“I’m telling!”
“No, you’re not!”
“Am, too!”
“Are not!”
A high-pitched squeal rent the early morning air. Madeline stalked briskly to the front door and threw it open. The resounding crash that followed could be heard quite clearly next door at the Samuelle house.
Nikita looked out her kitchen window and smiled. Michael stood behind her, his arms wrapped snugly around her waist, his grasp at once possessive and loving. “Sounds like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”
Michael rested his chin on her shoulder, gazing in the direction of the Hunter house. “Madeline sounds like that every morning, Kita.”
She half-turned in his arms to face him, a questioning look in her light blue eyes. “Do *we* sound like that, Michael?”
“No,” he replied tersely, his lips curving slightly at the corners, as if he were suppressing a full-blown smile.
“Ever?” she prodded.
“Well….” His pause was too long for comfort. Nikita gave her husband an impatient shove, but he refused to budge, using her momentum to pull her even more tightly against him. His hands slid down her back, and he could feel her shiver. The fact that he could still provoke such a reaction after so many years of marriage exhilarated him.
His eyelids slowly drifting shut, he nudged her lips apart with his own, sudden desire seizing him by the throat. He kissed her rapaciously and so thoroughly that her mouth, rubbed free of lipstick, looked deliciously pink and swollen in the aftermath. “Mmm…” she murmured when they broke apart for a much-needed breath. “What was that for?”
His tongue darted out to moisten his lips, and for a moment, she was totally disconcerted, so much so that she forgot what she had asked. Until he spoke.
He did smile then, as he bent his head to nuzzle the side of her face. “I was thanking you for not being Madeline.”
Nikita chuckled, her pale eyes darkening with renewed passion. “Well,” she quipped flirtatiously, “did I mention how glad I am that you’re not Neil?”
He claimed her mouth again, leaving no doubt in her mind that there could never be anyone like Michael. With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly stepped back, his arms releasing their grip on her. “This,” he said, indicating the relative proximity of their bodies, “could lead to something if we don’t watch out.”
She deliberately slid her hands under his sweater, wishing that the weather were warmer, just so she could touch his bare skin. “Do you have to go to the University today?”
“I could—“ Nikita caressed his chest through the thin shirt he wore beneath his sweater. She heard his sharp intake of breath and she knew that she had him. Right where she wanted him.
“—go in later,” Michael finished in a choked voice.
She bit her lip provocatively. “How much later?”
He smiled enigmatically.
***
Madeline counted to ten. Then she started over. Holding her temper had never been this difficult in Section One. In fact, some thought she had ice running through her veins.
“Neil!”
Connor looked curiously at his mother. “Dad’s got office hours, Mom.”
Madeline glared at her son. “I know,” she said glacially.
She screamed again. “Neil!”
Neil appeared on the second-floor landing, his lab coat unbuttoned, his hair askew. He looked like he was in complete and utter disarray. “Maddy?”
Madeline’s eyes narrowed. Connor shrank back. He knew that look. That was the look that said Mom was going to hack Dad to pieces. Just once, just once he wished that Dad would love her a little less and—and—tell her to knock it off.
“Neil, come down here right now!”
Neil smiled. It was a lazy, amused smile that belied the inner tension he felt. He had had enough. They had drawn a line in the sand a long, long time ago.
And Maddy just crossed it.
“Why don’t you come up here, Madeline?” he asked politely, intentionally using her full name.
“There are patients up there,” she hissed, hinting at the lack of privacy.
“That didn’t seem to bother you before,” he reminded her, a curious glint in his blue eyes.
Oh, so it was going to be like that, eh? Madeline shrugged her shoulders back and determinedly marched up the stairs, ignoring the incredulous looks of her children.
Connor quickly made peace with Kady. “Hey, if I were you, kid, I’d get the heck outta Dodge! There might even be a nuclear explosion!”
***
Not exactly.
Madeline eyed her husband the way a predator examines its next potential meal. “How dare you speak to me that way,” she said in a low-pitched voice.
“How dare *you*! Everything bugs you! The house bugs you! The kids bug you! Even *I* bug you! Well, guess what, Maddy? Get over it!”
“Get over what, Neil?” she growled.
“Whatever it is that’s making you this way!”
“What if it’s *you* that’s making me this way?”
Neil started to nod, a fierce look in his eye that marked him as someone to be reckoned with. “You know what you need?”
“No, why don’t you tell me, Neil?” she sneered.
“This!” With that, he grabbed her and slammed her against the wall, so hard that she gasped for breath. “Neil!”
Breathing harshly, Neil covered her mouth with his, grinding his hips against her lower body. When he tore himself away finally, she covered her mouth with the back of her hand. “Neil!”
“Oh, quit acting like an outraged maiden, Maddy! You wanted to be treated like fine china. I treated you that way. And where did it get us? It got us here! Fighting over nothing! Do you know why, Maddy? Goddammit, do you know why?”
Madeline flattened herself against the wall, as if she could make herself invisible to that penetrating glare. “Wh-why?”
“Cause you really need something else. Do you know what it is, Maddy?” His voice was growing calmer, lower, more hypnotic.
Without waiting for an answer, he buried his face in her long dark hair, his teeth tugging at her unadorned earlobe. His hand slid under her skirt, seeking the vee of her legs.
She was hot, wet, tensed to go off like a firecracker. He was harder than he’d ever been in his life.
Her dark eyes flew open and met his. Her chest gently heaved as he palmed her.
“What are you going to do?” she whispered.
He licked her lips before he took her mouth in a punishing kiss. “Something I should have done a long time ago. Fuck you senseless.”
Nikita twined her hands in Michael’s hair, holding him fast when he would have moved away. He blinked at her curiously, his mutable green-grey eyes seeming vaguely out of focus. “What?”
“I want you.”
Nikita kissed him. No gentle meeting of the mouths was this, but a defiant claiming of the dark knight’s heart and soul. “I—I want you, too, doucette. Let’s go upstairs.”
“I can’t wait that long.”
With a sweep of her arm, Nikita cleared the kitchen table. Luckily, there was little breakable on it. Not that she would have cared. She hoisted herself up onto the table, pulling Michael after her, their mouths joined once again. Her legs spread wide, she continued to kiss him, even as she shrugged out of her jacket, leaving her clad only in a long-tailed shirt and faded jeans.
She unbuttoned her jeans, and Michael thrust his hands down the sides, skimming them off her long legs almost in one movement. Michael gazed at her in wide-eyed wonder as he realized that she wore nothing else. His nimble fingers made short work of unbuttoning her shirt, and the long tails hung open, exposing her breasts even as they covered her hips.
He pushed her knees apart and settled her heels on either side of his shoulders. She lay back, her long hair swinging from side to side, as she rested on her arms. On his knees, he was at exactly the right height to pleasure her and he lost no time in doing so. “Ohh,” she whimpered.
A moment later, she protested, “But Michael, you’re still dressed. That’s not fair.”
When his tongue enthusiastically lapped at the silken flesh between her legs, she forgot her complaint. Now there was nothing between them but the fire burning out of control. He nibbled and licked and stroked, finding the taste of her on his lips a natural aphrodisiac. “I don’t want to come without you,” she managed to say, finding herself increasingly breathless.
“You won’t,” he assured her. Pausing in his ministrations, he stood only long enough to unzip his pants, his hardened length already beading up with nature’s lubrication. In one smooth movement, he entered her. He shifted her bottom as close to the edge of the table as he dared, making his entry deeper and harder.
His lips latching onto her breast, he suckled hard, feeling the fine tremors that signaled release making their way through her body. “Now,” he whispered, thrusting faster than before. For a long moment, it felt as though they hung there, right over the precipice, feeling their breath catch in their respective throats. Nikita arched her back and crossed her ankles behind Michael’s head, pulling him into her one last time. With a soft groan, he spilled his seed within her snug, warm confines, savoring the quivering aftermath of such a turbulent coming together.
They kissed repeatedly, as though they couldn’t get enough of each other. Such kissing made them strangely preoccupied. It was as if no one else existed.
All at once that illusion was shattered.
Michael heard someone approaching, but he had no idea who it was. Withdrawing quickly, he managed to clean himself up before whoever it was came into the kitchen. He was just adjusting himself when his daughter entered. Of course, it was her. Who else would it be but—
“Faith!” Michael exclaimed guiltily, certain that his cheeks were flushing bright red.
He turned to face her, unconsciously shielding Nikita from view. “Faith! What are you doing up so early on a Saturday?”
While Michael was talking, Nikita was able to button her shirt, but she could not reach her jeans nor could she put them on unobtrusively enough to escape her sharp-eyed daughter’s notice. Deciding that the tails would cover enough of her body, Nikita crossed her legs casually, concealing the fact that she wore no underwear.
“I dunno, Dad,” Faith said, selecting an apple from the refrigerator. Biting into the apple with a loud crunch, she said innocently, “What are *you two* doing in the kitchen?”
“What do you mean?” Nikita responded curtly, hoping that would be enough to deflect her all-too-observant daughter.
Faith giggled, a charming effect ruined by the next words out of her mouth. “I mean, come on, Mom, aren’t you guys getting a little old to be doing it on the kitchen table?”
Nikita crossed her arms in front of her chest, knowing that there was no possible way that Faith could know what they were doing. Nevertheless, she felt the sting of being discovered.
Jiggling her leg restlessly over her knee, Nikita replied crossly, “I don’t feel old. Do you feel old, Michael?”
Michael gave his wife an amused look before putting on a sterner face for his eldest daughter. Kicking her jeans surreptitiously further under the kitchen table, he said, “No, I don’t. Why do you ask, Faith?”
Faith snorted, a sound that only teenagers seem capable of making in response to their parents. “You guys are so funny.” At her father’s continued stare, she backed off. A little. “Cool.” She giggled despite herself. “But funny.”
Michael put his arm around Nikita, and she pulled his head down for a kiss. His hand slid unconsciously up her thigh and within moments, Faith had something else to say.
Clearing her throat, she said, “Sheesh, you guys could at least wait till I leave.”
Nikita smiled at Faith even as her fingers stroked her husband’s clean-shaven cheek. Faith waved blithely on her way out, muttering to herself about parents and sex.
Michael raised an eyebrow at Nikita, questioning the kiss, and she said, “What? It was the only way to get her to leave. If there’s anything Faith hates, it’s watching somebody *else* making out.”
Michael laughed. Softly running his finger under her chin, tipping her face up to look intently into her eyes, he asked, “Was that the only reason you kissed me?”
Nikita snorted. Just like her daughter. “What do *you* think?”
He lowered his head to nip at her neck, sighing, “I want you again.”
“Ooh, you *are* going to be late, Michael. What will the University think?” she chided him.
He looked at her quite blankly and said, “What University?”
Neil escorted his wife into his office, treating her in much the same way as any other patient. The waiting room was a bit on the crowded side. It was Saturday, and the office was only open until noon. But suddenly all those complaints that hadn’t seemed serious enough to warrant a visit to the doctor earlier in the week couldn’t wait until Monday.
Miranda was manning the desk. Once she started working with Neil, she managed to cut costs and streamline the overall organization of the office. She was a godsend. But Walter refused to let her work full-time. “Gotta have my woman with me, in case I need a jumpstart for my heart,” he said. Still, Neil got custody of the miracle worker for a half day on Saturdays in addition to whatever time she could spare during the week.
“Hey, boss,” she began as Neil strode past her. But she never got the opportunity to finish that sentence because Neil was a man in a hurry. Oh, well, she decided, if anything comes up, I can always call him on the intercom.
A moment after Neil and Madeline entered his office, the door slammed shut with an uncharacteristically loud thud. Another equally loud thump followed. Jeez, what were they doing in there? It sounded like they were moving furniture.
Miranda gave the door a quizzical look, but returned to studying the appointment calendar. There was another sound now. Like sliding. Like cloth rasping against—
Now what? Miranda pressed a finger to the intercom and queried, “Everything all right in there?”
Neil sounded out of breath, but otherwise fine. “Yes. Just—uh—knocked a few charts off the desk.”
She nodded absently. She had gotten used to Neil’s casual way of running things, and his personal life was his own. Hey, what was she saying? The man didn’t have much of a personal life, married to Ms. Unapproachable. Although…now that she thought of it, Madeline had a distinctly warm glow about her this morning.
She snorted under her breath. Maybe the damn witch got herself knocked up again. She paused in her perusal of the page in front of her. Nahhh. Neil wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole.
***
Maybe not. But then again, it was hardly a ten-foot pole.
Madeline. His immaculate Madeline, whose tongue was sharp enough to etch glass, was half-naked in his arms, her back against the door. Neil had removed his pants but nothing else, leaving him clad in an oversized white scrub top and paisley boxer shorts. To his surprise, Madeline had come inside and undressed, folding her skirt neatly over one of his office chairs. As nice as you please. As nice as a lady of noble birth inviting the Queen to tea.
They hadn’t spoken more than two words since they left the second-floor landing. Madeline’s blouse, a lace concoction that owed more to shrewd construction than fabric, lay open. Her front-clasp bra was unhooked; her breasts, still firm and round, were clasped none too gently by her husband.
But more to the point would be the observation that contrary to popular expectations, Madeline was thoroughly enjoying the manhandling she was receiving. Neil expertly parted her thighs, inserting himself with a powerful thrust that briefly lifted Madeline off her feet. Her head fell back, connecting with the door with a dull sound that resonated through the room.
“Oh, my God!,” Madeline moaned.
Neil stopped moving at once. “Ssh, we have to be quiet,” he whispered, putting a finger to her lips. Her dark eyes gleamed with uncharacteristic mischief. “We do?”
“Yes, you little troublemaker, we do,” he said, kissing her longingly.
“Suppose someone comes?” she asked, a wicked glint in her eye.
“Only one allowed to come is you,” he breathed into her open mouth.
“And you,” she insisted with a chuckle.
“Oh, yesss,” he hissed. “The doctor is in.”
***
It didn’t take long. But it was a wild ride while it lasted. Neil’s hands clutched at the creamy skin he claimed with such rapacious fervor, his fingers leaving imprints there, as he tried to achieve a closeness that was physically impossible. He was on her and inside her and all around her. All at the same time.
He wasn’t sure who was more stunned. Himself at taking her this way. Or Maddy for accepting the outrageous pounding of his flesh against hers.
It wasn’t making love. It was pure, unadulterated passion. The likes of which they had not shared in a long time. But wait—
“Neil, we’re backing up out here. Will you be ready soon?”
“Yes!” Neil shouted, loudly enough to be heard through the door.
If Miranda found it strange that Neil wasn’t using the intercom, she wisely didn’t say anything. There were any number of strange things to be found in the Samuelle family et environs. It didn’t pay to get worked up over most of them.
Madeline’s delicate little noises became out and out groans and whimpers. In an effort to prevent discovery, Neil clamped his hand over her mouth. Madeline’s eyes grew wide, and he could see his own excitement reflected in those dark depths. At the moment of maximum impact, her entire body trembled as she fell out into space. She bit his hand, and he would never be sure whether it was by design or accident. All he knew was it was the hottest thing that she had ever done to him. The second that her teeth touched his skin, he was gone.
They came together with a massive shudder that shook the door frame. Miranda looked up briefly, then shook her head. She hoped that Neil knew what he was doing. There were other women, less complicated women who would be more than willing to share his bed.
She hated to interrupt, but she was getting really tired of staring into the eyes of the exasperated woman opposite her desk. Pressing the intercom button one more time, she asked, “Would you like me to reschedule your appointments?”
The answer was a long time coming, but it was an emphatic “no”. Neil slumped against the door, his hands braced on either side of Madeline, and when he looked at her, he had to wonder what was holding her up. Towards the end, she had gone completely boneless in his arms, to the point where he was afraid that she would slide right down to the floor if he released her.
Spent and breathless, he contemplated the enigmatic woman he married. “Maddy? Are you okay with this?”
Suddenly a wild grin broke out across her previously impassive face. “More ‘n okay, Neil,” she murmured, half to herself.
“You are?” he asked, somewhat incredulous at the transformation in his wife.
“Damn straight. When can we do this again?”
He slid his hand down her body, caressing her gently between her legs. She was still hot and wet and sticky, but instead of rushing off to shower, she plainly invited further exploration by raising her knee. Finding the nub hidden deep within the dark brown curls, he lightly ran a fingertip over it, feeling it throb with renewed interest.
“How about now?”
She pulled his hand to her lips and licked his fingers, one by one, like a dainty cat. But Neil’s mouth dropped open when she took one finger into her mouth and suckled, the resulting desire arrowing directly to his groin. “Okay,” she drawled.
She began taking off the rest of her clothing, leaving a trail across the floor of his office as she did a slow walk to his desk. Peeking coyly over her shoulder at him, she whispered, “But don’t think you can run me just because I let you take over this time.”
In that moment, Neil knew that he had never felt so powerful in his life. He held the key now, and he’d be damned if he would give it back. Depressing the button on the intercom, he directed Miranda, “Hold all my calls. Oh, and—cancel all my appointments, too. I’ve got a long hard day ahead of me.”
He smiled.
“Mmmmm…that feels nice,” Sey murmured, still half-asleep. Stretched out full-length on his stomach, bed linens barely covering his muscular back and thighs, he smiled without opening his eyes. His lover was massaging the space at the base of his spine with his wet, warm tongue and—
Sey’s eyes flew open with a start. Wait a minute! Something was wrong with this picture. Declan’s tongue wasn’t *that* long. No one’s tongue was *that* long. Except maybe—
Sey sat up and shouted, “Ahhhhhhhhh!”
Declan dropped the razor he was using to shave into the sink and ran into the bedroom, dripping water and shaving cream all over the rug. “Sey! Baby, what is it?”
“That! That thing was—ugh! Licking me!”
Declan’s gaze followed the direction in which Sey’s fingers pointed. Suddenly Declan burst out laughing. When he could finally speak, he sputtered out, “Well, he *is* your dog!”
“That *thing* is not my dog!”
Declan contemplated the oversized puppy. “Obviously an escapee from Dav’s,” he commented. “But her father must have been Zero. She looks just like him.”
Sey gritted his teeth and counted to ten. “*She* is a *he*, Dec, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Declan started to laugh again. “I won’t even ask why you’re so sure of that, baby.”
Sey glared at his lover. “He was licking me, Dec, not—arghhh!” With that, Sey buried his head under his pillow, the rest of him remaining uncovered. As hiding places went, this one had its shortcomings.
All at once Declan bent his head to hover over Sey’s back. Sey’s muscles rippled, reacting to the touch of Declan’s long red hair. He smiled and pressed a kiss to the same place that the puppy licked so enthusiastically. “Hey, tell that animal to go away!” Sey said, his voice muffled by the pillow.
When Declan rubbed his cheek against Sey’s thigh, however, Sey jumped, sending the pillow to the floor. “What is *that*?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.
Declan chuckled, gesturing at his still unshaven face. “Shaving cream, Sey.”
Sey leaned on his elbow, managing to completely ignore the fact that he was naked. “Y’know, one kiss isn’t going to cut it, Dec. You owe me some *major* sucking up.”
A strange glint entered Declan’s pale grey eyes, turning them to molten silver. “That…can be arranged.”
***
When they pulled up in front of the bookstore an hour later, Sey was still muttering about being woken up by a *dog*, of all things, when he fitted the key into the lock of the door.
Turning to face Declan, he said, “Don’t forget. It’s Saturday. I’m closing early today. Try not to be too long at the U, okay? Love you.” He raised his face to Declan’s for a goodbye kiss.
But Declan pulled him closer, aligning their bodies so tightly together that Sey could feel every bit of Declan’s arousal. Their mouths met and merged, and that was the very term to describe their coming together, for that was what it was, a merging, a union of two halves of the same whole. It was a restoration of the very best that they could be—together.
Brushing Sey’s nose with his lips, Declan reluctantly pulled away again, whispering, “I love you, too.”
As they parted, Declan vowed that he would be back as soon as possible. “Don’t work too hard, baby.”
“Same to you. I mean, I wouldn’t want you to wear out anything I might need later on,” he quipped with a whimsical smile.
***
When Declan returned to the bookstore, it was a mere three hours later. He had called in a favor or two, claiming that he didn’t feel well, and he made it back to the Arcadia well before closing time.
Greeting his lover with a look of longing and a heartfelt kiss, Declan asked if there were anything he could do to help. Glancing quickly at the remaining customer, who waited patiently at the other end of the store, Sey replied, “Could you make sure that the back door is locked? After I take care of this customer, I just have to run the receipts and then we can go home.”
Declan nodded, eager to do whatever he could to get his lover in bed that much sooner. Once the customer was gone, Declan pondered what else he could do to expedite things. Sey pushed a button on the cash register and it began to add up the totals for the day. His mind wandering, he didn’t really notice that another customer had entered until it was too late to claim that the bookstore was officially closed.
Resisting the desire to gnash his teeth and curse, Sey politely inquired, “Is there something that I can help you with, ma’am?”
“I’m looking for a book for my son. He’s—uh—about your age, I think.”
“What kind of book? What kinds of things does he like?”
“Oh, that’s an easy one. He’s crazy about motorcycles.”
“I see. How about this one?” He held up the newly released “Guide to Harley-Davidson and other Road Warrior Stories” for her perusal, trying not to sigh audibly as he mentally catalogued how many minutes it would take her to make up her mind.
That was when he felt it. A tug on his jeans leg. He refused to look down. He could sense Declan down there, hidden under the counter where no one could see. Drifting off on a wave of fatigue, Sey covered his mouth as he yawned, a movement suddenly cut off sharply by the sensation of Declan’s long slender fingers moving up the inside of his thigh.
“Jeez!”
The woman studying the book glanced at Sey curiously. “Did you say something?”
Sey wrenched himself under control with a visible effort. “Um, no. No, I—no.”
The woman raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. A few moments later, Sey uttered another strangled cry as Declan unzipped his jeans and quietly eased his already-swollen member free of its former confines. The woman blinked. “You look rather flushed. Perhaps you’re running a fever,” she offered.
“I-I do feel kinda h-hot,” Sey admitted. I’m going to Hell. I’m going to Hell for sure, but Dec’s gonna be right behind me, if I have anything to say about it.
When Declan took Sey in his mouth, however, Sey almost slammed the cash register drawer shut on his fingers. “I-I’m sorry. Have you decided whether or not you want the book?”
The woman shook her head. “Could I have a few more minutes?”
Sey looked like a man going under for the third time. “Sorry, but we’re all out of time,” he said, a bit more brusquely than he would have liked. Leaning forward, he said conspiratorially to the woman, “Truth is, I have a date. You understand how it is.”
Yow! He certainly did. My, what sharp teeth Declan had. “Not-not a date, actually. An appointment.”
“An appointment?”
“Someplace I *have* to be,” he said emphatically, rewarded immediately by the warm, silken feel of Declan’s tongue on his skin.
The woman smiled. As if she understood. As if. She didn’t have a deranged man sliding his deliciously wet tongue into—oh, my God!
“I’ll take it.”
“Me, too,” Sey said dreamily.
The woman coughed. “I mean, I’ll just ring that up for you.”
There was a tense silence for the few minutes it took Sey’s trembling hands to calculate the amount due and accept the woman’s payment. “Thank you,” he said as he handed her the package.
The moment that the woman left, Sey whirled around, almost dislodging Declan from his place at Sey’s feet. “What are you *doing*?”
“Sucking up?” Declan asked cheerfully.
Heat suffused Sey’s face, his dark eyes glittering. “No,” he said, pulling on Declan’s shoulders until he rose.
Sey wrapped his arms around Declan, twining both hands through his magnificent red hair. With one tug, he had Declan right where he wanted him. Flush against his aroused body. Bracing himself against the counter, he spread his legs, feeling the cloth of Declan’s jeans abrade his most tender skin.
He dove at Declan’s mouth, kissing him again and again until they were both breathless. When they finally broke apart, Declan caught his breath at the look in Sey’s eyes. “Think I should lock the door?”
Sey held the look as long as he could, then buried his face against Declan’s neck. “God, I love you.”
Declan rested his chin on the top of his lover’s head and closed his eyes. “Maybe we could just stay like this.”
“Sometimes you get me so hot,” Sey whispered, his breath ruffling the curling tendrils of Declan’s hair. “And then, suddenly, it’s not about sex at all anymore. How do you do that?”
Declan slid his hands under Sey’s shirt, effectively pulling it out of his jeans. Running his hands over his partner’s chest, he leaned close and kissed him. “I don’t do it alone, acushla. We do it *together*.”
“Always, Dec?”
“And forever.”
“This isn’t so bad.”
Jazz cocked his head attentively at Adam, giving him a crooked smile. “It’s not?” he asked, gesturing at the small group of five-year olds playing on the Samuelle back lawn.
Adam shrugged. “Well, it doesn’t suck.”
Jazz chuckled. “So the great and all-powerful Adam doesn’t mind taking a turn at babysitting the brats, huh?”
Adam pretended to be outraged. “Hey, watch who you’re calling brats! Some of them are related to me!”
"And you, of course, are the worst brat of all, man,” Jazz said with a laugh.
The two teenagers sat on the back lawn, a comfortable distance apart, their hands outstretched towards one another. Every now and then, Adam would reach out and graze the back of Jazz’ hand with his fingertips, and Jazz would sigh. Sometimes it wasn’t enough. But it would have to do for now.
Adam shielded his eyes and looked over the children. Now squabbling vociferously, Luc and Jago were evidently at odds with each other today. Wondering if he needed to intervene, Adam was just beginning to stand up when he felt the gentle tug on his sleeve. “What?”
“Let them settle it themselves.”
“But they look like they’re going to kill each other. Trust me, my life would be seriously over if anything happened to Luc.” Adam’s tone was blithe, but he meant every word. If something happened to Luc that Adam could have prevented, he would never survive the guilt.
“They haven’t killed each other yet, man. They’re just testing.”
Adam frowned. “Testing what?”
“The bounds of friendship. Love.” Pause. “*Us*.” That last word came out so huskily that Adam almost thought he misheard it.
Adam’s head snapped around, his breath catching in his throat at the depth of feeling captured in Jazz’ expressive green eyes. “Why us?” he whispered back, sitting down again.
“Why not us?” Jazz countered. All at once Adam wasn’t sure they were still talking about the kids.
Adam’s gaze fell to Jazz’ mouth, a familiar ache settling into his heart and his groin at the same moment. With what seemed to be a seamless series of movements, Adam managed to move closer and brush his mouth against Jazz’ lips. Sparing only a quick glance for the kids, Adam wrapped his arms around Jazz, hugging him as hard as he could.
“Hey!” Jazz protested, albeit weakly. Any time that Adam actually permitted himself to touch him, he was grateful for.
“Sorry,” Adam murmured. But he wasn’t. He loved touching Jazz. His skin was smooth, but well-muscled, a curious mixture of beauty and strength.
“Don’t be,” Jazz replied shyly. “I liked it.”
Adam groaned and pulled the younger adolescent into another hug. He nuzzled the side of Jazz’ face, kissing the stud that decorated his earlobe. “Oh, God, Nicky,” he whispered, unable to put into words what he wanted to say.
Jazz melted. To hear his real name on Adam’s lips brought him right to the brink. Breathing raggedly, he struggled to remain in control. Adam’s mouth in such close proximity wasn’t helping. “Um…oops! Hormone city, man. Better let me go.”
Adam drew back, seeing for himself what his most casual of caresses had wrought. Jazz’ face was flushed, his mouth parted expectantly. Shaking his head, he combed his fingers through Jazz’ long golden brown hair. “Maybe we could—“
Jazz could have wept at the irony. For once, Adam was weakening. Now it was Jazz’ turn to be strong. God, that hurt.
“No, we couldn’t,” he said, his bright green eyes apologetic.
Adam began to shift away, as if stung, but Jazz held him fast. “I want you, Adam. Hell, I’d be all over you in a heartbeat, if you’d let me. But—you’d hate yourself for giving in, and then—you’d hate me.” Jazz bit his lip. “And I just couldn’t stand that, man.”
Adam closed his eyes. “I understand.”
“Do you? I hope you do. Cause I really—um—want to be with you. More than anything. But I kinda made this promise to Pete.”
“Pete?”
“You know, Smoke. I owe him a lot, man. If he hadn’t gotten me off the streets when he did... I guess what I’m trying to say is—he gave me a home and—I owe him my life, man. “
“I don’t want to disappoint Dad either,” Adam said softly.
Jazz sighed. “It’s still hard, though.”
A tiny smile quirked at the corners of Adam’s mouth. “You have no idea.”
His arm slipping about the younger teenager’s neck, Adam drew him close and kissed him almost reverently. His face buried in Jazz’ hair, he whispered, “I love you, Nicky.”
At Jazz’ unexpected gasp, Adam pulled back just enough to look intently into his eyes. “What? You didn’t know?”
How could he explain that he knew and yet he didn’t, *couldn’t* know? His worth as a human being was inextricably tied to what other people thought of him. For someone to actually *love* him was…what finding the Holy Grail would be to a crusading knight.
Shaken, all Jazz could do was look helplessly at Adam.
***
Nikita picked that moment to come by, ostensibly to check on the younger children, but Adam had to wonder if she was really checking up on him and Jazz. “Hi, guys. Everything okay over here?”
Adam dropped the hand that clung to the back of Jazz’ neck, surprised that he felt as though he’d been caught in the act of doing something wrong. “Sure. Why do you ask?”
Nikita considered that for a moment before continuing. “Things just looked a little…intense…that’s all. Are you two okay?”
Feeling a strange compulsion to tell Nikita anything and everything, Adam blurted out, “I kissed him, okay? More than once.”
Nikita smiled kindly at the young man she claimed as yet another son. “So…did you like it?”
Adam blinked. Wasn’t there anything that honestly surprised Nikita?
“Guess you did, then. If you did it more than once,” she echoed Adam’s last words.
As if in a daze, Adam said, “Might even do it again.”
Nikita nodded. “As long as it doesn’t go any further,” she said firmly. Ah, Adam thought, so there is a line drawn somewhere. He didn’t know why, but he found that vaguely reassuring.
“I wouldn’t. Promised Dad.”
She looked pleased. As if Adam’s wanting to abide by his father’s wishes somehow took on new significance.
Changing the subject, she asked, “How are the kids?”
Jazz smiled brightly and chirped, “Oh, you know, the usual. Trying to kill each other one minute, best friends the next.”
“Yeah.” She brushed back her long pale hair with one hand. “There’s a lot of that going around.”
“You guys be good,” she said, drifting off to talk to Luc.
***
Adam idly traced the fading bruise on Jazz’ cheek. “Looks like this is finally getting better.”
Jazz grasped Adam’s hand in his, bringing it to his mouth to kiss the palm. “I—“
Suddenly Adam moved in to kiss Jazz’ bruised cheek. “We’d better gather the kids together for dinner.”
Jazz gave Adam a slightly pained look. “Can you handle them alone? I need to go home.”
Adam looked taken aback. “I thought you were staying for dinner. Is something wrong?”
“I am. I just need to—“
“Need to what?” Adam was starting to fear the worst. He knew that Jazz loved him. He needed no further convincing of that. And yet, the younger teen looked distinctly uncomfortable.
“Need to change my clothes,” he whispered almost inaudibly.
“What?”
“I—you—unhhh….” Jazz abruptly stood up and Adam followed him, solicitously touching him until Jazz brushed his hands away. “Please—“
Wishing there was a nice big hole to crawl into, Jazz stammered out, without looking once at Adam, “When you kissed me—and-and—told me you loved me—I-uh—“
Adam looked incredulous for all of five seconds, then resisted the urge to cheer. On the pretense of hugging him, Adam surreptitiously kissed Jazz’ ear and neck, pushing his hair out of the way. “You came on the strength of a kiss?” he whispered into his ear.
“Not just the kiss,” Jazz said hoarsely. “That you—I mean—“
“That I love you? Oh, God, Nicky, I do. I swear.”
Sighing, he reluctantly released the younger adolescent. “Don’t be gone too long.”
Jazz waved over his shoulder as he walked away.
Life was starting to look up in a big way.