privacy from his coworkers.
“I promise.”
IT TURNED out to be the Chief of Police who came to question me.
“So that’s it? Officer Richards arrived at your house at around nine o’clock, had a few beers, didn’t want to drive home, and slept on your couch the rest of the night?”
It was funny that he was saying, “That’s it?” He had been questioning me for more than two hours. “That sums it up, yes.”
“So he was sleeping on the couch?”
I hated the stupid smirk on his face when he asked that question. What I really wanted to say was, What does it matter? If he was here, what does it matter if he was on my couch or in my bed? But I had made a promise.
“Yes.”
He looked a little disappointed by the flatness of my response. “Okay, well, I guess that’s everything, then. Thank you for your time, Mr. Thomas.”
“Chief White, you don’t really think that Matt had anything to do with Cherie’s death, do you?”
He took a minute to think, debating how much to tell me, but then he sighed and said, “No, not really. One of the neighbors heard a shot, and when she looked out, she saw somebody running away. She thinks it was Dan Snyder, Cherie’s ex-husband. It was dark, and she couldn’t tell for sure. But certainly the description she gave matches Dan more than it does Officer Richards.”
I thought of Dan, who was shorter than me and had a beer gut, and I thought of Matt’s tall, muscular body. It would be hard to mistake one for the other.
“That, along with Dan’s history of violence toward his ex-wife, makes him a much more likely suspect.”
“Then why go to all this trouble?”
“The fact that Matt and Cherie had been dating does mean that we have to question him. If we didn’t, it just wouldn’t be due diligence. And the fact that he’s also a police officer means that we have to be extra careful so as not to show favoritism. We don’t want anybody saying that he got away with murder just because he’s an officer of the law.”
“What about Dan? I assume you’re questioning him too?”
“We will, as soon as we find the worthless SOB.”
He got up to leave but then stopped at the door, with his hand on the knob. “Son, I know it’s none of my business.” Oh shit. Nothing good ever came after an opening like that. “I don’t know what’s going on with you and Matt. I don’t know, and I don’t really care. But let me tell you, not everybody sees it that way. I was on the force in Denver for fifteen years before I came here. I’ve seen other gay cops. And it’s never easy for them.”
He turned and looked at me now. “I don’t think you realize how much that boy has gone through for you. He had a hard enough time before this, everybody calling him a queer just because he’d been seen around town with you. But now it’s going to get worse. A lot worse.”
I had no idea what to say. I could try to deny that anything was going on, yet I knew that wasn’t really the point. They were going to think it, whether it was true or not. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I just thought you should know. A time might be coming when Matt has to make a choice. If you care about him—and I think maybe you do— you won’t do anything to make that choice harder on him than it already is.”
CHAPTER 22
CHERIE’S funeral was a couple of days later. Matt insisted on going together.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked him. I hadn’t seen him since he’d rushed out of my house after hearing about her death, and I hadn’t told him about my conversation with Chief White. He just shrugged.
In the movies, it always rains for funerals, but the day of Cherie’s funeral was beautiful. Colorado averages over three hundred days of sunshine per year, and this was one of them. The temperature was in the sixties. Only the bare trees and the dead leaves skittering across the ground gave away the season.
Matt stood with me through the funeral and either didn’t notice or didn’t acknowledge the smirks on the faces of some of his fellow police officers, including Officer Jameson. When it was over, he said, “Let’s go say hello.”
“Are you crazy?” I snapped.
“Jared.” His voice was calm and reasonable. “Just come over, let me introduce you. Shake hands and we’ll go.”
“No. You go. I’ll be in the car.”
I could tell he was annoyed, but I didn’t care. How could I smile while he introduced me when I had just seen them elbowing each other over my presence at his side?
We drove back to my place in silence. I thought he was mad about my refusal to meet his coworkers, but
as I was about to get out, he said suddenly, “It’s my fault she died, isn’t it?” He wasn’t looking at me but was staring straight ahead through the windshield.
“It’s not.”
“It is. I was dating her, and he was jealous, and he killed her. And the worst part is I didn’t even care about her. I was using her, being a stupid, selfish bastard, and it got her killed.”
We both knew that Dan’s violence toward Cherie had been increasing for years, and I thought it might have ended the same way with or without Matt. But I also couldn’t deny that having Matt as a rival would make any man feel threatened.
“What about Dan? Do you have any idea where he is?”
He seemed to shake off his momentary depression and turned to face me. “No. That bastard never seemed very smart, but he’s managed to avoid us so far.”
He was still sitting in the Jeep, which surprised me. “Aren’t you coming in?”
“Not tonight. I have to go. I had to trade a shift to get the morning off for the funeral. I go in at two, I’m off at ten, but then I have to be back in at six tomorrow.”
“Oh.” I tried to sound casual, but I felt like he was avoiding being alone with me. “I’ll see you later then.”
He must have heard something in my voice, because he grabbed my arm and then waited until I looked at him.
“I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong.”
“Am I?”
He gave me one of his beautiful smiles and said, “I promise.”
THE next night was Thursday, our last tutoring session before the Thanksgiving break, and I only had four kids show up. I ordered pizza again. Between them, they had managed to come up with about seven dollars, which they handed to me proudly.
At this point, I didn’t have to help them much. It had become more of a supervised study group, but I was there if they got stuck. I was pretty sure a few of them only came for the social aspect, but I didn’t mind.
We were just getting started when Matt knocked on the door.
“You don’t have to knock, you know,” I told him after I let him in.
He gave me the pseudo-grin. “I’ll remember that.” He glanced into the dining room, at the kids gathered around the table, and scowled. “I forgot it was Thursday.”
“There’s pizza on the way.”
“How long do they stay?” I was surprised by how annoyed he seemed to be.
“They’ll be gone by nine.”
He looked over at them again and then pulled me into the hallway where we were out of sight. He wrapped one arm around my waist, pulled me against him, and whispered into my hair, “Can’t you make them go home?”
The implications of his questions finally dawned on me, and my body instantly responded. He was holding me tight enough against him that I knew he could feel the effect his words had on me. He moaned a little and backed me against the wall. “Jared, please….”
But just then, the doorbell rang and four teenagers shouted in unison, “Pizza!”
“They have a test tomorrow.”
He kissed my neck, just below my ear, and then let go of me. “This is going to be a long two hours, isn’t it?” But he was smiling when he said it.
He sat in the living room reading while I helped the kids. I wondered if they could tell how distracted I was. Half the time, I was thinking about what we would be doing once they left. But I hadn’t forgotten the warning Chief White had given me, and I was worried that Matt wasn’t thinking about the consequences of being with me. Then I would start thinking again about how much I wanted him, and then that would make me feel guilty that maybe I wasn’t thinking about the consequences of his actions.
The kids finally started packing up their books, getting ready to leave. Matt saw and headed for the bedroom, winking at me as he passed. I knew I was blushing and had to make sure my shirt hung down far enough to cover any signs of my arousal. Luckily, teenagers are remarkably self-absorbed. They were oblivious. I got them out the door and headed for the bedroom. I couldn’t believe how nervous I was. My heart was pounding, my palms were sweating, and my stomach was in knots. I stopped first to go to the bathroom and brush my teeth. Whether that was stalling or advance planning, I wasn’t sure. Whatever happened, I was determined to let him set the pace. It would be his first time with another man, and I knew there would probably be limits to what he was ready for.
As soon as I walked into the bedroom, he was on me. He kissed me once, urgently, and then he pulled my shirt off and started undoing my pants.
“Matt, are you sure you want to do this?” I had to say it once, now, before the other parts of my body tuned my brain out.
His eyes came up and met mine. “You’re asking me that now?”
“I just want you to be sure.”
His eyes crinkled at me, then he took my face in his hands, and said quietly, “I’m sure.”
He kissed me, quick but soft, then pushed me playfully back onto the bed, and pulled my pants off. He took off my boxers and lay down on top of me, still fully clothed. I smiled up at him and tugged on his shirt. “This isn’t quite how it works.”
He smiled back. “Shhh.” His hand was wandering down my side, and he started to kiss my neck. “I still can’t believe this is happening.” He didn’t sound confused or troubled, just surprised. I put my hand on the back of his head and felt the stubbly short hairs there.
“Jared.” My name was a quiet whisper against my skin. “I can’t get used to feeling like this. I can’t believe how much I want you.” His lips were soft and warm, and his chin and cheeks were rough with stubble. He moved down to kiss my stomach, moving slowly toward my hip, alternately kissing and biting gently. His mouth never touched my cock. The fact that he was close enough to feel it along his cheek as he kissed me seemed incredible. He worked his way down the sensitive line where my leg met my pelvis, and then all around my patch of hair, tender kisses and his warm tongue leaving a small, wet trail that had me panting beneath him.
He moved back up and kissed my lips once, deep and slow and gentle, and then stood up and began to get undressed. I sat up on the side of the bed to watch him. I wondered if I would ever get used to how beautiful his body was—strong and muscular, his skin smooth and tan. Next to him, I felt scrawny and pale.
He must have seen something on my face, because he cocked his head at me and said teasingly, “Now what?”
I looked him up and down again and said, “I’m suddenly feeling terribly inadequate.”
He smiled down at me. “Are you kidding? Don’t you have any idea what you do to me?”
I smiled back. There was certainly no doubt, now that he was naked, that this was what he wanted. “I can see, actually.”
I grabbed his hips and pulled him over to me. I kissed his stomach first, as he had done to me. The trail of hair leading down from his navel was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. I remembered that night in the tent, months before, when I had been so turned on by the thought of it. Tonight I actually did follow it, first with my fingertips, and then with my lips and tongue. I leaned into that patch of thick, jet black hair at its end. He smelled amazing: musky and masculine and intoxicating.
He was making a low moan deep in his chest, almost like a purr, that was driving me wild, and he had a double fistful of my hair. I put my tongue right at the base of his shaft and slowly ran it up his length, all the way to the salty drop at its tip. I teased my tongue over his slit and then closed my lips over his head, just where the ridge was, and sucked hard. His fingers twitched in my hair, and I heard him moan. I worked my tongue over his slit again, around his rim one more time, and then grabbed his ass with both hands and pulled him toward me so that his cock pushed deep into my mouth. His breath caught, and his hands gripped my head hard, holding me in place for a second, his cock almost gagging me and my nose buried in his thick hair. I thought he was going to come. But suddenly he pulled away, pushing me back gently at the same time.
I looked up, alarmed. “What�
��s wrong?”
“Not that way,” he said. He pushed me onto my back and then lay down on top of me. “I want something for both of us this time.” He kissed me. It started out tender. His tongue touched mine, and then he sucked at my bottom lip. But it quickly grew more urgent, hungrier. One of his hands went into my hair, and he pulled hard, angling my head back so that he could get to my neck. I ran my hands over his body— first the soft yet prickly stubble of his military short hair, then his strong shoulders and arms, down his back, and around to his stomach, which was perfect, hard and ridged with muscle. My fingers found that tantalizing trail of hairs leading down from his navel. I couldn’t stay away from it.
He was still on my neck, licking, kissing, and biting a little. His other hand was roaming over my stomach, down my thigh, then between my legs. His fingers felt everywhere, alternately stroking me and exploring until I thought one more touch might be enough to send me over the edge. I could feel his erection grinding hard against my leg.
I reached into the drawer of the bedside table and found the lube. He stopped kissing my neck and looked worried as he watched me apply some to my rim.
“I didn’t mean that,” he said quietly.
“You don’t want to?” I said it as casually as I could. I didn’t want to push him.
“I’m not saying I don’t want to. But will that be for both of us?”
I realized what he was asking—would I actually enjoy it too?—and kissed him. “Yes. Trust me.”
He relaxed again and went back to my neck, and I was surprised to feel his fingers moving down on my body, past my perineum, gently exploring the area. His fingers starting moving in soft circles around my rim, and I wrapped my arms around him and arched into him, moaning. I heard him say softly in surprise, “Oh,” in my ear. Then he whispered, “Tell me what to do.”
I had never really been one for giving orders in bed, but I managed to say, “Harder.”
The pressure increased, and it felt great, but I really wanted more. I pushed against his hand, wanting to feel his fingers inside me. “More, Matt, please,” I whispered. But I felt him tense a little at that, and he shook his head and his hand moved away. Apparently I had found the end of his current comfort zone.