Chapter 3
“Are you sure about this, sir?”
Was Clint sure he wanted to get the hell out of Dodge? “Yes.”
The valet fidgeted in front of the truck door. “You haven’t been in there very long and you seem a little, uh—”
Though Clint tried to stand patiently and wait until the valet moved, he found himself suddenly tipping sideways. But only his top half. He managed to catch himself by grabbing onto the side of the truck, which left him pressed against the valet.
“Sorry about that,” Clint slurred.
The valet whimpered.
“Did I hurt you?” Clint pushed himself back to a standing position. He gripped the side of the truck bed to help him stay stabilized.
“No,” the valet croaked. “I’m fine.”
“Great.” Clint looked at him meaningfully. When he didn’t move, Clint added, “So, I need to go.”
Still nothing from the valet.
“And you’re blocking the door.”
“You’re really muscular.”
Clint stared.
“I mean hot,” the valet said in a panic, his neck turning red. “Drunk!” he shouted. “I mean you’re drunk.”
“I’m fine,” Clint assured him as he patted his shoulder. He was aiming for the shoulder, anyway. He made actual contact with his chest.
The red moved up the valet’s face all the way to the tips of his ears and he started hyperventilating.
“You look like you’re going to be sick,” Clint pointed out.
“I… I… I…” The guy stopped, took in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and then blew it out. “Please, sir. You’re not in any condition to drive and I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
Though his natural inclination was to get angry about anyone telling him what to do, Clint took a mental count of how much he’d had to drink in a short period of time and realized the guy was probably right.
“I need to get out of here,” he said, more to himself than the valet. “And it’s not like there are any taxi companies in Hawthorne.”
“Oh.” The valet gulped and looked up at Clint from underneath his lashes. “Things have slowed down with all the party arrivals. Maybe I can take you home and, uh, stay for a little bit.” He coughed. “Just to make sure you’re okay.”
Clint must have been drunker than he realized, because the offer wasn’t adding up.
“I’ll take him home.” Whiskey and gravel.
“Mister Deputy Mayor,” Clint said as he turned to the side and found himself face to face with Hawk Black. “It’s good to see you.” He would have offered to shake the man’s hand, or suck his dick, but if he let go of the truck, chances were high he’d fall.
“Call me Hawk,” the deputy mayor said to Clint and then he turned toward the valet and said, “I’ll take his keys.”
“Yes, sir.” With a disappointed sigh, the guy handed them over, looked at Clint sadly, and then shuffled away.
“I think he might be drunk or something,” Clint whispered. At least he hoped it was a whisper. His ears were ringing so it was hard to be certain.
“Somebody sure is.” Hawk smiled at Clint fondly as he circled his arm around Clint’s waist. “Let’s get you in the car.”
“I can walk.”
Hawk looked him over appraisingly. “Doubtful.” He started walking, taking Clint with him. “Besides, this gives me a chance to feel all those muscles that kid was talking about.”
“What kid?” Clint asked in confusion.
“The valet.” Hawk shook his head. “Damn, you’re toasted if you didn’t notice him drooling over you.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.” Hawk opened the passenger door, moved his palm up Clint’s back to his nape, and massaged him gently. “I’ve waited long enough. He’s out of luck.”
“Huh?”
Dipping his face forward until his breath blew across Clint’s cheek, Hawk rasped, “Get in.”
A full-body tremor made its way through Clint and he lost the power of speech. Not that he’d been speaking so much as grunting.
“Come on, baby.” Hawk nudged him into the car. “Time to go.”
Had Hawk just called him “baby”?
“Huh?”
“Buckle up,” Hawk said with a smirk. He shut the door, jogged around the front of the truck, and got into the driver’s seat.
Clint could do nothing but sit and stare.
After staring back for a couple of seconds, Hawk said, “You need to put on your seatbelt.” He reached across Clint, snatched the seatbelt, and slowly pulled it across Clint’s chest. Every part of that process involved Hawk’s shoulders and chest rubbing against Clint’s nipples and Hawk’s scent permeating his being. “Safety first,” he said hoarsely as he clipped the buckle into place.
If he’d been a little less drunk, Clint was pretty sure he would have come in his pants. As it was, he had to tip his head against the seatback and close his eyes so he could calm his libido. There was no avoiding hard-ons in Hawk’s presence. With a groan, he reached between his legs and adjusted himself, hoping Hawk didn’t notice, or that if he did, he didn’t mind.
“You left the party early.”
Just the man’s voice was enough to make Clint’s cock throb. In his entire life, he’d never reacted to another person like he did to Hawk Black. Of course, he’d never met anyone as ruggedly handsome, powerfully confident, and quietly intelligent.
“As opposed to loudly intelligent?”
“Huh?” How could Hawk know what he’d been thinking?
“Because you’re thinking out loud.” Hawk grinned. “I’m glad you like how I look. That’ll make this much easier.”
“I didn’t…” Clint stopped himself mid-denial because, first off, he had very little chance of convincing Hawk he hadn’t meant what he’d said and second, anybody with eyes would come to the same conclusion. “What do you mean this? What’s the this that’ll be easier?”
“Making you realize you need to stop playing around with silly boys and start getting serious with a real man.” Hawk turned the key and shifted the truck into drive.
Though he wasn’t completely certain due to the veil of alcohol clouding his brain, Clint was pretty sure he was being insulted.
“I’m not silly,” he said defensively.
“I agree.” Hawk flicked his gaze over and dragged it down Clint’s body. “There’s nothing silly about you.”
“But you said—”
“I was talking about Ewan Griffin.” Hawk flared his nostrils and clenched his jaw. “Why you wasted all that time with that limp dick, I’ll never know. He’d wouldn’t come close to being good enough for you on his best day, and from what I can tell, he has only bad days.”
Clint’s jaw dropped and he stared at Hawk in surprise.
“How’d you know?” he eventually asked.
“That Ewan’s a spineless ass who isn’t worth your time?”
“No.” Clint shook his head. Ewan’s abrasive personality was hard to miss so he wasn’t surprised that Hawk didn’t like him. “That we were—” He stopped mid-sentence. Hawk couldn’t know about his relationship with Ewan so he probably meant something else and Clint was misunderstanding.
“That the two of you were fucking?” Hawk said.
Okay, so Hawk did know.
“Damn but you’re cute.”
“Guys my size aren’t cute,” Clint protested.
“Those red cheeks and dimples say different.”
“It’s too dark to see my cheeks.” But his face did feel hot.
“I see you just fine, Clint.”
There was a world of meaning behind that drawl but try as he might, Clint couldn’t figure out what it was. He was usually much sharper than this.
“I drank too much,” he muttered.
“You’re a cute drunk.”
“Again with the cute.” Clint snorted and shook his head. “I’m almost your size.”
Slowly turning his head to look at Clint, Hawk arched one eyebrow and said, “I’ve got a couple of inches on you.”
That time, the meaning behind the words was clear. Clint was drunk, not dead and he couldn’t miss the interest in Hawk’s appraisal. Or at least that was what he hoped. Either way, he was going with it.
“Doubtful.” Clint pawed at his groin. “I have a great dick.”
“I’m sure you do, baby.” Hawk licked his lips, making Clint whimper. “And I’ve been waiting a long time to get a look at it.”
So he was right about Hawk’s meaning, but he was completely outmatched by the man in the flirting department. Well, as long as the night ended with the two of them naked, he supposed they’d both be winners.
“Are you gay?” he asked, needing to know what he was walking into. Or driving into. Or, more accurately, being driven into. What the hell were they talking about?
“I just told you I want to play with your cock.” Hawk arched his eyebrows, but didn’t take his gaze off the road. “Doesn’t that answer your question?”
“You said look, not play.” Clint adjusted himself in his jeans, his growing erection not comfortable in the constrained space. “And you could be bi.” Or he could be so ashamed and scared that he told everyone he was straight, including the guy he was fucking.
“I’m gay,” Hawk said, his voice firm, unapologetic, and the furthest thing in the world from scared or ashamed. “And I’m going to look at your cock while I play with you.” He groaned and, with one hand still on the wheel, reached into his lap and rubbed the heel of his hand against the prominent bulge in his slacks. “Or maybe I should start with your ass.” He gulped. “God damn, but do you have an ass made for jeans.”
What he had was the world’s most painful erection.
“Who said I’ll let you do any of that?” Clint asked, needing to push back a little even though they both knew he was so eager for it, he’d drop trou on the side of the road if Hawk pulled over. Normally he wasn’t this big of a slut, but a man didn’t get more than one chance to sample something as delicious as the deputy mayor and damned if Clint was going to turn down the opportunity of a lifetime.
“I’m very persuasive.”
The only persuading Clint would need to go to bed with Hawk was an invitation. And even that was negotiable.
“We’re here.” Hawk put the truck in Park and turned it off. The engine continued rattling. “This truck’s seen better days.”
“Serves its purpose. I don’t need fancy.” Clint squinted out the windshield. The sun had set completely and there wasn’t much moonlight. “Where are we?”
“I think you proved that by wearing jeans and boots to that party.” Hawk looked him over and narrowed his gaze. “Or were you trying to get your ex’s attention?”
“Nah. I already did that for longer than I should have,” Clint confessed. “I came to the party to get a beer ’cause my refrigerator broke.”
“They didn’t have beer.”
“I know.” Clint shook his head. “I guess beer’s not good enough.” He twisted sideways and looked at Hawk. “What the fuck’s wrong with beer, huh?”
“Not a thing. Give me a steak hot off the grill, a beer cold from the fridge, and a guy to share ’em with and I’m happy.”
He’d just described Clint’s perfect evening, which begged the question…
“Why were you at that party tonight, man?” Maybe hob-knobbing with the big names in town was part of Hawk’s job, but if that was true, he would have had to stay longer. “And why’d you leave? From the look of things, it was just getting started.” Not that Clint had looked at anything except the bottom of a glass and, for a few minutes, Ewan’s angry face.
“Same answer for both questions,” Hawk said as he pocketed the keys. “I wanted to spend time with you.”
“Huh?” Clint was back to one-word answers.
“You heard me.” Hawk grinned. “It’s warmer inside. Let’s go.”
Remembering his earlier question, Clint leaned forward and looked from side to side.
“Where are we?”
“Home.”
“No.” Clint shook his head. “I live in one of those four-plexes off Main. We’re set back a ways to the left of the Nowhere Diner.” He dragged his hand through his hair. “Or at least I live there for now. Got to get out in two weeks. Landlord’s selling the place.”
“Kismet.”
“Huh?” Clint said before he could stop himself. If he didn’t start forming complete sentences, or at least real words, he was going to kick his own ass.
“It’s cold and I need to get some coffee and food into you.” Hawk pulled the door handle and stepped out of the truck. “Let’s go inside.”
Clint opened his door and tried to get out, but couldn’t.
“Take off your belt.”
Looking from Hawk’s face, which was suddenly in his doorway, down to his own belt buckle, and then to Hawk’s face again, Clint said, “We’re doing it out here?”
“Your seatbelt.” Hawk barked out a laugh as he stepped forward and reached around Clint. “Besides, I’m still in the wooing-you stage. I figure that means I ought to do you in a bed a few times before I attack you in the front seat of the truck.”
“Nothing wrong with screwing in a truck, man.”
In fact, if Hawk didn’t stop rubbing his shoulder blade against Clint’s erection, he’d be coming in the truck.
“Nope, nothing wrong with that at all.” Hawk finally straightened. “When the weather warms up, we can throw some blankets in the back and fuck under the stars.”
It was February. The weather wasn’t going to warm up that night. Was Hawk talking about getting together again? The alcohol in Clint’s veins and the hard-on in his pants were making it nearly impossible for him to think clearly.
“I don’t understand.”
“You will.” Hawk took his hand and waited for him to climb out of the truck.
“I can walk,” Clint said, unsure how he felt about the gesture.
On the one hand, he’d always prided himself on his strength and self-sufficiency. He’d enlisted in the army right out of high school and built his own life, never needing anyone’s help. But on the other hand, there was something undeniably enticing about having someone to lean on.
“Like I said before, I like touching you.” Hawk yanked on his arm. “Quit being stubborn and get your fine ass out of that ugly truck and into my house so I can play with it.”
Laughing, Clint tightened his grip on Hawk’s hand and hopped out of the truck.
“I thought you wanted to play with my dick,” he said as he cupped his crotch.
“I said I want your ass too.” Hawk tugged him forward until their noses touched. From this close, his blue eyes twinkled as brightly as the stars. “I want it all,” he whispered. “I want every last part of you.”