"But I don't know that." Sam was careful to keep his voice low and nonconfrontational. "You've always said no. You've always kept the job between us. I was the one who put myself out there, even when maybe I shouldn't have. And you said no."
Michael's eyes blazed. "I kissed you, if you recall."
"I do. But I pushed you to it." Sam sighed and crossed his hands over his stomach. "It's always me, Michael. I have no doubt you feel... things. But for someone who's so open to loving whoever catches his eye, you sure keep yourself closed off from me. So. Say what you want. Think what you want. I know there's more going on here."
Michael squinted. "How can you be sure?"
Sam cocked his head to the side and tried to find the words for the revelations he'd recently had. He'd had a lot of time to think since he left Michael's office.
"Because, if it were just the job, you would have shut it down a long time ago. I mean, sure you've said we can't. You've told me to stop flirting, but you didn't mean it." Sam sighed. "That didn't come out like I meant. I just mean, if you really wanted me to stop, you would have reprimanded me formally. You wouldn't have given me small indications for years that you feel things too. You wouldn't have let me hope."
The last came out like an accusation, but Sam didn't care. He was tired--tired of hoping and hurting, pining and needing. Things could have been so good between them, but he was done. Michael's shoulders slumped, and though Sam hated to see him defeated, he couldn't just let it go.
"I'm leaving. Okay? I'll make a new home somewhere else. And this thing between us will fade in time. For both of us." He took a breath. "So how about you tell me the truth now."
Michael's head shot up. "I've never lied to you."
"Maybe not outright. But you haven't told me the whole truth either. Can you do that now? Since I'm leaving anyway. Don't I deserve that?"
Silence. The only sound was the little bell on Cameron's collar as he skirted the edge of the living room and shot up the stairs. Sam was sure he could feel the tension in the room, and Cameron never liked dealing with tension. Sam didn't either, for that matter. But he couldn't take off like a cat.
"I can't be what you need."
The admission was quiet and full of despair. Sam blinked, and disbelief ran through him. Michael didn't look at him, and Sam suddenly needed him to. He couldn't have heard what he thought he did. It was just not possible. How could Michael think that?
"What would make you think that?"
Michael slowly straightened, and Sam could practically see him steeling his resolve. Sam wanted to demand that he explain himself, but he refrained. Michael would explain, or not, in his own time. And Sam had to let him do it if he was ever going to get the answers he'd needed to hear for a decade.
"The 'job thing' is part of it. A big part of it. But not all of it."
Finally some truth. Sam's resolve to remain stoic and silent crumbled. That kind of admission deserved a reward. He stood, crossed the space between them, and sat next to Michael on the couch. Not close enough to touch, but he could feel the heat rolling off him.
"And what's the rest?" Sam asked carefully.
"I'm a Guardian, Sam. That means some of my attention is always going to be focused on other people. Work, home--it's always a part of me. It's important to me. I wouldn't shut it off even if I could. But you won't ever have all of me because some of it always belongs to other people."
"Okay, but that doesn't mean--"
Michael held up a hand. "I don't know how to say this, so please just let me get it all out. Okay?"
The request was made with such soft pleading that Sam had no choice but to agree. He mimed locking his lips and throwing the imaginary key over his shoulder. That earned him a small laugh, and Sam smiled in return.
"So there's the job on two levels, right? But there's also...." Michael scrubbed a hand over his face. "Shit, Sam. I'm a Guardian. We can't ever bond because part of me is always engaged with the well-being of others. Don't you deserve a bond?"
Sam waited a beat to make sure the question was not rhetorical, and then he shrugged. "They're so rare anyway. I wasn't even sure they existed until Blake and Derek. But so what if we couldn't bond? We could have a fulfilling, loving relationship without it."
Michael gave him a look that said "maybe so," but he didn't speak aloud. He opened his mouth, closed it, swallowed, and then sighed. "Fuck it. Might as well tell you it all."
"Please do," Sam murmured.
"My nature, who I am, my genes.... I'm possessive--overly so. Overbearing and demanding. When I'm with someone, their well-being is my responsibility, whether they want it to be or not. Their care falls to me, and I take that seriously. It's too much. I know it is, but I can't stop it. I've had many lovers in the past, and every one of them has ended up leaving because they couldn't handle me." Michael grabbed Sam's hand and turned his body so he could give Sam every ounce of his attention. "I never wanted to drive you away, so I used the one thing I knew would stick. I'm your boss, so it's unacceptable. But in the end, I drove you away anyway.
"I want what's best for you, Sam. For your health and well-being. I want it to be me, but I know it's not. So I have to let you go. But I didn't want to do it, didn't want you to go with bad blood between us."
Sam let that all sink in and tried to assimilate the new information with what he already knew. As he thought about it, he realized it made sense. Well, not sense in the general scheme of things, but sense to Michael. As someone who was too close to the situation, Michael couldn't see the one big flaw.
He was still holding Michael's hand, and he reveled in Michael's warmth and his strong fingers wrapped around his own. Sam swept his thumb along the edge of Michael's hand. A faint tremor rippled along his skin at the touch.
"Did you ever think you missed one important thing in all that logic, Michael?"
"What's that?" Michael sounded breathless, and Sam smiled.
"That it was the people you were with that were the problem. Not you."
Michael opened his mouth, but Sam squeezed his hand and cut him off. He made a soothing noise low in his throat and kept up the sweeping motion with his thumb. Michael's brows crinkled, but he shook his head.
"Have you ever tried dating a ghostwalker?"
Michael jolted as though the words were made of electricity. He lifted his gaze from their hands and latched on to Sam's. Sam leaned back, but didn't let go. He gave Michael a little space without separating them.
"See, it seems simple enough to me. The way you are, the things you want, most people would find that overbearing." Sam shrugged one shoulder. "But a ghostwalker? Not so much. You're hardwired to care. Your genes are coded to make you think and act a certain way. And so are a ghostwalker's. We need care. We thrive on being taken care of. It just might be that your perfect fit is a ghostwalker, hmm?"
Michael sucked in a breath, not quite a gasp. "I never...."
Sam nodded. Slowly he let go of Michael's hand. He hated to lose the contact, but it was necessary. He slid over a little and put even more space between them. "Maybe it's too late for us, but that doesn't mean you can't try with someone else. I don't know quite how that would work, but...." Sam shrugged. "Philly isn't that far away, and they have a huge Ghostwalk department. Maybe you can find someone there."
"What're you.... Sam?"
"I'm leaving, remember?" Sam said it as gently as he could. He hadn't meant to insinuate anything about them. Okay, maybe he had subconsciously, but there was no hope for them.
"Right. I know. I just... shit." Michael chuckled and dropped his head back onto the couch.
Sam had to swallow his groan. The way Michael looked, all spread out, his head tipped back and exposing his throat, was just too much. Sam wanted to crawl into his lap, kiss him senseless, and then ride him until both of them were too sore to move. The feelings in and of themselves weren't new. Sam had always wanted those things with Michael. But with the prospect of leaving and in the shadow of Michael
's confession, he thought maybe he could do just that.
It was a bad idea, and Sam knew it--knew that it would just make the hurt worse afterward, knew that having him and then letting him go would make everything a million times worse. But he just didn't care. First and foremost was the need to know what Michael tasted like--felt like. He was sure they'd be explosive in bed, and he was absolutely certain that a night with Michael would be the best he'd ever had.
Sam was leaving, and he wanted that with Michael.
"Hey," Sam said, his voice soft and low. "As soon as my transfer comes through, I'll be gone, right? It's not like I have to work out my notice. Just pack up my stuff and my cat and go."
Michael scowled hard. "Yeah. So?"
Sam took a breath and then a chance. He slid closer, and then, with his gaze fixed on Michael's, lifted up, swung a leg over, and landed on Michael's lap. Immediately Michael gripped his thighs in his hands, and a moan that sent shivers down Sam's spine tore out of Michael's throat.
"What are you... fuck... doing?"
"One night," Sam whispered. He leaned forward until their lips were a scant inch apart, and their breath mingled as they fought to breathe. "I don't want to be left wondering what it would be like--the thing I'll wonder about for the rest of my life. It's not going to make this any easier. Hell, it might make it worse. But I'm leaving, and I just want one night with you."
Michael licked his lips, his body tight and tense under Sam's. He didn't relax, barely even breathed, as Sam slid his hands up his chest and over his shoulders.
"Tell me no if you don't want it. Say the words, and I'm back across the room. I'll respect it if you say no."
Sam meant it. And he'd do it, if that's what Michael wanted. He internally braced himself and waited to hear the word.
Michael surged up and kissed him instead.
Chapter Twelve
WITH a twist of his hips, Michael powered Sam down onto his back. His hands sank into the couch cushions as he pressed them together for full body contact and fit himself between Sam's thighs. How long had he wanted that? To feel Sam under him, his strong, lithe body straining for more connection. Michael gripped Sam's knee, pulled his leg up and around his hip, and settled his weight more fully.
"God, yes," Sam breathed and then attacked Michael's mouth again--all lips and tongue, a little desperate. Michael knew how he felt. He couldn't get enough of the taste of Sam's mouth, and he'd be happy just to lie there, grinding and kissing for the rest of eternity.
Sam speared his fingers through Michael's hair, pulled a little, and used his hold to adjust their angle. Michael slid his hand up the leg of Sam's shorts and kneaded the hard muscle as he worked his way to the junction of his thigh. The shorts weren't quite loose enough, and Michael's forearm got trapped. He couldn't move any farther, and his growl was half arousal, half frustration. So he moved his hand to Sam's waist and worked his fingers beneath the hem of his T-shirt.
With a little mewl, Sam arched into his touch. His skin rippled under Michael's questing hand, and Michael smiled into their never-ending kiss. Sam was soft and smooth, lightly muscled, and Michael moved higher so he could scrape his thumb across Sam's nipple. With a shudder, Sam yanked his mouth away to suck in a breath.
"Wait," he whispered, panting hard. Michael froze.
Sam's pupils were blown. The black nearly obliterated the blue. With wet and kiss-swollen lips, Sam looked completely debauched. Michael felt a flash of pride--he'd done that to Sam--before jealousy surged in its place. How many others had seen Sam that way? No. He shoved that down. Nothing could be done about the past. If Sam had other lovers before, that was Michael's fault for pushing him away for so long.
"Let me up," Sam commanded softly.
Michael immediately pushed up and sat back on his heels. Had Sam changed his mind? Michael's heart pounded in his chest, and the adrenaline spike had nothing to do with his painfully erect cock and the beautiful sight spread out before him and everything to do with the fear that Sam was calling a halt. It had been Sam's idea, but maybe he was realizing that it was a bad choice.
Sam wiggled his way up the couch and then stood. He breathed for a second--his shoulders heaved with the motion--and then turned a sweet and decadently sexy smile to Michael. When he held out his hand, Michael took it without hesitation.
"Come with me."
Michael's legs barely worked, but he followed Sam through the living room and up the stairs. His grip on Sam's hand was probably too tight, but there was a part of him that was worried that, if he let go, Sam would disappear or he'd wake up to find that it was all a dream, and he was alone in bed with Sam's impending departure weighing heavily on him.
But it was real. The moment Sam pulled him through the door and into his bedroom, Michael's breathing eased. But it picked up at the sight of the rumpled bed. He couldn't wait to push Sam onto it and just devour him.
"Stay right there for a second." Sam lifted Michael's hand, kissed the back of it, and then let him go. Michael almost whined at the loss, but he swallowed the sound and watched curiously as Sam shut the door, stood there for a long moment, and then opened it again. Michael cocked his head to the side, and confusion swirled through him, but understanding dawned as a black streak shot out from under the bed and through the doorway. Sam chuckled as he shut the door again.
"There. We're alone now." He sauntered closer with a sexy sway in his hips. "Cameron doesn't like being shut in. And I didn't think we'd want a yowling interruption."
Michael chuckled too, grabbed Sam as soon as he was close enough, and pulled him in tight. He put one hand against Sam's cheek and used his thumb to tilt his face up. "You thought right."
He bent his head, intent on more kissing, but Sam turned his face and pressed his lips to Michael's palm instead. Then, with a seductive smile, he took Michael's hands in his own and led him to the bed. With a gentle push, Sam nudged Michael to sit on the edge of the mattress. Then he immediately dropped to his knees.
Michael groaned loudly. "Damn."
"In a minute," Sam murmured and reached for Michael's feet. Before he realized what was going on, Sam had his boots untied. Michael got with the program and helped Sam remove them. While Sam put the boots aside, Michael stripped off his socks.
"Hey now. I'm undressing you," Sam admonished playfully. "Just sit there like a good boy."
Michael growled, but it did nothing more than make Sam laugh again. He rose to his full height, grabbed the hem of Michael's shirt, and then slowly but steadily pulled it up and off. Sam tossed it behind him with a flourish. Then he reached for the button on Michael's jeans, and Michael sucked in a breath and leaned back slightly to make it easier. Sam's nimble fingers made quick work of the button and zipper, and then he grabbed the waistband.
"Lift."
Michael did and let Sam pull the jeans and boxers off his hips. Sam bent to maneuver the fabric down his thighs, which bought his mouth perilously close to his raging dick. A gust of breath wafted over the tip, and Michel moaned as a drop of precome slid down his length. Sam licked his lips.
"You keep looking at me like that, and this will be over all too soon." Michael released a shaky laugh.
"I don't think so." Sam's grin was wicked, and he dropped the clothes to the floor. "Lie back."
Michael moved, but he kept his gaze fixed on Sam as Sam took off his own clothes. He didn't make a show of it, but he didn't hurry either. The fabric slithered over his body, a sensual rasp of sound that had Michael panting hard with each revealed inch of skin. Good Lord. He'd always known Sam was beautiful. But naked he was downright stunning--golden skin, barely defined muscles, a smattering of hair across his pecs that arrowed down and all but disappeared over his stomach, only to reappear around his cock. Michael's mouth watered at the sight, and he wanted that perfect length buried in his throat. He started to sit up and reach for Sam, but Sam shook his head. Michael went still.
Sam looked pleased, and he made a happy humming noise as his ey
es dropped to half-mast. Then, with a sensuous roll of his hips, he crawled onto the mattress and swung one delectable thigh over Michael's hips. With exaggerated slowness he lowered himself until their dicks were pressed against one another.
They both groaned, and Michael slid his hands along Sam's sides as Sam placed his palms on Michael's chest. His gaze dropped down and he watched as Sam rubbed at the fur across his pecs. Sam purred and then lowered his head to kiss and nip at Michael's collarbones.
As he dug his fingers into Sam's hips, Michael let out a quiet moan. For a long moment, all he could do was lie there and feel. The hot, wet suction of Sam's mouth was almost too much, along with the press of skin against every inch of him. He was starving for Sam's touch, and his body drank it in, absorbed it, and demanded more. He rolled his hips and gently sought friction, but too much and he'd be done.
He distracted himself by sweeping his hands up Sam's back, pressing and touching, rubbing and feeling. The muscles bunched and jumped under his hands, and Michael focused on causing more reactions. His touch on the back of Sam's neck made Sam sigh. He scraped his nails down, and it made Sam shiver. And when he got to the top of Sam's ass, Sam went absolutely still and panted wetly against Michael's chest.
Slowly and deliberately Michael grabbed Sam's asscheeks, kneaded them, and then spread him. Sam gasped and buried his face against Michael's neck. His moan came up from his toes when Michael gently delved into his channel. Michael smirked, satisfied at the reaction, and then started to rub. The barest of touches to Sam's hole made him shiver and shake.
Michael rolled them over so he was once again on top, with Sam splayed below him, boneless and panting. He shot Sam a wicked grin and then began his own exploration. He got his mouth into the act, kissing and sucking. He left one hand where it was and gently massaged Sam's hole, but the other he used to pinch and rub. He latched on to one nipple, played with the other, and loved the way Sam whined and arched and then twisted as though he couldn't decide if it was too much or if he wanted more.
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