The warm water splashed across his fingertips, and he used the wet cloth to clean himself. He thought about the kiss they shared as he’d moved so perfectly in and out of Mitch’s body. He smiled and closed his eyes, remembering the way Mitch gasped his name. God, he loved to hear that deep sexy voice utter his name.
Cody reached over and grabbed another washcloth, wetting that one, hoping he hadn’t taken too long. Mitch would make a mess if he turned over. He wrung out the cloth and went back out into the bedroom. Mitch hadn’t moved. He was passed out and snoring solidly now. That made him smile.
The cloth was still warm when he wiped across Mitch’s stomach. Mitch jerked forward, almost colliding with Cody’s head. He jumped backward as quickly as he could to avoid the collision. “It’s okay. I’m just cleaning you.”
Mitch looked around the room before focusing back on him. “I fell asleep.”
“I know. I was there.” He smiled and lifted Mitch’s arm to wipe his chest. When he’d finished cleaning Mitch, he turned back to the bathroom, but Mitch’s arms hooked around him.
“Leave it. Let me hold you,” Mitch said, his voice still thick with sleep.
Cody discarded the rag, carefully laying it on his nightstand. He reached over and clicked off the lamp, making the room dark. Mitch pulled Cody down as he reached for the duvet, tugging the cover up over them. “It took me a solid week to sleep right again after you left DC.”
Cody nuzzled the crook of Mitch’s neck. Mitch lay back, bringing Cody in an awkward sprawl across his chest. Finally, after a few minutes, Mitch settled. Apparently this was the way Mitch wanted to sleep. He lifted his arms and ran his fingers through Mitch’s hair. Mitch turned and kissed him.
“You’re perfect,” Mitch mumbled. Cody froze.
Perfect?
Mitch’s hold loosened and the snores were back in full force now. Cody slid to the side and Mitch went with him. That seemed to help with the snoring. Cody laid in the dark, listening to Mitch breathe until sleep finally took him too.
Chapter 40
The Eastfield Pentecostal congregation had already arrived. They were set up across the street from the First United Methodist Church scheduled to hold Derek Sinacola’s memorial service. Bullhorns blared. Large colorful hate signs waved high in the air to make sure everyone attending could see them even though the church was surrounded three deep with supporters. The Sinacola supporters sang the Marine hymn as loud as they possibly could.
Cody and Mitch drove in the family’s processional, as did most of the family’s friends, trying to keep the grieving family from seeing the hate spewing across the street, but it was impossible. The Eastfield congregation knew what they were doing and were there to be seen. As each vehicle turned into the parking lot of the church, louder voices yelled scripture verses as signs where lifted higher in the air. Mitch tried to read out loud the signs as he caught glimpses of them: “Soldiers-Die-God-Laughs, God-Hates-Fags, Thank-God-For-Dead-Soldiers. What the hell is wrong with these people?”
After a while, he turned to look at Cody. Mitch realized, his man was the smart one. He kept his eyes focused forward, seeming to not hear or see a thing.
“I hate this,” Mitch said, completely disgusted.
“It doesn’t matter,” Cody replied.
“It does matter. They can hate me; that’s fine. But why the hell do they take it out on our soldiers?” He really wanted to know that answer. It didn’t make any sense to him. Hell, none of this did. Why did these people spew so much hate? Why were they so vicious in their attacks? But what got to him the most was seeing the little boys and girls that couldn’t have been more than four or five marching beside their parents carrying hate signs. That really bothered him.
“It doesn’t matter,” Cody repeated as he pulled the truck into an open space.
“That’s all you keep saying. I don’t get it.” He turned to Cody and stared at him, refusing to leave the truck till he had his answer.
“It’s the truth. They don’t matter, Mitch. We’re here for the Sinacola family. Nothing they are doing over there changes anything. They suck, and Kreed’s brother died protecting their right to suck,” Cody said, putting the truck in park. “We can’t let them get to us.” Cody turned to him and smiled. “You look handsome in your suit.”
“I don’t know. I’m not really a suit wearer.” Mitch looked down at his clothes and straightened his tie. “How the fuck do you do that? No one else can do that to me. You make me forget my worries and think about you.” He smoothed his hands down his slacks. Stupid protesters forgotten.
Cody chuckled and lowered the rearview mirror, pushing the few pieces of his short blond hair back off his forehead and checking his teeth. “You do look hot.”
“You’re the one who looks fucking hot. You were made to wear clothes like those.” Mitch opened the passenger side door, getting out of the car. Cody was slower to leave as he grabbed some items from his console. Mitch went and stood at the front of the truck. He had a perfect angle to see the haters, and lord, did they hate him. He did something he rarely did anymore—he reached up to check his weapon in his side holster. The familiar feel comforting him in the semi-hostile environment.
Mitch dropped his hands in his pockets and stared at the protestors. He wanted to shoot them the bird, but held himself back out of respect for Kreed and his family. Cody came forward, never looking behind him as though he truly couldn’t care less. Mitch wished he could get there.
“Ready,” Cody said, sticking a hand out, ushering Mitch toward the church. Out of defiance, Mitch grabbed Cody’s hand purposefully and strolled slowly into the house of worship. They walked hand in hand through the mega church filled to capacity, making their way to stand beside the Sinacola family.
“Thank you for being here.” Kreed greeted both of them. Mitch hugged his friend tightly.
“I wouldn’t let you go through this alone. Anything you need, man, I’m here. Now, don’t thank me again. And, Kreed, stop worrying about us.” Mitch released Kreed from the tight embrace. “Concentrate on your family.”
“I know it was hard dealing with those people out there,” Kreed said and stuck a hand out for Cody.
“I don’t pay attention to their ignorance. I’m just sorry your family has to deal with people like that.” Cody replied, shaking Kreed’s hand.
“I would love to shove a few of those signs up their asses,” Mitch mumbled under his breath and dropped his sunglasses in his inner suit pocket.
“Son,” Mrs. Sinacola called out. Kreed took his mother’s hand, and the family started down the long aisle.
“If we were to ever get married, I’d walk you down an aisle like this,” Mitch whispered into Cody’s ear. Cody turned his head toward Mitch and stumbled a little. “Finally! That calm, cool, collected thing you were doing was wearing on my nerves.” Mitch gave a small smile.
“I’m trying to be supportive,” Cody whispered back.
“Well, you’ve accomplished that. Thank you,” Mitch said quietly and stopped to the side of the pew and waited for Cody to be seated first.
Chapter 41
“Drink this,” Cody instructed as the bartender put a Crown & Coke in front of Mitch and cleared away their dinner dishes. They were hours from sitting in a packed church, listening to the community talk about the Sinacola family and the loss they’d endured. Mitch had teared up several times during the service.
It was a good thing they sat on the edge of the pew, close to a box of tissues. Cody had pulled several from the box during the hour long memorial, handing them over to Mitch, then disposing of them when he began to worry the tissue into shreds.
Mitch hadn’t handled much of the service well, and seeing his lover so affected was incredibly emotional to watch. The worst part for everyone concerned was exiting with all that chaos still going on outside. All the hate from the insane church group and love from friends and supporters, but to have it all going on at the same moment, during a time of grievi
ng was really just way too much to handle.
Cody had known going into this weekend that he needed to just be supportive, but he had no idea how much this day would impact him. It would take some time to process all this emotion. He’d never let anyone know how badly that grandstanding from the church had bothered him.
“I like where you live,” Mitch said, reaching for Cody’s hand and pulling him in for a kiss. “Thank you for today.”
“You’ve said that two or three times. I didn’t do anything.” He swiveled on his barstool toward Mitch. They were in the space below his loft, tucked away at the end of the bar, out of the way of everyone.
“Yes, you did. And thank you,” Mitch said again, lifting his glass to salute Cody. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay, like what?” Cody asked.
“Like how hot you look in this suit,” Mitch said, turning on his stool, leaning one arm on the back of the chair and the other on the side of the bar, effectively caging Cody in.
“That’s not a subject I’m comfortable with. Talk about something else.” Cody lifted his glass, letting the few ice cubes at the bottom fill his mouth. Mitch took a drink from his glass and resumed the position.
“How about…I want you to come to DC the next time you get two days off in a row—if I’m still there.”
“We need to plan it. It’ll be too expensive otherwise,” Cody started, but Mitch leaned in and kissed his lips to silence him.
“I’ll pay. You just worry about coming…” Mitch laughed at his words and took another drink, emptying the glass.
“You’re drunk. Let’s see if you still feel this way next week.” Cody smiled at the very tipsy Mitch; he liked him like this. Mitch had long ago abandoned the tie and suit jacket. His sleeves were rolled up, his shirt unbuttoned to almost mid-point on his chest, and he was all smiles. Mitch was definitely a happy drunk.
“I’m gonna feel this way next week. Are you fuckin’ doubting me?” Mitch looked hurt, all except for the half pout, half smile he still wore. “I like you in this suit.” Mitch reached over and flipped the tie he’d made Cody wear through dinner.
Cody looked down at his clothes. “It’s just a black suit…”
Mitch stopped him by leaning in close and whispering, “Take me up stairs, fuck me hard. You know, like you mean it…” Mitch sucked Cody’s earlobe between his lips and ran a hand over his bicep. “I think you got it in you to take control, and I’m drunk enough to let you.”
Mitch moved forward, much closer to his face, so close, in fact, he could feel Mitch’s breath against his lips. “Say yes. And when you’re done, I’ll do you.”
Cody chuckled. “Are you done?” he asked, reaching for his wallet in his back pocket.
“I’m paying,” Mitch said, fumbling to reach for his suit jacket on the back of his stool.
“No, we agreed, you’re here, and I’m paying.”
“No, you’ve put yourself out to help me this weekend,” Mitch insisted, turning to the bartender across the bar. “I’m paying!”
“No, John, I’m paying,” Cody spoke up using his trooper voice, and that had Mitch looking straight at him.
“That’s exactly how I want you to handle me tonight,” Mitch growled as John came up and took the credit card out of Mitch’s hand.
“Let somebody pay for you for once,” the bartender said as he swiped the card in the credit card machine located close to them.
“Yeah.” Mitch grinned at Cody. “I win!”
Cody rolled his eyes and slid off the barstool, grabbing their jackets and Mitch’s tie. He loosened his and reached to undo the first button of his dress shirt as he thought about how best to handle the next few hours. He needed a game plan fast.
~~~
Mitch leaned back against the bar, watching Cody as he spoke to several guys who had just arrived. By their looks, he would probably guess they were law enforcement. Maybe military, who knew for sure, but they seemed to know Cody pretty well. Apparently, they had known him for a few years because there was easy camaraderie between them all.
Another glaring fact, Cody hadn’t introduced him to any of them.
Mitch watched them closely. Cody said he didn’t hide, but he also didn’t flaunt his homosexuality. Today at the church, there had to be police and state troopers there who knew who he was, but he’d walked in and out of the church with his head held high and his hand in Mitch’s.
So why hadn’t he introduced him to his friends?
Mitch tried to push that thought out of his head. That was the great thing about liquor, it helped cloud his mind so he didn’t hold on to anything too long—at least helped him forget until the next day. That was okay too. Cody stood with his back to Mitch. He had a really good view of his cowboy’s ass. He knew that perfect bubble butt intimately and everything else that lay underneath those slacks. He also knew how powerful Cody’s thighs were when they were wrapped around his waist.
“Fuck…” His eyes were glued to Cody’s ass, and he would have missed the questioning blue eyes staring back at him if he hadn’t noticed Cody’s upper body shift slightly. Shit! He must have said the word out loud. He just shook his head and waved them off.
“Don’t mind me. I’ve got a throat thing going on.” He coughed for good measure as if to prove his point. Cody kept watching him as he spoke to the crew.
“I gotta go. I’ll see you guys later.” He heard Cody say as he shook everyone’s hand before taking the few steps back to Mitch’s side. He didn’t reach out for Cody like he wanted to, like he seemed drawn to do every time that hot trooper moved within reach. Instead, he stayed against the bar, forcing his hands inside his slacks pocket to keep them from misbehaving.
“Everything okay?” Cody questioned.
“Absolutely. Buddies of yours?” He smiled, trying not to seem jealous. Damn, being drunk hadn’t taken those thoughts away, and he apparently didn’t like being excluded. Huh.
“I guess. I only remembered one of them from the police academy when I was like nineteen, and I couldn’t remember his name.”
“Ahhh,” Mitch said, extending a hand toward the back of the restaurant where the door was to the elevators.
“What’s that mean?” Cody asked, shooting him a look over his shoulder.
“Nothing. Just, I see,” Mitch answered, staring down at Cody’s ass. “I had a good view from the bar.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Cody asked, stopping at the door, turning back to him.
“Introduce me next time,” he said, stepping closer to Cody. Cody stood his ground and didn’t back away from Mitch. Cody could have opened the door, pushed them through, but he stood right there, chest to chest with Mitch.
“I didn’t remember their names. You saw me looking back at you. I was trying to get you to come introduce yourself so they would say their names,” Cody said. And with that, the tension forming in his chest eased, and he smiled, pushing the door behind Cody open.
“So let me get this straight. Looking over your shoulder means come introduce yourself?” He bumped Cody’s chest until the cowboy stepped backward.
“Yeah. Everyone knows that,” Cody reasoned, taking steps back.
“I didn’t know that,” he replied.
“Of course you know. I was even giving you the help-me look,” Cody stated matter-of-factly.
“What’s the look?” Mitch asked, reaching for the elevator button. Cody’s whole focus was on him. Mitch kept his eyes on Cody’s and laughed out loud when Cody attempted to show him the supposed look. He couldn’t help the outburst when all Cody did was widen his eyes and look constipated.
“That’s the look,” Cody advised, and Mitch backed him against the small wall separating the two elevators.
“Is that so? I’ll just have to remember that next time,” he chuckled and leaned his head in to kiss Cody’s lips. “I just thought you didn’t want them to know.”
Cody took hold of his waist and pushed him back a step. It was
all he was willing to give.
“I told you I didn’t hide,” Cody’s eyes met his.
“I didn’t know.”
“Everyone knows the look,” Cody repeated.
“I didn’t.” The elevator doors slid open, revealing an empty space. When Cody didn’t automatically enter, Mitch reached out and pushed him inside. He was either an incredible actor or sincere. Mitch guessed that straight-forward, good guy Cody had never taken a theater arts class in his life. “But next time, I will,” he promised.
“I wasn’t hiding you,” Cody insisted. Mitch had completely accepted his answer but apparently hadn’t made that clear to Cody. Mitch reached back to push the button to his floor.
“I got it. My bad, cowboy. Kiss me,” he said, moving in closer to Cody as the doors shut. Cody put a hand on his chest, keeping him a step away.
“I wasn’t hiding you. I just didn’t remember them. I was trying to cover that,” Cody explained again, staring him straight in the eyes.
“Good. I don’t wanna be hidden. I wanna be right there beside you.” He moved forward against Cody’s outstretched hand and reached out, turning Cody’s head to the perfect angle. Not taking no for an answer this time, he nipped and licked at Cody’s lips until he opened for him. That whole conversation must have sounded crazy. Mitch also got that he’d been a little diva, but Cody had sealed himself inside Mitch’s heart today. Now all he wanted to do was to protect what was his, and this man in his arms belonged to him.
~~~
Mitch was on him as soon as the elevator doors closed, their mouths fused together in a frenzied kiss. Cody heard the doors open and reached out, grabbing the sides of the elevator seconds before they shut again. He used the leverage of his body to push Mitch backward. It was like moving a concrete wall. Mitch was powerful, glued to him just the way Cody would normally want him, but he needed them in the privacy of his apartment first. Mitch held on as he walked them off the elevator, out into the foyer. Seconds passed before he finally broke free from the kiss.
Full Disclosure (A Nice Guys Novel Book 2) Page 29