by C. B. Lewis
“Don’t go anywhere.”
Kit wanted to say that wasn’t an option, but Christ, he couldn’t even put the words together anymore. His mouth was pressed to his forearm and he was breathing hard. He pressed his eyes shut, dizzy and basking in it.
Somewhere by the bed, he heard the familiar sound of a wrapper opening.
His mouth was dry, his heart racing with anticipation.
The mattress shifted behind him when Jacob knelt back down on the bed. Another light smack followed, enough to warm, not enough to hurt, and then he almost bolted forward in surprise when Jacob’s tongue laved the offended skin.
“Christ!”
Jacob chuckled, then blew a soft breath over the damp, tingling flesh and Kit almost bit his arm to stifle a whine. His hips were jerking, and Jesus, he wasn’t going to beg, he wasn’t. He shifted and pushed one hand down, reaching for his cock.
“Ah, ah.” Jacob caught his arm.
Kit kicked the sheets. “You bastard!” he moaned.
Jacob knelt up behind him, close enough for Kit to feel the warmth of his body, but not enough to bloody touch him. Fingertips ghosted down Kit’s back, making him jerk and clutch at the bedding under him.
Suddenly, Jacob caught his hair, giving it a tug. Kit arched his neck and pushed his hips back demandingly. Only then did Jacob—bloody great bastard that he was—push forward, and his cock was slick and hard and hot against Kit’s arse.
Kit knocked his head on his clenched fists, hissing between his teeth as Jacob pushed into him, his thighs twitching with the effort of staying still. The sheets were bunched between his fingers and rucked up under his knees and toes, and he was panting hard.
“I know,” Jacob said, his voice thicker, “it’s not oral, but you going to complain?”
Kit rocked his head from side to side. No. Jesus no. “I’ll cope,” he gasped out.
It felt like a reward for giving the right answer when Jacob pulled back, then thrust hard enough to almost make his legs buckle. He pawed at the sheets and pushed back in wordless encouragement. Jacob, thank God, took the hint.
No more light touches. No more teasing. Just one hand at his hip, another under his body, grasping his cock, and then Jacob started to move in earnest. Not fast. Not hard, but slow, and Christ, deep. Every stroke of his hand was a stroke of his cock, and every bloody time Kit tried to up the pace, the hand on his hip held him still.
“My bed,” Jacob reminded him hoarsely, and as he withdrew again, a sharp, reproving smack to Kit’s arse made stars flare behind Kit’s eyes. Kit dropped his head forward again. Christ.
He was babbling helplessly, panting, and so bloody close, when Jacob released his cock, and he stopped moving. Kit almost yowled in protest, but before he could, Jacob caught his hips and lifted him just enough, and then thrust into him, hard and deep, and Jesus Christ! Right there! Kit’s gasped cry was smothered in the pillows, and he came hard, his whole body shuddering with the force of it.
Jacob was still moving, his grip on Kit’s hips so hard Kit knew he’d have bruises come morning. Kit felt only a little guilty about not moving more, but it wasn’t his fault he was all limp and boneless and good. Not like Jacob needed the help anyway. His pace quickened, each stroke sending fresh flickers of pleasure through Kit, and he hardly made a sound when he came, just a long, slow sigh, and then he was still.
As he slipped himself free, he released Kit’s hips. Kit heard the condom hit the bottom of the bin, then Jacob was brushing his fingers lightly down Kit’s sides, and reached down to smooth Kit’s sweat-damp hair back from his face. “Okay?”
His cheek pressed to the sheets, Kit uncurled one fist to give a thumbs-up. “Mm.”
Jacob leaned down, hands depressing the mattress on either side of Kit’s shoulders. “Mm?”
Kit peered up at him, feeling warm and sated. “Thank you, sir, I’ll take another to go.”
Jacob just looked at him, then broke into that beautiful smile of his. “You’re such a little tit.”
With effort, Kit managed to roll onto his back and lift one arm—Jesus, it felt like it weighed a bloody ton—to wrap it around Jacob’s shoulders. “C’mere.” He tugged Jacob down over him and kissed him clumsily. He drew back and looked solemnly up at Jacob. “That,” he declared, “was a good effort.”
Jacob looked at him in amusement. His body was a warm weight over Kit’s, and he braced himself on his forearms. “A good effort? Is that all?”
Kit ran his fingers lightly down Jacob’s cheek and traced them along his full lower lip, admiring the pinkness of Jacob’s tongue as it darted out to lick his fingertips. “Well, you know what they say about practice.”
Jacob tilted his head into Kit’s palm. The furrow had reappeared between his brows, and he sighed, his breath warm on Kit’s wrist. “You know this is probably a bad idea, don’t you?”
Kit shrugged as much as he could. “I can walk out that door tomorrow and we avoid each other, if you like.”
Jacob turned his head enough to kiss Kit’s palm. “That’s not going to happen.”
Kit drew Jacob’s face back to his. “Good.”
Dark eyes met his. “Is that so?”
Kit answered by pulling him down to kiss him again.
Chapter 27
THE OFFICE was already buzzing when Jacob walked in the next morning.
He was late, by almost an hour, and his lame excuse was that he’d slept in.
Temple raised her eyebrows and glanced at Anton, who gave Jacob the filthiest leer this side of a sexual harassment case.
The worst part of their knowing looks was the fact they weren’t exactly wrong.
After he and Kit had sex, Kit had curled up against him, the skinny little spoon to Jacob’s big spoon, and they’d both slept. Not a big surprise, given the exertion of the night, but quite a surprise in the morning when Jacob was woken by his quill trilling.
The fact he wasn’t in the office at his usual time had worried everyone.
There was no time for breakfast or even more than a handful of words. He scrubbed up quickly in the bathroom, while Kit pulled on his clothes in the bedroom. Better that way. Less chance of Kit doing or saying something to catch his attention.
By the time he came out, looking decent and respectable, Kit was wolfing down some toast in the kitchen. He rushed out, grabbed Jacob by the tie and pulled him into a breathtaking kiss that tasted of marmalade.
“Tonight?” His eyes were shining.
Despite himself, Jacob caught him by the hips and pulled him closer. “If you behave, and work isn’t….”
“Arresting me?” Kit’s lips pressed to his again. “Maybe, then?”
“Maybe,” Jacob agreed and released his hips. “Now, piss off.”
“That’s all I’m getting?” Kit looked offended. He tilted his head, half closing his eyes and parting his lips. “Go on. You know you want to.”
Jacob did, but once in a while, he had restraint. At least some. Instead of kissing Kit, he smacked his arse hard through his trousers. Kit’s eyes flew wide open, and his freckled face flushed.
“Like I said.” Jacob bit down on a grin. “If you behave.”
He nodded toward the door and couldn’t help noticing how carefully Kit was walking as he headed for it. Jacob licked the marmalade off his lips and shook his head, knowing he was a royal tit but, for a moment, not giving a shit about it.
It was an indulgence, and no one needed to know. Hell, outside of his flat, he couldn’t even afford to let himself think about Kit, if he could help it.
Thankfully, the case had provided him plenty to do. The initial assessment of Sanders’s lab by the CSU was in, and there were signs of minor cleanup in the basement. Technicians were also working on the computers. Even if the additional hard drives were gone, there could be some kind of information left behind. The only bugger was that the machines were encrypted. It was possible to unlock them, but it was going to take time.
He skimmed through the
CSU images, frowning.
Every door they opened seemed to raise more questions than it answered.
An abduction made sense, if Sanders was the technical genius everyone said he was. The fact they’d stolen much of his material suggested that he had something they wanted. Jacob wondered if they had shorted the teleportation gate to try to stop him escaping, and killed him by accident.
There was still a frail possibility that Sanders was alive, either if his assailant stopped him or if the teleporter worked, but from the look on Ashraf’s face, she didn’t believe it did. Kit’s knowledge of the mechanics gave credence to his theory as well.
He rubbed his eyelids with forefinger and thumb.
The investigation had to take on board all the possibilities, but when the possibilities were piling up by the day, it was exhausting.
A coffee mug clinked down on the desk.
Jacob lowered his hand, relieved to see Temple. “Morning.” He reached for the mug of thick, black coffee and clung to it like it was the elixir of life.
“Just about.” She tilted her head, looking at him. “Long night?”
He winced. “So you’ve been sent for details, eh?”
She lifted her shoulders. “The tech team are taking forever. Anton’s bored. We need something to keep us occupied.”
“Well, you can tell him my love life is off the table.”
“So there is a love life, then?”
He glared at her halfheartedly. “I had a bloody long day yesterday, Temple. Last night wasn’t much better. I can sleep in once in a blue moon.”
Temple smiled. “You know we just like to see you happy, sir.”
“Laid and laid-back, you mean.”
“Six of one,” she shot back, grinning. “And given how grumpy you are this morning—”
“You don’t want to finish that sentence.” He took a mouthful of coffee. “Any updates I’ve missed?”
“Nothing yet. The man from the video is still proving as elusive as John Smith. The DNA searches are being reset again, to try a different combination. We’ve got nothing.” She nodded to the desk. “Did you get the Nagy paperwork?”
He glanced at the envelope. He’d had a flick through the papers, and as far as he could see, everything was just as Nagy had said. There was even an address for the family in Hungary. It was all nice and neat, which—naturally—made him suspicious. Nothing about the TRI or Sanders was straightforward, but Nagy’s story was.
“Do you know anything about Hungary?”
Temple shook her head with a frown. “I went on a Danube cruise once. Nice goulash. Peppers everywhere. Why?”
“I’m just wondering how prevalent hate crimes are there.”
She shrugged. “Probably no worse or better than anywhere else that was Catholic or Communist. That whole right-wing surge a couple of decades back has left some nasty scars. I think they even fought with the Nazis or something back in the day? Part of the axle?”
“Axis.” Jacob shook his head. “Never mind. I’m just looking for trouble where there isn’t any. This bloody case is messing with my head.” He sighed. “Take Nagy off the board. He has no motive and has been the most helpful person we’ve spoken to.”
“Apart from Rafferty.” There was a thoughtful tone to her voice.
Jacob glanced at her. “What’s going on in that brain?”
She tapped on the back of the chair in front of her. “Rafferty. Any chance we could get more information out of him?”
“No.”
“Boss, he got us the footage—”
“No.” His tone was too sharp, he knew, and she would notice. She was too good not to. Her eyebrows rose, and he knew if he didn’t give a reason, she would go looking for one. “He was the one who confirmed that Sanders is most likely to be dead. You saw him yesterday. Right now, I don’t think he’d be any use to man nor beast.”
“He knew how that gate in the basement worked.”
“If it worked at all.”
Temple shook her head. “It’s important. You know it. I know it. Hell, even Anton’s getting something out of it, and you know what he’s like.”
“I heard that!” Anton’s voice drifted through from the other room.
“That doesn’t mean we should interrogate him.”
Temple stared at him. “That’s exactly what it means! That gate could be the explanation for everything. That poor bugger in the fridge used one, and if Sanders has created a functioning teleportation device, what the hell is he doing working for a historical research club?”
“Rafferty and Ashraf both think it was a prototype teleportation device.”
“That Rafferty just happens to know how to dismantle? Which happens to be identical to the one Sanders’s alleged attacker used?” She shook her head. “He has to know more about what the gate does. You need to bring him in.”
She was right, and that was the worst part of it.
He tapped his fingers on the edge of the desk. “I’ll head down to the TRI. See if I can get them in or at least try and get something out of them.” He pushed himself up from the chair. “It’s not the kind of thing you want to say in a call.”
Temple watched him. “Want me to tag along?”
Jacob shook his head. “I need you to keep on the technicians. One of them is bound to find something, and I need you to let me know as soon as they do.”
She straightened up. “Yes, sir.”
There was something in her tone that made him glance at her as he pulled on his jacket. “You have something to say, Temple?”
“I was just wondering why we haven’t got a warrant yet.” She met his eyes. “They’ve admitted concealing data and evidence from us. Surely that would be enough to get a warrant approved?”
He looked down at his buttons as he fastened them. “Get us the warrant, but give it twenty-four hours. I think they may be more cooperative now that they know what happened to their colleague.” He hesitated then looked back at her. “They were warned. This is their last chance to give us what we’ve asked for. If they don’t, we go in with the warrant tomorrow.”
“You think they will?”
Jacob shook his head. “I have no idea. I hope so, but….” He shook his head again. “I hope they’ll see sense.”
And, he added privately, I hope Kit understands why it has to be done.
Chapter 28
THE MOOD at the TRI was unsurprisingly grim.
When Kit entered, Paulina rose from behind her desk and hugged him. News of Sanders’s passing had probably been issued while he was… well, technically in a mood, but justifiably so.
At least he hadn’t been left alone with it.
There had been no more nightmares through the rest of the night. Part of it was boneless exhaustion, but there was something comforting about having another person wrapped around you, keeping you warm and making you feel safe.
It wasn’t until he’d left Jacob’s flat that he’d remembered why he was there in the first place. His smile had faded by the time the taxi-pod dropped him at the TRI’s front steps.
“Is Mariam in yet?” he asked.
Paulina shook her head. “She said she might not be. Ben.”
Kit felt ill. Of course. Ben. Ben would have to be told. “Yeah.”
“Janos is in, though. He said you might want to see him.”
Kit stared at her blankly. He couldn’t think of why Janos would think that. It wasn’t as if they were friends. He was just one of the many people who had had a hand in bollocksing up Janos’s life again. “Did he say where he’d be?”
“Conference room on ten.”
The lift was empty. Kit leaned back against the wall and stared at the ceiling as it whirred upward.
He’d need to apologize to Mariam for yelling at her. Not that it wasn’t justified, but it was a bloody childish way to react. She had every reason for thinking he might have blabbed. God only knew he was useless at keeping his trap shut, but this was TRI business. She had to trust
in his professionalism at least.
Said the man currently shagging their investigating officer.
He closed his eyes.
No.
He wasn’t shagging the police officer. He was sleeping with the good-looking, kind man with the big knob and fantastic shoulders.
The lift chimed and he reached out for the sensor. The hall was almost deserted, though he saw a few familiar faces hurrying here and there. Everyone looked drawn and unhappy. No big surprise there. Sanders might have been a hard taskmaster, but he was their hard taskmaster.
He continued down the hall to the conference room and swiped his pass.
The door remained closed, the sensor showing red.
Kit frowned.
The conference room was never locked.
A moment later, the door was opened from the inside. Janos looked out at him, then stepped aside, motioning for him to enter.
“What’s going—” Kit’s question died on his lips as he looked around the walls. Projections lit every one of them, and he recognized some of the images. He turned to stare at Janos, who looked back at him. “What did you do?”
“We need to find out what happened,” Janos replied innocently. “The police would not tell us, so we had to find out.”
Kit gawped at him. “Find out? Janos, these look like the police records!”
“Yes.” Janos headed back to the table. The surface was illuminated with floor plans and the layouts of Sanders’s house.
“Yes, they look like…?” Kit trailed after him.
“Yes, they are the police records.” Janos scattered a series of evidence shots and the photos of the whiteboard up onto the wall. “We need to know all of the parts of this.”
“Yeah, yeah, that, of course. Just steal the police files. Naturally….” Kit turned on the spot, staring around, then exploded, “Jesus Christ, Janos! What the hell? How the hell did you get ahold of the police files?” He pressed his hand to his forehead. “No. No, never mind. I don’t… do I want to know?”
Janos shrugged as if he hadn’t broken a dozen laws. “When he interviewed me, he let me put my name into his computer.”