7
The part I’m willing to reveal.
Blue balls were painful.
Killian stared at the coffee pot, waiting for it to brew. He had tried wearing himself out with an intense workout, but all that did was leave a lasting ache in his muscles. Getting any sleep was a lost cause with Nick on the other side of that wall, so close yet miles away.
The spark between them was undeniable.
The pull toward him was strong.
Every step he had taken backward, away from Nick, the night before had required every ounce of strength in his body.
I wish I could say yes.
Killian’s jaw muscles twitched with the force of his clenched jaw. That one little damn word taunted him.
The go-bag, the two men looking for him, and the unmistakable fear in his eyes were all signs Nick was in survival mode. And his need to stay alive prevailed, preventing him from creating ties and planting roots.
That’s why he thinks he can’t say yes.
Killian understood. He didn’t like it, but he understood.
Running the license plate he suspected belonged to those two men had resulted in a dead end. Some bullshit trail leading back to a corporation that didn’t exist. He had played that game enough times to recognize the one in charge prided himself on keeping a low profile.
Nick had tossed and turned during the night, but had eventually settled enough to sleep. But his restlessness and worry had kept Killian up most of the night as well. He sighed, staring at the empty pot, needing the jolt of caffeine. He wondered if Nick would want some lunch after waking from his sleep marathon. After a quick glance at his wristwatch, Killian realized the tally now reached almost fourteen hours.
Nick had officially crashed and burned.
Disregarding the stupid coffee pot intent on breaking the world record for slowest brewing speed, Killian opened the refrigerator, taking inventory and making a mental grocery list of essentials. He had enough for a few days, but depending upon how long Nick chose to stay, he’d need to make a store run.
Fuck it. He was going to fill the fridge and pantry, make sure the bed was comfortable enough for several sleep marathons, and show Nick every secret protective detail of the house until he felt safe with him. Killian refused to make Nick’s decision to leave an easy one.
He glanced back at the coffee pot with a snarl. Not a damn drop had brewed.
He scrubbed his face, hating to admit his defenses were waning. But based on the desire staring back at him last night, it wasn’t a solitary fight. It wouldn’t take much convincing to have Nick stay a bit longer. But it would take more time for the man to finally give in to whatever this was between them.
Killian lowered his brow when his phone vibrated across the countertop. The app alert on his screen had him swiping his finger and launching his camera feed to check who had breached the perimeter. He closed his eyes and groaned.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
He sure as hell didn’t need this shit now.
“Hey,” Nick said, crossing his arms and leaning against the frame of the archway into the hallway.
“Hey.” Killian forced his body to calm. Nick had dressed in a dark T-shirt and loose-fitting jeans. He had brushed his hair, but it looked as if he had run his fingers through it, giving it a more casual style. Definitely not the polish-perfect look he kept while working. Nick kept his hair short at the back but longer at the top, long enough to grab a fistful of hair and guide his…
Killian shook his head, trying to erase the visual crossing his mind. “Glad to see you were able to get some sleep.”
“It was more like passing out.” Nick shrugged and looked away. “Happens in waves after a few restless nights.”
Killian subtly nodded, pursing his lips. Noted. Whatever Nick ran from was enough to give him sleepless nights more often than not. “Are you hungry? I can make you something.”
“That’d be great. But I could use some of that coffee first.”
Grabbing another mug from the cupboard, Killian stole a glance over his shoulder at the coffee machine, shaking his head at the now full pot. “Sugar? Milk?”
“Both. Please.”
He grabbed the sugar and withdrew the carton of milk from the fridge, setting both on the kitchen countertop. “A little warning.”
Nick stepped forward and covered his mouth, his jaw cracking on a yawn. “Sorry. A warning?”
“You’re about to meet someone in a few seconds. Please don’t hold it against me.”
Nick immediately straightened. “Someone?”
“Business associate.” Killian took a sip from his mug, watching Nick as he mixed his own coffee.
“Business associates come to your house?” Nick asked, blowing the edge of his caffeine concoction which looked more like a cup full of milk with a splash of coffee in it.
“He’s also a friend.” Killian set the mug down and frowned. “Probably my only one. I’m not sure what that says about me.”
Nick chuckled.
That subtle sound delivered a swift kick to Killian’s blue balls, weakening him. He’d give anything to hear the sound of Nick’s laughter.
He inwardly cringed at the distant sound of the exterior garage door closing.
Five, four, three, two, one…
“It’s just me. Don’t shoot!”
Killian groaned at the familiar voice traveling through the hallway as the doorway leading to the garage opened and closed.
“I saw a new technique on video, and I’m totally going to…” Dex’s words trailed off as he stepped into the living room with his duffle bag in one hand and a large brown paper bag in the other, his gaze bouncing between him and Nick. A slow, devilish grin widened across his face. “Well, well, well. Look what the hissing cat dragged in.”
Killian picked up his mug again, praying it would disguise the embarrassment heating his face. How the hell this man was serious enough to be the best cleaner in the business was the one fucking mystery he’d never solve.
Dex set the paper bag on the kitchen counter without saying a single word, his eyes sweeping Nick from head to toe. He hefted his duffle bag and headed out of the living room. “I’m going to set my bag in my room.”
“You’re not staying,” Killian said in a level tone, taking another sip from his mug.
“The hell I’m not.” Dex slowly turned, that wicked grin firmly in place. “It’s my room.”
“No.” Killian set his mug down on the counter with more force than intended. “It’s a guest room in my house. I have one guest and one room. You’re shit out of luck.”
“I’m the only person who’s slept in that bed and pissed in that bathroom. For all intents and purposes, that room and bathroom are mine.”
Nick ducked his head then tried to hide a smile as he took another sip of his coffee.
“I even brought food so you can’t get all grumpy about that either.”
“I. Said. No.” Killian turned and rinsed his mug in the sink.
“Killian! It’s my room,” Dex said with a hint of a whine in his voice.
Killian whipped around sharply, sending visual daggers across the room at his friend.
“Killian?” Nick set his mug on the countertop, the grin from moments ago completely evaporated from his expression. Nick stared at him with questioning eyes, drilling holes into any argument or excuse he attempted to formulate in his mind at that moment. “Killian?”
He hated hearing his name from those lips. He hated the questioning look, but worst of all, he hated the hint of hurt staring back at him. He hadn’t lied about his name. Yet, it still held a shade of betrayal. Gripping the edge of the countertop, Killian rocked back and forth as his breathing sped, needing something to ground him and keep him steady as his anger mounted. He wanted to wrap his fingers around Dex’s neck for erecting a wall between him and the one person he wanted above all else in this world.
Nick’s green eyes were still pinned on him, assessing him. Waiting. Killian looked away and cursed under his breath. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, fighting to control the storm of emotions brewing within.
“Killian?” Dex said, his voice barely a whisper.
Shut the fuck up! Killian straightened, his jaw locked and his shoulders square. The sound of his name echoing in the otherwise silent room was a knife turning in his gut. A reminder of the only semi-truth he had let slip to Nick. He steeled his features, refusing to make eye contact with the two pairs of eyes burning into his skin. He walked out from behind the counter and into the hallway.
Dex stood in his path. Killian stopped for a moment, not wanting to barrel into the man. At this point, any form of contact would threaten his control, and that was a risk he wouldn’t take.
He tilted his head slightly toward Dex and slowly breathed, using every ounce of strength in his reservoir to corral the rage inside. His body quaked with the force of each measured and controlled movement.
Dex’s eyes rounded. “I’m sorry,” he whispered and stepped out of his way, clearing the path.
Killian headed toward the training room without saying another word.
He wanted to hit something.
He needed to hit something.
Better the bag than his friend.
At least he could wrap duct tape around the punching bag to patch it up or dump it after ripping it apart.
═ ☼ ═
Killian.
Nick stood still, wondering what had just happened. He could easily see this guy was teasing and taunting Ian, but something had set him off.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” Ian’s friend-slash-business-associate paced the living room, raking his hand through his brown hair. “Shit!”
It’s part of my name. The part I’m willing to reveal to you.
Kill-ian.
The realization came quick, but wasn’t shocking. Ian looked polished and refined in his dark suits, but there was an undercurrent of darkness about him which kept others at a guarded distance. With any other person, Nick would have stayed away as well. But not Ian.
Nick stared between the man in his frenzied swirl of mumbling chaos and the hallway where Ian had disappeared to. The rhythmic, quick, hard sound of repeated thumps echoed in the air. One strike after another, hard and fast.
His heartbeat sped. Ripples of lust still lingered from witnessing the amount of control Ian had shown moments ago. What was it about this man that spiked Nick’s libido so much and tested his own limits? He stepped forward, lured by the rhythmic thumping sound, stopped only by a firm grip on his arm.
“I wouldn’t do that. He needs space right now.”
Nick stared at the hand on his forearm, trailing his gaze up the thick arm to the man’s face. “How about we start with an official introduction so I can properly address you when telling you to take your damn hand off me.”
“I’m Dex.” He released his hold on Nick’s arm as a smile twitched his lips. “You must be Mr. Fuck You.”
Nick raised an eyebrow.
“Long story. But I can see why he gets all caveman over you. Seriously though, give him some space right now. I pushed him too much and he needs some time to rein that shit in. It’s my screwup and you shouldn’t be on the receiving end of that.” He took a deep breath as he glanced over his shoulder toward the hallway. “I don’t even know what set him off so much.”
“You called him Killian.”
Dex cocked his head. “That’s his name. I could have called him Dickhead, but I figured that would be rude considering we had a guest in the house.” He bit back a smile. “Speaking of names. What’s yours?”
“Nick.”
“Where did you guys meet?”
“Work.”
Dex shook his head. “Try again. He’s a loner. He wouldn’t have a partner.”
For some reason, those words dug into Nick far more than he wanted to admit. “I thought you guys worked together?” he asked with more bite than he had intended.
“Wow. Okay. There’s a whole novel going on reading between the lines with you two. The man needs his space right now. Come here.”
Nick followed Dex to the living room couch and slumped into the space next to him.
“How long have you guys known each other?”
Nick clasped his hands, still hanging on Dex’s words. He wouldn’t have a partner. “About six months.”
“Which is around the time he started getting distracted and slowed down his retirement plans.”
A million different questions raced through Nick’s mind. Ian was a complicated man, and Dex added more intrigue into the mix.
“Why would he get mad about his name? Don’t tell me he told you his name was Harry or something like that.”
Nick shook his head again. “He told me his name was Ian.”
“That sounds…nice.” Dex scratched his head, screwing his features. “Not sure why he did that. He’s usually a very logical person.”
The part I’m willing to reveal…
Nick closed his eyes and blew out a heavy breath. There were far too many hints to ignore. And he hadn’t survived this long by being blissfully ignorant. “What does he do for a living?”
Dex sat back in the couch and raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa! I’ve already fucked things up enough. There’s no way I’m going down that rabbit hole.”
Nick turned his body toward him, giving Dex his full attention. “What do you do for a living?”
“I plead the fifth.”
Nick looked up to the heavens and groaned. These two men were both stubborn, but underneath their verbal jabs, there was an obvious friendship. He’s my only friend.
“Look,” Dex said, leaning forward. “All kidding aside, I’ve never seen him like this, so I know you’re important to him. The man smiled the other day and that shit just doesn’t happen. If I need to leave, I will.”
“No.” Nick shook his head. “You’re not leaving, but you’re not getting the guest room.”
“But I—”
“I pissed in the bathroom and slept in the bed last.”
Dex chuckled. He stared at Nick, the smile lingering on his face. “I can see why he likes you. You don’t take shit from people. That’s important if you’re going to get through to him.”
“I’m going to go check on him.” Nick stood from the couch and headed toward the hallway.
“Uh, I wouldn’t do that.”
“You’re right. You wouldn’t. But I am.”
“You have a death wish.”
Nick stopped in the middle of the entryway to the hall. He couldn’t argue that. He probably should have opened his mouth two years ago to the authorities and found safety in the witness protection program. Instead, he’d chosen to keep quiet and run. And now, he was living in the shadows, playing a game of survival.
“Maybe.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re with him.” Dex remained silent for a few moments as he stared at him intently. His gaze was inquisitive, curious, and revealed a serious side he obviously enjoyed disguising. “Because no one will protect you better than he can.”
Nick returned his stare with equal intensity, refusing to respond to the comment. He turned away from Dex’s prying eyes and followed the rhythmic sound down the hallway.
═ ☼ ═
Killian gritted his teeth as he delivered another jab to the bag, ignoring the burning ache in his arms from his earlier workout. He shouldn’t be here right now after having pushed his body so much that morning. But returning to the living room and facing the betrayal in those green eyes forced him to thrust his fist into the bag, again and again.
It was stupid. He hadn’t lied. Not really. Yet he felt the weight of the million questions in those eyes and didn’t know how to handle the emotional vulnerability staring back at him.
“Ian.”
He gripped the swinging punching bag to hold it still, refusing to turn around. His strength evaporated with each passing second. His head was a mess and his body ached, each breath burning through his throat and lungs in protest. He leaned his forehead against the canvas material, wishing he had Nick between his grip and his skin pressed against him.
“Ian.” Nick’s voice was closer, softer, luring him as it always did.
Killian turned, his gaze pinned to the mats covering the floor of the training room. He couldn’t stomach revisiting the sting of pain in Nick’s eyes. He swallowed deeply, still trying to settle his breathing. He swiped his forearm across his brow to wipe at the sweat trickling down the sides of his face.
“Ian, please look at me.”
I can’t.
Killian pulled the tab with his teeth and yanked the glove off his hand, and then did the same to the other, pitching them both on the floor without uttering a word as he followed each of Nick’s movements in his periphery.
“You didn’t lie to me.” Nick sat on the weight bench and waited. “You unknowingly revealed your biggest truth.”
Killian’s gaze snapped up to him, finally making eye contact.
Nick patted the bench at his side. “My neck’s going to hurt. I’d appreciate it if you sat down.”
Killian walked over to the bench and sat, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees. “I’m sorry I…misled you.”
“You didn’t. You told me it was part of your name, and it is.” Nick turned his head toward him and smiled before staring ahead again. “The other day, seeing the guns…” He quieted, as if carefully choosing his words. “Let’s just say…I wasn’t surprised.”
Killian scoffed.
“How about we make a pact?” Nick offered. “No more half-truths between us.”
“Isn’t a half-truth better than no truth at all?”
“Not if it makes you this upset. Besides, our time is short in this world.” Nick quieted as if thinking over what he had just said. “Why waste it with half-truths when we can be honest with each other?”
“I can’t always promise the full truth. But I can promise I won’t lie.”
Nick nodded as if that were enough. “So you kill people?”
He sure as shit didn’t beat around the bush. Killian’s jaw hurt from the pressure of biting down so hard. He had just promised he would never lie. But how could he possibly answer that question with the truth? Or a fraction of the truth where this was concerned and risk pushing Nick away?
“I’ll take your silence as my answer.” Nick rubbed his palms back and forth on his jean-clad thighs, the faint scratching sound of his skin brushing against the denim ringing loudly in the air. “Are they all…bad people?”
Killian took a deep breath. Apparently, Nick never wanted him to speak again with this line of questioning.
Taking a life was the issue most people found to be the moral conflict. Bad people? That was the one sticking point in his code. There was no standard in taking a life—he had learned that early on. Instead, he focused on their crimes, what they did and how that defined the degree of evil in that person’s soul. He couldn’t explain it, but it was a twisted logic he had established in his mind ages ago to justify his actions and stomach the monster he had been groomed to become. It made perfect sense in his mind, but he never expected anyone to understand his motives.
He ducked his head and closed his eyes. He couldn’t lie to Nick. Not because of a pact, but because his will just didn’t seem to allow it. As if lying to him would be a mortal sin, and nothing he could ever do in this lifetime or the next could atone for that deception. Nick hadn’t run away that day in the restaurant bathroom when he had patched him up, and he wasn’t running now.
Killian swallowed heavily, knowing he couldn’t lie. Instead of voicing a reply, he nodded in response.
“And what does your sidekick do?”
Killian quietly chuckled. He turned his head to face Nick. There was no way in hell he was letting this man go. “He’s my cleaner. It’s his job to make sure there isn’t a trace left behind on a job.”
“And he’s good at what he does?”
“He can be an ass. But yes, he’s the best. My life depends on it.”
“And you? Are you…good at your job?”
Killian swallowed past the rock forming in his throat, refusing to break eye contact.
Nick’s expression softened. “I told you before, you don’t scare me.”
“No one can read me.” Killian scowled. “How the hell can you tell what I’m thinking?”
“You say a lot, even when you don’t speak.” Nick shrugged and bit his bottom lip.
Killian inhaled sharply, wondering how that lip would feel between his own teeth.
“So I’ll assume that you still being here is a testament to your…skills. I’m guessing you’ve done this for years. I doubt it’s the kind of profession you’d choose because of some mid-life crisis career change.”
He cringed.
Nick chuckled, staring at him with a hint of playfulness in his expression. His eyes swept Killian’s features. “I told you. I like the gray.” He quieted and faced forward again, staring ahead at the wall, lost in thought.
Killian was mesmerized, staring at Nick’s profile. Nick’s nose was straight, unlike his own which had been broken twice before. His face was square-shaped, which only served to highlight his strong jawline and his full mouth. A hint of stubble had grown in overnight, but still not enough to hide his Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down his long neck with each swallow.
He wanted to lick that neck and kiss those full lips.
“Why were those men looking for you?”
Nick’s body heaved with a heavy sigh. He remained silent for a while, his gaze locked on a spot on the wall across from them, before returning his attention to Killian. “I guess it’s fair I answer a few of your questions.”
Killian nodded once, encouraging him to continue.
Nick rolled his bottom lip into his mouth. “I’m…worried I’m the one who’s going to scare you off.”
“You won’t.”
Nick braced his hands on his thighs. “I used to live in Chicago. One night, after my shift at work was over, I was finally going to have my first weekend off in a month. I didn’t feel like having dinner from the vending machine again. So I headed home. There was construction on my usual route and the detour had heavy traffic. I spotted this small restaurant that was still open and thought I’d give it a shot.” He seethed. “I can’t believe that came out like that. Funny choice of words without even thinking about it.”
Killian quickly cycled through each word again in his mind, trying to pinpoint where the secret resided.
Nick glanced up. “In the middle of dinner, someone came into the restaurant and shot another man.”
Killian’s heartbeat quickened. “Did they hurt you?”
“No.” Nick shook his head. “I was a surgeon at the hospital. Instinct forced me to race over to the man and do what I could to help.”
“That’s why you patched me up that night.” Killian absently nodded, finally connecting the dots as to why Nick had such skill and precision with his stitchwork.
“I can’t help it,” Nick said with a shrug.
“Why would they want to hurt you for helping someone?”
“They didn’t. Quite the opposite. He didn’t want to report his injury and he refused to go to the hospital, so I knew something wasn’t right. But he would have died. And I could help him. So I went along with it, stabilized him enough for them to rush us to a new location. I performed surgery to remove the bullet and watched over him that night and all through the weekend until he had recovered enough to be out of danger of infection. They thanked me. Offered to give me anything and said I’d have free dinners for however long I wanted.”
Killian shook his head, missing the trigger that would result in fear. “I’m not following.”
Nick rubbed his hands together. “I still had my staff badge on that night when I walked into the restaurant, so they knew where I worked. About a week later, they waited for me after my shift and followed me. They pulled me off the road. Someone else had gotten shot and they needed my help.”
Killian straightened, finally uncovering the missing piece in the puzzle, suddenly aware how things had quickly snowballed into a problem. “How many guys did you patch up that way?”
“Too many.” Nick quieted, running his fingers through his hair. “Gunshots, stab wounds. It was amazing to see the tools some people could weaponize in a pinch. They broke into a vet clinic one time when I told them I didn’t have the supplies I needed.”
Killian didn’t have to ask about the man Nick had saved that first night. Based on the city’s history and the way these men had behaved, it was obvious one of the many branches in the underworld were involved in some way. Killian would eventually ask for more information, but for now, he wouldn’t push. He was familiar enough with that life to know permission was rarely requested, especially if the answer didn’t coincide with the result they wanted. “They wouldn’t let you stop.”
Nick shook his head. “I removed four bullets from a man and set his broken arm. All while another man held a gun to my head because I had hesitated to go with them.”
Hesitation rarely ended well, especially on the dark side of things.
“The next day, I walked away. I couldn’t do it anymore. I left my life behind and didn’t look back.”
“Did you leave a paper trail? Change your name?”
A soft laugh escaped Nick. “Let’s just say, I didn’t exactly have a conventional upbringing. I know better than to leave a trail.” He glanced up at Killian, the tiredness returning in his green eyes. “I change my last name but keep some version of my first so I don’t completely lose myself.”
A smile tugged at Killian’s lips. Nick possessed a quiet strength and a huge reservoir of resilience Killian imagined Nick hadn’t completely discovered yet.
“I went by Nicholas Stratton before. That was me…for a long time. It was a good life. I kept a low profile through my teen and college years. I guess that created a false sense of security in me, so I let myself settle in a bit. I worked toward a solid career, finished my residency, and got a job at the hospital. I loved what I did. I poured myself into my work, loved every moment I was able to help someone.”
Nick quieted again, his mood sobering. “Those bastards took that from me. They stole that choice and made me hate what I could do.” He vehemently shook his head, his breath shaking his body with more force. “I dreaded going in to work every day, wondering if I’d end up in some dark warehouse or abandoned building somewhere patching up another guy from some private war.”
Killian tightened his hands into fists, battling to maintain control. He wanted to know who these people were who dared threaten Nick.
Nick blew out a heavy breath and straightened, facing the empty wall again. He leaned back, relaxing his posture, gripping the back of the bench where he sat. “I go by Nick Holloway now. That was the last name of my first patient. She was a very kind woman to her very nervous, newbie doctor. I’ll never forget her.” A wistful smile softened his features. “Maybe this is the last time I have to change who I am.”
Killian had so many questions, but there was no way he would ask them and risk pushing Nick away. His heart thundered in his chest. From the protectiveness, the excitement of Nick confiding in him, or just the casualness of having him sitting so close for this long…Killian wasn’t sure. There was only one thing he knew with one hundred percent certainty.
“I won’t let them hurt you.”
“I had a feeling you’d say that.” A teasing smile pulled at Nick’s features. “Are you a man of your word?”
“Always.”
“Good. Because I’m hungry and you said you’d feed me.”
Nick leaned over and rested his chin on Killian’s shoulder. An innocent gesture but the contact instantly spiked Killian’s pulse.
“Please tell me we’re okay,” Nick whispered, closing his eyes as if waiting for some blow to strike with the reply.
Killian’s eyes slid shut when Nick’s breath brushed against his cheek. He leaned into him, unable to resist, and pressed their foreheads together. In that moment, there was nothing Killian wanted more than to wrap his arms around this man and shield him from all the evils around him. But he would never dare, unless he was granted permission. He’d wait for that elusive “yes” for however long he needed to wait. For now, he’d cherish these tiny moments between them.
“We’re okay. I promise,” he finally said, resisting the urge to press his lips against Nick’s skin to taste him.
“Thank you. For saving me last night and bringing me here.” Nick turned his head, resting his cheek on Killian’s shoulder.
Killian fought the urge to pull him closer. “I can make you breakfast. You told me once you could eat it three times a day. Or I can make you a sandwich. Assuming my sidekick out there hasn’t eaten everything in the fridge already.”
Nick chuckled. “Okay,” he responded in a whisper, but didn’t move an inch.
Killian wasn’t going to break the delicate connection they shared. He welcomed the silence and the heat of contact, however slight it was, between them. He tentatively leaned in, resting the side of his head against Nick’s, enjoying the few minutes together before Nick’s rumbling stomach broke the peace between them.
Killian’s stride was lighter as they returned to the living room, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Maybe there was something to this…being honest…thing.
He stilled when Dex rose from the living room couch and faced them. His friend stared at them, wringing his hands, his gaze ping-ponging between him and Nick standing at his side. “Do I stay or go?”
“Stay,” Nick said. “But you’re not getting the room.”
Dex’s gaze snapped to Killian.
He subtly nodded in agreement.
“The couch works.” Dex walked over to the counter and withdrew items from the bag. “I’m hungry as hell.”
“You’re always hungry.”
“I’m a growing boy.”
“You’re thirty-five.”
Nick chuckled and turned toward Killian, his green eyes no longer holding that sadness from a few moments ago. “Since we’re on the subject. How old are you?”
Killian lowered his brow and walked around him and into the kitchen. “I’m going to make some sandwiches.”
“He’s forty-five,” Dex yelled out.
Killian rounded on him and delivered a death glare.
“You’re the one who brought up the age thing.” Dex crinkled his nose. “You should change. You smell like a bear’s ass.”
“You’re getting a whiff of all the shit you’re talking.”
Dex waved him off and continued pulling items from the bag, stopping for a moment, and looking up at the two of them.
“What?” Killian slowly said. He knew that look on his friend’s face meant he was about to do or say something he probably shouldn’t, but couldn’t resist. He raised a stopping hand. “Don’t,” he said with a clear warning in his tone. “Whatever it is. Don’t.”
Dex withdrew a tub of lube and set it on the counter with a loud thump and a ridiculous grin on his face. “I figured you’d need a little practice if you were going to make a move on Mr. Fuck You.”
The thing looked large enough to lube an entire town. Killian closed his eyes and took a deep, painfully long breath, begging for the earth to open beneath his feet and swallow him whole to avoid this much embarrassment. He needed a miracle to step in and save his friend from imminent death.
“You said you had more bags in the car. Why don’t you go grab those,” Nick said, holding back a grin. “And I strongly suggest you take your time.”
Dex strolled out of the living room toward the doorway leading to the garage, not bothering to hide the extra kick in his step. His shoulders shuddering with the laughter Killian knew the little shit was hiding. Fucker.
“He does it to get a rise out of you,” Nick said once Dex had walked through the garage.
“It worked,” Killian grumbled. “He’s normally not…this bad.” He yanked open the fridge and pulled out the different ingredients to make the sandwiches.
“Okay, so let me ask you a few questions.” Nick leaned his hip against the pantry door and crossed his arms.
“Go ahead.”
“Do you normally respond to him like this?”
“No. I usually ignore him when he gets too…spunky.”
“That’s why he’s doing it.”
“He’s not a child in need of attention. He’s a grown man who’s insanely talented. He’s smart and a quick thinker.” Killian’s lips thinned. “A little too quick sometimes. Snarky little shit.”
Nick chuckled.
“He’s making himself look like an ass.”
“Because he’s happy for you,” Nick commented, pushing off the pantry door. “He said you smiled the other day and you normally don’t do that. I’m guessing he’s trying to pull some type of emotion out of you.”
Killian stilled when Nick approached, stopping only a few inches away from him.
“I imagine you’re always in control.” Nick stared at him, his green eyes almost challenging him. “In what you do and how you react.”
“I have to be. My survival depends on it.”
“Just in case you’re wondering, I’m thirty-two. And I’ve already told you I like the gray. So don’t let his wisecracks about age bother you.”
Killian swallowed heavily when Nick took another step closer. He stood tall and confident, and only a couple of inches shorter than Killian with his stiffened posture.
Nick’s gaze traveled along Killian’s chest and arms, his eyes intense and filled with longing. Killian’s skin twitched with the need humming in his body as if phantom fingers skated across his flesh with each sweep of those green eyes.
“This…control you always have,” Nick whispered in a distant tone. “It’s no wonder Dex tries to break through it.”
It was taking every scrap of power in Killian’s soul to control his body.
Nick’s gaze slid up his chest and neck, back up to make eye contact. “I want to know what you’re like without that cloak of control.”
Killian closed his eyes, his breath coming out as a hiss. “Show some mercy. Say yes.” A groan escaped when arms slid around his neck and Nick’s warm body pressed against his chest in an embrace.
“I want to,” Nick whispered, his breath brushing the side of Killian’s neck. “But it’s not fair to you unless I know I’m staying.”
He opened his eyes when Nick retreated but remained close, placing his hand on Killian’s cheek to draw his attention. He stared into those green, haunting pools, swirling with a mix of emotions he couldn’t decipher.
“I can’t hurt you like that.” Nick reached down to grab Killian’s wrists, pulling his hands and placing them on his waist. Nick slid his arms back around Killian’s neck, sighing when Killian tugged him closer. “Please don’t hate me.”
Killian silenced a groan, reveling in the heat of the embrace. Nick’s heart beat hard and fast against his chest, in tandem with his own racing pulse, leaving little room to deny the attraction between them was mutual. He slid his hands up Nick’s back, splaying them possessively as he leaned into the man, cherishing this moment of intimacy. The comfort was more than he could have imagined, and the warmth of the man against him was enough to thaw even the grandest of glaciers in his soul. He sighed, never recalling ever experiencing this odd contented level of peace.
He’d summon his deepest reservoir of strength and control, anything to get the yes he craved. A yes meant more than a quick romp in the sheets. It came with a chance…a solemn vow for a future. A future Killian thought he’d never have.
He inhaled deeply, breathing Nick in, stifling a moan as he ran his fingers through the silky, light golden-brown strands to hold his head in place. Killian had survived broken bones, gunshots, and stabbings. He had enough scars to prove he was a survivor. But in that moment, he closed his eyes as his greatest fear reared its ugly head.
Giving up this man or the promise that had finally brightened his dim world would be far more painful than death and leave a scar unlikely to heal in his lifetime.
The promise of that dream was something Killian hadn’t dared think was possible. Now that the flickers of a future brought color and life back into his spirit, there was no turning back.
Hope had finally sparked in his dark soul.
And it would be a cold day in hell before he let anyone take that from him.