“Our people?” Rusty said again, or rather shouted. He was usually a quiet guy, slow to anger. But something about Ace and this day was making him lose his shit. “I don’t want to be part of our people! I just want to be people! No labels. No distinctions.”
“Hogwash!” Ace stomped up to him until they were toe to toe.
“Excuse me?”
“That’s rainbows and puppies and glittery unicorn farts! The world labels. You’re a redhead.” Ace poked him in the chest, then hooked a thumb back toward himself. “I’m a blond. You’re a marine.” Poke. “I’m a sailor and pilot.” Thumb. “You’re from PA.” Poke. “I’m from So Cal.” Thumb. “We’re both gay! It’s all labels. None any different from the others. So don’t try to hide what’s really going on with you behind that bleeding-heart I don’t want to be labeled bullshit.”
“It’s none of your damn business!” Rusty’s anger had grown into a fiery fury.
“But you keep making it my business!” Ace shot back. “You’re the one who brings up the subject!”
Rusty didn’t think. He couldn’t think with Ace so close, so magnificent in his anger. He simply went with his gut and yanked Ace forward into a lip-smashing kiss.
With both hands on either side of Ace’s face, he held the man still for his assault. Ace tried to shove him away, but Rusty gave no quarter. And eventually, magically, Ace stopped struggling.
What had started out as punishment quickly became pleasure. Their arms wrapped tight around each other, their mouths open and hungry. Ace tasted sweet, like cinnamon gum and sunshine. He smelled sweet too, all spicy aftershave and soap.
Rusty wanted to devour him whole. Taste and touch and know every inch of him and—
Ace shoved out of his embrace so fast, Rusty stumbled. When he regained his balance, chest heaving with exertion, he lifted his eyes to find Ace standing beside the chair, one hand on the back as if he needed the support, the other hand rubbing his nape.
Even in the darkness, Rusty could see that Ace’s blue eyes were narrowed. “Why did you do that?”
“Kiss you?”
Ace nodded.
“Because you started a fire, and I wanted you to burn in it a little. Figured it was only fair.” He shrugged his shoulders, pretending he wasn’t still reeling from how quickly their passion had exploded.
For a while, Ace said nothing. Then he murmured, “But the difference between me kissing you and you kissing me is that I kissed you to prove a point to you. You kissed me to punish me.”
And just like that, Rusty felt like a true shit-heel.
“Screw you for using my desire against me.” Ace shook his head, his blond hair catching what little light the night-light afforded.
Even though Rusty knew it wasn’t true, he heard himself yelling, “That’s exactly what you did!”
“No. It’s not. And the fact that you can’t see the difference…” Ace didn’t go on, simply let the sentence dangle.
A smarter man might have been able to offer up something in his own defense. As it was, Rusty simply curled his hands into fists and glared, a cauldron of emotion bubbling inside him.
* * *
“Emily, my darling lass…”
Emily came awake in the most delicious way, with Christian leaning over her, planting sweet kisses across her collarbone.
“Wake up. Rusty and Ace are at each other’s throats again.” He latched on to the bone and gave it a gentle bite that sent shivers all through her.
The sound of raised male voices coming from down the hall had her groaning. “Ugh. Those two should do it already so the rest of us can have some peace and quiet.”
“Mmm.” He nuzzled her neck, and she tilted her head to give him better access. “I believe Ace once said the same thing to you and me.”
“And see how right he was?” She speared her hands through his soft hair, loving how the thick strands curled around her fingers. “We’re the epitome of peace and quiet.”
He snorted and pushed up on his elbow to gaze down at her. A night-light was plugged into a socket by the door, but its glow was barely enough to see by, and in the darkness, Christian’s tan skin and dark hair blended into the shadows. Only his eyes gleamed, looking feral. Hungry.
“I hate to tell you this, darling, but there is nothing peaceful or quiet about what you and I were doing in this bedroom. In fact, I’m fairly certain that at one point you screamed so loudly you made the chandelier rattle.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “You’re one to talk. When I made you come, you threw your head back and howled. I think I heard dogs barking from three miles away.”
He grinned, and that’s all it took. One smile, and a wave of heat washed over her. “Cheeky wench,” he said.
“I like that.”
“What?”
“Being called cheeky. It’s so much more flattering than…say…bossy or impudent or brazen.”
“But you’re all of those things too.”
She gave him the evil eye.
“And I love that about you.” She stilled at the l-word, her breath strangling. If he noticed, he didn’t let on, simply said, “Now, shall we go put a stop to the bloodshed?”
“Maybe it’s better if we let them work it out between themselves.” She hoped he couldn’t hear how hoarse her voice sounded. I love that about you. His words tumbled around inside her head, making her dizzy. But he didn’t mean love like love, right? He meant love like admire or respect or appreciate. “If we hadn’t interrupted them earlier, they might have already given in to each other and then they wouldn’t be arguing right now.”
“Perhaps.” Christian shrugged. “Or perhaps they’d have torn each other to pieces.”
Emily didn’t like the sound of that, especially since one of her duties as BKI’s office manager was to keep the peace among a bunch of big men with big personalities and even bigger egos.
“Fine,” she huffed. “Let’s go end the war before it turns deadly.”
“Jolly good.” Christian shoved up from the bed, dragging her with him. “And while you’re ending the war, I’ll see if either of them has a condom.”
Emily had been in the process of wiggling into her panties, but that stopped her. She frowned up at him. “I told you it’s too embarrassing. We’ll have to wait until—”
“It won’t be embarrassing if they haven’t a clue,” he cut in.
“Huh?” She began searching for her bra. “What’s that supposed to mean? How could they not know?”
“I’m going to nick their wallets while you’re distracting them and see if either of them is carrying what we need.”
After donning her bra, she planted her hands on her hips. “You mean, like, pickpocket them?”
It was too dark to be sure, but she thought she saw him wiggle his eyebrows. “Angel isn’t the only one of us with questionable skills.”
“Hmm.” She pursed her lips. “Learned in SAS training or as a child?”
“You heard that bit about me having gotten caught filching bread and HP Sauce from the corner store, yeah? So, what do you think?”
“Right.” She chuckled. “You and me and our misspent youths. We make quite the couple, don’t we?”
She realized what she’d said when Christian didn’t respond, simply stood there in nothing but his jeans, pegging her with a hard, searching stare. They weren’t a couple. They were fuck buddies, coworkers with benefits.
Covering her misstep the best way she knew how, she bent and grabbed her sweatshirt, tugging it over her head and momentarily hiding her face from him. Once she’d brushed her hair back, she was relieved to see he was in the process of pulling on his sweater.
Careful, Em, ol’ girl, she silently coached herself. You can’t say things like that, not when this thing the two of you have going is supposed to be casual.
Trouble was…it didn’t feel casual. In fact, it felt enormous, overwhelming. Altogether terrifying.
Chapter 19
Back when Christian was twelve years old, he would have asked his Magic 8 Ball—one of the only decent Christmas presents he remembered receiving after his father died—if his plan was working. If having gotten Emily to share her body with him was bringing her closer to sharing her heart. He liked to think the answer that would have appeared in that small, round window was: Outlook good.
After all, she’d called them a couple, hadn’t she? That alone was reason to hope.
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw little of her in the darkness of the hallway, only the pale glow of her skin and the whites of her eyes when she looked up at him.
“What?” her quirked brow asked. “Why’d you stop walking?”
Because I can’t not look at you for more than ten seconds, he could have told her. Because I want to kiss you so badly my heart hurts. Because I’m regretting leaving that bed for fear something might happen to make you hesitate to get back in it. All were true. And all revealed too much of what he felt for her. Instead, he went with, “I smell peanut butter.”
“That would be me.” A deep, raspy voice sounded from somewhere up ahead.
Emily squeaked and was suddenly glued to Christian’s side. He fought a satisfied smile as he put an arm around her.
“Angel?” He squinted into the darkness. Unlike in the bedroom, there was no night-light in the hall to battle the gloom. “Is that you?”
“None other,” Angel garbled, his mouth full of something.
As if on cue, Emily’s stomach let loose with a completely unladylike grumble. “You brought food?” There was a hint of desperation in her voice.
Considering how thin Emily was, one would think she survived on lettuce and bean sprouts alone. But the truth was that the woman ate. She had to, considering most days she ran around the BKI shop like the Energizer Bunny, filling orders, checking mission stats, making sure their whole world operated like a well-oiled machine.
“I was able to appropriate the makings for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches from the farmer’s cupboard,” Angel said, still chewing.
“Oh, gimme, gimme, gimme.” Emily raced past Christian toward the closed doors to the library.
Christian’s eyes had adjusted to the inky darkness. He could see Angel was reclined in a spindly-legged chair beside the doors, a sandwich in one hand, two jars and a loaf of bread sitting on a small table next to him.
“I thought you were going to stop Ace and Rusty from killing each other,” Christian said, following her down the hall.
“That can wait. First, food.”
Christian chuckled when she grabbed the plastic knife shoved into the open jar of peanut butter and began slathering a healthy portion onto a slice of bread.
“Besides,” Angel said, pushing up from the chair and cracking open the doors to the library to peer inside, “The yelling has stopped.”
“What arth ay doin’ now?” Emily asked around a mouthful of sandwich.
“Standing and staring at each other.”
Christian took the opportunity to swipe Angel’s wallet from his back pocket by stumbling into him. “Sorry,” he apologized, glaring down at the rug beneath his bare feet. “I keep tripping over all these bloody carpets.”
Angel eyed him curiously before turning back to the crack in the door.
Christian grinned and wiggled Angel’s wallet in front of Emily’s nose. Her eyes grew huge and she choked, forcing Angel to turn and helpfully pound her on the back.
Christian quickly swung away from them, opened Angel’s wallet, found a ridiculous number of euros and British pounds inside, no ID, and… Aha! One condom—package slightly wrinkled but nonetheless whole. He slipped the glorious bugger into his pocket before turning back.
Emily waved Angel off with a scowl on her face. “You’re not helping,” she wheezed. “You’re lodging the peanut butter farther down my windpipe.”
“Apologies.” Angel returned to the library door. He’d barely fit his eye to the crack when he hissed, “Oh shit!” and jumped backward.
Christian acted like he couldn’t get out of the way fast enough, allowing Angel to plow into him, and giving himself the chance to replace the man’s wallet.
“What the hell?” he sputtered, acting affronted. “You nearly sent me toppling over the railing.”
The staircase terminated in front of the library doors in an intricate set of walnut newel posts and hand-turned balusters.
“Ace is coming.” Angel quickly retook his place in the chair, but not before touching his back pocket and narrowing his eyes at Christian.
Christian made sure his expression was innocent as he leaned back against the banister and nodded. “Right, then. Everyone act casual and—”
Ace burst through the library door and came to a screeching halt when he saw them gathered ’round. “Oh, great,” he muttered, scowling. “Nothing I like better than a bunch of eavesdroppers.”
“We weren’t eavesdropping,” Emily assured him, shoving her partially eaten sandwich in his face. “We were enjoying dinner. Here. Eat. You’ll feel better.”
Ace hesitated all of a split second before snatching the sandwich and taking a huge bite. “Thank you,” he said around a mouthful. Then, “I’m going to bed, and I don’t want anyone to disturb me until it’s time to leave this godforsaken island.”
The three of them watched Ace stomp down the hall and disappear into one of the bedrooms. They all winced when the door slammed with a bang loud enough to make the paintings on the walls jump on their hooks.
Emily blew out a huge breath, then shrugged and reached for the knife and two more slices of bread. Angel stared after Ace, a considering frown on his face. And Christian took advantage of Ace’s segue.
“Speaking of getting off this godforsaken island,” he said, “any luck finding a vehicle we can nick tomorrow? You were gone quite a long time.”
“First of all, we will appropriate a vehicle,” Angel corrected.
“Sure.” Christian rolled his eyes. Angel’s refusal to admit that he was a dab hand at stealing things was rather odd, and Christian couldn’t help but wonder if there was a story buried somewhere in there.
“Second of all, I was gone so long because I had to wait for the farmer and his wife to go to bed before sneaking into the kitchen to go through their cupboards.”
“Indeed.” Christian nodded. “Thanks for that, by the way. Emily was getting rather peckish. I don’t know how much longer she would have lasted. Her stomach was grumbling so loudly it woke me from a dead sleep.”
Angel eyed Emily. “It always surprises me,” he mused, “how such a delicate-looking woman can be so loud.”
Emily punched Angel in the arm, then turned and gave Christian a good one too.
“Ow!” He rubbed his abused flesh, grinning delightedly.
“As for a vehicle for tomorrow,” Angel said, “the farmer and his wife have two cars, both sedans with back seats. So no more Emily on your lap.”
“Oh, bad luck, that.” Christian blew Emily a kiss, causing her to frown. She couldn’t hold the expression for long. Soon, it melted into a secret smile that went right to his stomach and flirted rather shamelessly.
Burning a hole in his bloody pocket…that’s what the condom was doing. He would have liked nothing better than to drag Emily back to the bedroom and put the thing to use, but she was in the midst of ravenously devouring her new sandwich. Not to mention there was something he needed to take care of…
“Emily,” he said, “mind making me a sandwich while I throw something in the wash?”
“Sure,” she said around a mouthful. “But only this once.”
He frowned.
“Just ’cause we’re doin’ it don’t mean I’m sud
denly at your beck and call, ready and willing to do your bidding.” Oh, how he loved it when her ’hood-girl grammar made an appearance.
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, I know you’re only willing to be at my beck and call and do my bidding when I’ve got you tied up in bed.”
“Christian!” she cried at the same time Angel said, “That was an over-share.”
Chuckling, Christian turned back toward the mural room. It was only after he’d gone a few steps that he realized, for the first time in a long time, he was happy.
What a ruddy frightening prospect.
* * *
“Christian?” Emily whispered from the bottom of the stairs, blinking against the stygian gloom. Another night-light was plugged into an outlet by the desk in the entryway, but the dark wooden paneling on the walls seemed to absorb what little glow it offered. “Did you get lost?”
It had been nearly twenty minutes since Christian had emerged from the yellow bedroom, the quilt bunched in his arm. With nothing more than a wiggle of his eyebrows, he’d sailed by the library doors—where she, Angel, and Rusty had been enjoying their PB&Js—and headed downstairs, having left her to blanch and turn to the two men eyeing her curiously.
“Uhhh, we just need to…um…”
Rusty had held up a hand, saying, “No explanation necessary, dollface,” and she’d breathed a sigh of relief.
First Christian spouted off about her being at his beck and call and doing his bidding when he had her tied up in bed; then he had to go and parade their dirty laundry—literally—for the world to see? Had the man no shame?
Apparently not. Or maybe he was like a dog, and the whole charade had been his idea of peeing on her and marking his territory so the other two men knew she was his.
Pretty ridiculous, considering one of the men was gay and had zero interest in her sexually. And the other? Jamin “Angel” Agassi? Well, the truth was, Emily had a hard time imagining Angel letting his guard down long enough to get, you know, naked. In fact, she’d often wondered if he showered fully clothed and strapped with weapons. So, yeah, no need for Christian’s metaphorical leg hike.
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