by Mia Watts
“Monty!” Hank called to him.
Monty didn’t answer. Hank drew closer, climbing over the nearest boulder. He dropped a hand on Monty’s shoulder. Monty reacted, swinging out an arm that connected perfectly. Hank toppled to the side, barely managing to push out of the way of the stony shoreline, only to dump himself into the water.
Hank huffed, blowing water from his lips as he wiped a hand over his eyes. They stung with saltwater. He peered at Monty from his position in the water.
“You’re scaring the fish,” Monty snapped, popping a bud from his hear as he spoke.
“Felt like making a sandcastle.” Hank lifted a palm full of loose brown sand from under the water.
“Go home.”
“They don’t have quality sand in D.C.,” Hank informed him. “Just that sissy stuff from the home gardening center.”
“Did you bring your shutterbugs with you again?”
“Naw. They were a little overworked. I told them to take some time off.”
“How considerate of you,” Monty replied.
“I figured I owed you after last time,” Hank said, tiptoeing into the subject he knew he needed to address but felt sick about bringing up.
Monty reeled in his line as though he had all the time in the world. He cast it off again. Hank waited through it, dragging himself from the water and taking a seat on a rock near Monty.
Soaked to the bone, Hank unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off his body. Then he took off each shoe and sock. He considered removing his pants, but he needed to know where things stood with the sexy agent before he completely stripped down as literally as he was about to emotionally.
“What do you want, Junior?”
“You.”
Monty snorted. “What’s wrong? Did the White House kill the story already?”
“They’ve handled it.”
Monty made a point of looking around. “Where are they?”
“Who?”
“Your camera hounds,” Monty said.
“I left them in D.C.”
Monty nodded, seeming to accept that as an actual answer even though they both knew Monty had been picking a fight. Monty shifted on his rock. “Did you sort things with your dad?”
Hank lifted a shoulder. “As good as can be expected. We’re working on it, and that’s a start.”
“Good.”
Hank licked his lips, tasting salt. He probably looked pretty horrible. Like a drenched rat. With drippy gel. “I’d like to get things sorted with you, too.”
“You don’t owe me anything. I had a job. I did my job. We had fun. I got burned.” Monty reeled in and hooked his line to the rod. He stood and headed toward the cabin.
Hank followed after checking to see that the catch line was empty. How long had Monty been out there, casting and reeling? Thinking back, he realized he hadn’t seen Monty bait the hook, and Hank frowned.
“You cleaned my place?” Monty snarled when Hank walked in.
“Yeah.”
“So you’ve been here for a while?”
“About an hour before I said hello,” Hank admitted.
Monty glowered. “I didn’t need you to clean up my shit.”
“I wanted to.” Hank shrugged. “Felt like the least I could do to help out.”
Monty stalked to him. Hank backed up until his ass hit the back of the only couch. He had to bend back as Monty got in his face.
“What else do you have in store for me, Junior? A tell-all book? Sex inside the White House? How to Fuck a Secret Agent?”
“I’m sorry,” Hank snapped. “I’m sorry,” he said, catching himself and making his tone a little gentler the second time around.
Monty slipped an arm around Hank’s waist. “I hate that I’ve missed you.”
His warm lips covered Hank’s firmly, almost painfully punishing. Hank wrapped his arms around Monty’s shoulders, letting the other man keep his balance for him. When Monty stood, still holding Hank, they broke the kiss, and Hank couldn’t help but read the heavy conflict in the agent’s eyes.
“You missed me?” Hank reminded him hopefully.
“This is what’s known as a toxic relationship. You aren’t good for me.”
Hank felt his lips widen in a smile. “We’re in a relationship?”
Monty suddenly let him go and paced back to the kitchen. He snagged a beer from the fridge, twisted off the cap and guzzled, keeping an eye on Hank.
Hope sputtered. Monty didn’t want to want him. That much was true. What was also true? Regardless of what he wanted to feel, Monty did want him. It was all in how you spun it.
“I looked for you after you left Dad’s.”
“I was put on leave, effective immediately,” Monty answered when he finally lowered the amber bottle.
Hank approached casually. “I got your phone number and address from them, with Dad’s support, and tried to reach you.”
“I know.”
“You never picked up or answered the door,” Hank continued.
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Because nothing you say changes what happened or what could happen between us.” Monty placed the bottle, still half full on the countertop. He leaned on the surface, his eyes tracking Hank as if he were a feral creature about to pounce. Monty’s gaze raked over Hank’s bare chest, down his damp jeans to his bare feet and back up again. That gaze warmed Hank better than any summer sun.
“You should change,” Monty suggested.
Hank grinned. He unzipped his pants and pulled the clinging heavy fabric off his legs. Now, in only his boxer briefs, he knew the wet material did nothing to disguise Monty’s effect on him. The more he looked, the more Hank’s cock filled and pushed at the white cotton.
“God.” Monty choked on the word.
“What can I say? Love makes me horny.”
“Love? That’s not love. That’s lust. Love doesn’t do to someone what you did.”
Hank frowned. “Okay. I deserved that.”
“And so much more.”
Making a sudden choice to change tactics, Hank grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around his hips. He didn’t want there to be any confusion from Monty that Hank knew what he was talking about.
“What’s that about?” Monty asked, gesturing to the blanket.
“I want you to hear my words, not see what my body is up to.”
“You can learn a lot from a person’s body language,” Monty countered.
“Sure, but in this case, you already know you turn me on. What you don’t know, or are choosing not to hear, is that I’m in love with you.”
Monty’s brows rose. “That’s a bit sudden.”
“Not really. You’ve been in my dad’s service for years. You’ve always been there. Despite what my relationship is with my father, I knew you were dependable and protective.” Hank walked back to the place he’d chucked his clothes, picked up the wet pants and draped them over the kitchen sink. It gave his hands something to do and got him into the kitchen with Monty. He kept talking as he did so. “And you were right.”
Monty had turned and now leaned back on the counter so he was facing Hank at the sink. “Really?”
“Love was a weakness. I loved Dad, and he left us when we needed it most. I loved Mom, and she died. She loved Dad, and he wasn’t there. I guess you could say I thought I’d learned my lesson pretty well. I thought that if I let another person get close, they’d hurt me too.”
Monty tried not to look as interested as he felt, as the fluttering in his belly insisted he was. Hank seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say. His hands trembled a little as they draped the jeans. His eyes drifted down and bravely back up as he spoke, and there was a resolution about his posture that told Monty better than words that Hank not only believed what he was saying but was terrified of saying it.
Hank licked his lips. The lips Monty had just kissed, and Monty nearly groaned for the sudden lust to taste those lips again. Swe
et, salty and soft. Hank’s kisses were always intoxicating, but Hank’s kisses professing love were almost too good to be true.
Monty kept his silence, sensing Hank needed to speak. More than that, Monty needed to know what Hank meant.
“I didn’t have boyfriends. Looking back, I think it had to do with the same issue. Don’t let people in. They hurt you. I didn’t realize how much you’d already gotten to me before you were ever assigned to watch me that week.”
“I don’t understand.”
Hank ran his hands through his hair. Monty tried not to smile as every hair stood up on end. Hank’s face was a study of concentration, and when he pressed his lips together, his dimples deepened and set off another riot of hunger in Monty’s gut that had nothing to do with food.
“The two weeks I tried to find you and thought you were still in D.C., I had a lot of time to remember.”
Monty folded his arms across his chest. “What did you remember?”
“You were there. You were always there.”
“Hank, that’s my job,” Monty informed him dryly.
“Yeah, but the Secret Service doesn’t hire guys who aren’t dependable, who can’t be trusted and who wouldn’t willingly give their lives. It takes a certain kind of person.”
“You love me for my job?” Monty asked incredulously.
“No! I mean, that was the initial thought I had. That as a character reference, it’s pretty huge. That realization gave me the courage to look at other things, like how you were at the funeral. Most of the agents were solemn, sure, but you were genuinely affected. I saw the look on your face. I saw you take off your boutonniere and drop it on the casket when Dad was ready to go. I saw you support her elbow, the last few times she stood with Dad on the podium. I remember the shoulder squeeze you gave me at the hospital when he came to see her.”
“I respect your family.”
“I know. But you know what else I remember?”
“Do tell.”
“The couple times I pulled some shit on Dad and had to go to his office for a chat. I remember the way you had to hide your smile at some of the antics, even if they weren’t wise choices. I also remember that my detail changed after I told Dad that the four men he had on me were suffocating me.”
“I recommended it, but look how well that turned out.”
“Sorry,” Hank said and actually looked apologetic. “I didn’t do you any favors by slipping them almost immediately.”
“No, you didn’t. But they also should have been paying better attention. I reduced the number but increased the skill of the two on your detail.”
“I was determined,” Hank clarified.
“Like you are now?”
Hank sighed. “I knew you weren’t going to make this easy. I didn’t think you were going to skin my every intention.”
“You were doing fine,” Monty cautiously admitted. “Keep going.”
Hank’s smile was one of relief. “Good, because for a minute there, I was starting to doubt that anything I said mattered.”
“It might matter.”
Hank moved to stand in front of Monty. Monty liked the way he moved. His lean, sinewy body was graceful and sultry. It didn’t take much to cross the tiny space that had been etched out as a kitchenette.
“I want it to matter,” Hank said quietly. “A lot. Because in all that remembering, I also relived every second of our time together, in my apartment and here. Everything you were and are was consistent. I could trust it. I did trust it.”
“Until you screwed me over.”
“I know it doesn’t help to hear it, but your consistency helped me screw you over. I knew what to expect from you even as I was selfishly planning my way out. And once I’d set it into motion—once it all happened—I realized what an asshole I’d been.”
“Mm.”
“Can you forgive me?”
The truth was he’d forgiven Hank the moment he’d blinked up at him with wet spiky lashes as he’d sat in two feet of seawater. He loved Hank more than he’d thought. He’d known he cared for the younger man, but until those gray eyes had found his and those lips had quirked in a self-depreciating grin, Monty hadn’t realized how much Hank had come to mean to him. And now admitting it?
Monty blew out a breath. “I forgive you. I let my own guard down, and that’s harder for me to forgive.”
“I hope you never put your guard up with me again,” Hank said.
God, Monty liked the sound of that. To be allowed to be himself with the man who made him dream of a life together?
“I think the forgetting is what will take time,” Monty answered the unissued question.
“I have the time to give.”
“Do you?” Monty tugged on the blanket, dropping it to the floor. He held Hank’s hips and pulled him forward until their bodies touched.
“I’m sorry I was an asshole. We have something here.”
“What about your trust issues and the whole love-is-the-devil thing?” Monty asked.
“I’m not afraid to let you in.”
“What if I hurt you?”
“Are you planning to?” Hank asked nervously.
“No, but it happens. Things won’t always be perfect, but we can work them out together. You have to try, though. None of this bridge-burning shit you like to pull.”
“I’m all in, if you’ve got the balls to try,” Hank teased, though his eyes said he was still uncertain.
“I’ve got the balls,” Monty told him. “Thank God, you’re cocky enough to come back here and think you’ve got it all figured out.”
“I do have it figured out. You’re going to tell me you love me. Then we’re going to take those rope knots off the wall and put them to better use on one of those Murphy beds.”
“We are, are we?” Monty challenged, smiling.
“Tie me up and do whatever you want. I trust you.”
The deeper meaning in those last three words smoothed like a balm over the vestiges of hurt Monty had been feeling. Hank’s body language was in agreement with his words. Hank did trust him.
“Tell me you love me too, because I’m nervous enough to puke right now,” Hank said.
Monty kissed him, savoring the traces of saltwater on the other man’s lips. Hank’s mouth opened tentatively. When Monty pushed in, Hank moaned and Monty shook with the need to hold him closer and never let him go. Gathering his scattered senses, Monty ended the kiss.
“I love you. I’m not quite sure it’s a wise idea yet, but I love you.”
Hank grinned widely. “I love you back.”
“Wait a minute. You already said you loved me.”
“Yeah,” Hank agreed.
“So you can’t love me back. Loving me back implies I said it first.”
“You did,” Hank told him calmly.
“I did not.”
“You did. That day on the dock—the day of doom—I knew you loved me. No man has made love to my cock like that, ever. That was more than getting off. You said it yourself, actions speak louder than words or something like that.”
“Nope. I never said the words.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Yeah, I do have to. You gave in first,” Monty insisted.
“You did.” Hank laughed suddenly. “I suspect we’ll be having this argument until we’re old and gray.”
Monty couldn’t help the smile that split his face. “That long huh?”
“That’s what he said.”
“Shut up and get naked. I have an asshole to fuck,” Monty snapped good-naturedly.
“Only if you promise to teach it a lesson.”
“Repeatedly,” Monty agreed.
“God, yes. And I think it’s only fair that I be forced to suck cock every day for the next several weeks.”
“Only weeks?”
“At least as long as we’re holed up in this cabin,” Hank said, nodding toward the room at large.
“And then what?” Monty asked.
&n
bsp; “Then you’re going to have to decide if you’re ready to move in with me.”
“Why wouldn’t you move in with me?” Monty pressed.
“Have you seen where you live?” Hank scoffed. “I’ve seen better living arrangements from college students. You don’t get paid nearly enough.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Monty murmured, dropping a line of kisses on Hank’s shoulder. “It has its perks.”
Hank’s hands rubbed over Monty’s chest, then down, down, into Monty’s pants where he wrapped a possessive hand around Monty’s cock.
“Point taken. Literally. Now, can we fuck? I think I have some dire lessons to learn about treating you badly. I’m looking forward to the rope burns.”
Monty felt like he’d been punched in the gut with lust. Hank, sprawled naked and tied up with rope, begging for Monty’s cock? Damn, he loved this man.
About the Author
Mia makes her home in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where she divides her time between a job and spying on people. Mia enjoys long walks in Como Park, daisies, dancing in the snow…(Delete prior sentence, meant for personal ad)...
Mr. Perfect may apply in person for a thorough evaluation and trial. All others will be towed.
Want to read more Handcuffs and Lace?
Also Available from Resplendence Publishing:
Balls and Chain by Mia Watts
Sam Bahlson doesn’t know what the hell is going on. The FBI storm his workplace, take him into custody, and then tell him he’s the target of a notorious hitman. Since he’s pretty low maintenance and doesn’t take a lot of risks, he finds it hard to believe. Yet when Agent Jude Cheney whisks him off to protective custody, it’s bullet grazing chase to the finish line.
When Sam discovers that Jude’s hot for him, he’s determined to make protective custody as enjoyable as possible. The bad guys keep coming, and so does Jude. Will they nab the man behind the hit in time, or is Sam’s life going to end at gun point?
The Policeman’s Balls by Mia Watts
Brian McCray can’t believe his bad luck in getting caught by the police for breaking into his own home—until he sees the cop in question. Now all he wants to do is catch the sexy protector of the peace and give him some piece…of ass.