Chapter Twenty-Six
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
...and now the whole team is asking for a giant grant for their proposed research on empath sexuality, which apparently will be titled “Empaths: The Modern-Day Incubus.”
EI is NOT funding this.
—INTERNAL MEMORANDUM AT THE EMPATH INITIATIVE
“Psst. Hey. Pretty brainy tough chick. Can you open your eyes? I think I know you.”
Aisha thought she knew that voice too. Her eyelids felt like lead, but she forced them to crack open.
She was on her side, maybe on a bed. Her glasses were digging into her face. Across from her was a big man, and she did know him. He bounced at McFeely’s, and she’d met him a few weeks back on that wild November night, after Agent Nolan had discovered empaths could be corrupted and Grayson had needed a place to stash the agent until they figured out what to do with him.
“Diesel?” she said in confusion.
“I never got your name.” Diesel’s voice was thick, like he was fighting the same drugs she was. “But you don’t forget a girl who brings you a bound and gagged FBI agent the first time you meet.”
She huffed what might have been a laugh in less dire circumstances. “Aisha.” She could see their surroundings now—looked like they were locked in one of the medical cells, like the one Cora had been in. “How are you here?”
“Group of men showed up at the club, didn’t give me a choice,” he said. “That was yesterday—or was it? They keep upping my sedatives, I’ve been out of it since we left Seattle.”
“Shit.” Aisha tried to move her head, but consciousness didn’t want to come easy. “They grabbed you. Why?”
“Because I like empaths. That’s what they said.” Diesel sounded so lost and confused. “That guy with the glasses, Nichols—he said it’s a hard quality to find in a marine.” His arms flexed. “I’ve tried to get up,” he said. “But even with the sedative, they’ve got me zip-tied to the bed.”
“It’s okay.” Aisha had to hold on to hope that Jamey was coming. Jamey would never leave them here. “It’s going to be okay; we’ll make it out—”
An alarm split the laboratory, so loud Aisha flinched.
“Emergency,” said the same flat feminine voice that was used through all of Stone Solutions’ systems. “There has been a security breach. Initiating lockdown mode.”
“Oh shit.” Aisha tried to sit up, then flopped back down to the pillow. “Jamey.”
“Jamey?” Diesel blinked. “As in Detective St. James? She’s here?”
“She wanted to back me up.” Aisha gritted her teeth. “God, I hope she’s okay—”
Her words became a choked gasp of horror as Higgins suddenly appeared, stumbling into the glass wall like a bird smashing a windshield. He was covered in blood, his lab coat torn and stained.
Jamey hadn’t done that.
“Higgins?” Aisha said hoarsely. “What the fuck?”
Higgins drew his head back. And then he smashed it into the glass, headbutting it so hard cracks splintered out across the cell.
“Jesus Christ,” Diesel whispered.
Aisha swallowed. Some of the blood dripping off Higgins was his own, cuts visible on his neck and face. He drew his head back again, aiming for the glass, and she cringed, screwing her eyes shut. There was only one thing she could think of that would make a person attack themselves like that—
“Dr. Higgins,” a new voice said, a tenor that was accented in a Texas drawl like Grayson’s. “You’re killing yourself too fast.”
Aisha’s eyes popped open.
A young man was leaning against the glass wall, and he didn’t just sound like Grayson, he looked just like a shorter version of him, the same blond-brown hair and defined jawline. Aisha had seen a picture of him, long ago.
She felt the color drain out of her face. It couldn’t be. But there was no mistaking Alex Grayson for anyone else.
“This facility has killed a lot of empaths and you’ve been an eager participant,” Alex said to Higgins. “So I’m going to need you to draw your death out. Get creative with how you make yourself suffer.”
“Yes, sir,” Higgins said, and his tone was eager .
He scrambled off down the hall, out of their sight. On the bed across from her, Diesel was watching, expression like he was caught in a fever nightmare. Aisha took deep breaths through her nose as Alex approached the glass.
“You’re not empaths,” he said, in that Texas drawl, casual as if they were meeting at a party somewhere. “Who are you?”
“I’m a bouncer,” said Diesel. “At an empath-themed club.”
“Not the answer I was expecting,” Alex said, eyebrows up. “But truthful. Interesting.”
“Get the sense I shouldn’t lie to you,” Diesel said. “You give me that feeling, you know? Like when you see a scorpion or a black widow, the feeling that says size is irrelevant, do not fuck with this thing .”
“Smart,” Alex said. “You’re also trying to distract me and draw my attention so maybe I won’t hurt anyone else. It won’t work, but it’s brave and chivalrous of you to try.”
Aisha tried to swallow again around her dry throat. “He also used to be a marine,” she said, nodding at Diesel. “I’m a doctor. But I do work for Stone Solutions.”
“Also truthful,” Alex said, nodding. “Two truth-tellers in here, I appreciate that.”
“I’m not stupid enough to lie to a corrupted empath.” She couldn’t seem to stop the trembling in her voice, but then, he’d already be well aware of her fear. “I know who you are. You’re Alex Grayson. And you’re supposed to be dead.”
His gaze swept over her, his eyes the same hazel as Grayson’s behind the glasses. “The only way you’d know who I am is if you’re involved in some morally questionable shit through Stone Solutions. But that’s fine,” he said calmly. “A lot of people like you are dying today. What’s one more—”
“Not them,” another voice cut in.
Aisha’s gaze went to the end of the glass cell. Cora was standing there, dressed in a blue Polaris jumpsuit, her eyes on Alex.
Diesel was staring at Cora in bewilderment. “Cora?” he said, in full recognition, sounding shocked through the sedative. “The hospital said you’d left. Are you okay?”
The veterans’ hospital , Aisha realized. Had Diesel been Cora’s therapy patient, once upon a time?
Alex tilted his head at Cora. “The doctor works for Stone Solutions.”
Cora looked at Diesel, then Aisha. Their eyes met for a split second, then Cora was looking back at Alex. “They both go free.”
Alex looked at Aisha, and it was like being sized up by a tiger deciding whether to eat you. But then he stepped back, away from the glass. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Cora,” Aisha said.
“Detective St. James is here and she’s almost reached this room,” Cora said to Alex, not looking at Aisha. “My last fight with her didn’t go well anyway; let her have these two.”
Aisha tried to sit up. “Cora!”
But Cora and Alex had disappeared.
The tires screeched as Reece pulled the truck up in front of the high-rise, drawing looks from Vancouver pedestrians just as Grayson came sprinting out the high-rise’s front doors. He jumped into the passenger seat and slammed the door so hard the truck rattled. “ Drive , Reece.”
Reece was already pulling away from the curb and back into the thick throng of downtown traffic.
Grayson shifted in the seat. “Did you just forget to use your turn signal?”
“I didn’t forget .” Honks erupted as Reece cut across three lanes to take the first turn. “I have other priorities.”
Grayson’s eyebrows went up. “It’s the law in Canada too.”
“You came barreling out of that building running from two dozen pissed-off office lackeys caught in my anger projection! Getting you away from all of them is my only concern right now.”
Reece jammed his foot on the gas and darted through an opening in the traffic, missing a Skyline by inches as he whipped the truck into an alley. A minute later, they popped out onto the next street.
“Oh.” Grayson didn’t seem to know what to do with that. He sat back in the passenger seat, then immediately sat forward again. “Go straight at this light.”
“I know where I’m going,” said Reece. “Don’t backseat drive.”
“ How do you know where you’re going?”
“I looked at the city maps last night while you were sleeping.”
Grayson turned to stare at him.
“It helps to be familiar with the roads when navigating a city.” Reece barreled through a red light, ignoring the fresh honks as he ran the tires up onto the sidewalk to cut around a line of cars waiting to valet at a hotel. “You can pay more attention to traffic.”
He took the next left, then reached down to the door. A moment later, there was a small chime.
“What did you just do to my truck?” Grayson said.
“Saved my seat position to your memory seats.” Reece glanced over to find Grayson still staring him down. “Don’t give me that look. I saved it to spot two.”
“Oh, spot two , how considerate.”
“Hey now,” said Reece. “I think we can both agree that in this partnership, I own the sarcasm.”
“Yeah? I own the truck .”
“Just think of how much easier this will be for all the times that I’ll be driving,” Reece said breezily, ignoring that. “But make sure you put it back in position one next time you drive, because I think you’re too tall to even get in the truck where I have it right now.”
Grayson sat back, then immediately sat forward again, shifting to put more weight on his left shoulder. “Are you still angry?”
“No.” Reece gave him a tentative smile. “I know the MPGs are bad, but damn, your truck is fun.”
“All right,” Grayson said, a little grudging. “Enjoy yourself.”
Reece took them out of town and onto the highway. They drove in silence for some time, Grayson on his phone, flipping through screens, texting who knew what to who knew who as the city flew by. Eventually, high-rises gave way to smaller buildings and ungodly expensive houses. On their left, the bay was a choppy dark gray under pale gray clouds, the mountains rising out of the ocean into snowcapped peaks.
They passed a sign for a hiking trail, and Grayson suddenly seemed to realize they’d left downtown well behind. “Where exactly are you going?”
“North,” Reece said. “There’s a ferry terminal—I figured that was a good place to be while we plan our next step in the investigation.”
“The investigation I said you weren’t coming on,” Grayson said.
“But then you handed me the truck keys,” Reece said. “So I’m calling the shots now. I’m taking us to the ferry and I’m afraid you’re just going to have to sit there and look pretty.”
Grayson might not have feelings, but he sure could communicate the flattest looks Reece had ever seen.
“You’re really good at looking pretty,” Reece said sweetly.
Grayson sat back in his seat with some force. Then he immediately sat up again, and Reece thought he heard the smallest hiss of breath.
“Wait—are you hurt?”
Grayson shifted. “Define hurt .”
“Jesus Christ, Evan.” Reece put his turn signal on to move into the far-right lane.
“What’re you doing?”
“What do you think I’m doin’ ? I’m looking for a place to pull over so I can see how badly you’re injured.”
Grayson huffed. “I’m sure it’s fine—”
“No.” Reece cut him off, holding up a warning finger. “Don’t even think about trying that macho bullshit with me.”
“But it’s not worth you getting upset—”
“Stop telling me what you are and aren’t worth,” Reece snapped. “And I am an empath in a truck with a hurt person. I haven’t begun to get upset.”
“But, Reece—”
“Would you stop arguing ? Just sit back, shut up, and let the empath show you some goddamn fucking empathy.”
Grayson opened his mouth.
“Try me,” Reece said warningly.
Grayson shut his mouth.
The road was curving, and Reece could see a small turnoff onto the forested mountainside. Under a Do Not Enter symbol, a sign read Emergency Vehicles Only . Reece took it without hesitation.
Grayson glanced around them. “We’re not allowed on this road.”
“You think I care about driving laws when you’re hurt?”
“Empaths,” Grayson muttered.
The service road backtracked south from the highway, through thick trees up the side of the mountain. There was a spur off the road, not quite a real shoulder but wide enough for a vehicle. Reece pulled into it and looked around, but there were no other cars to be seen. He put the truck in Park but left it running and the heat on as he turned to face Grayson. “Where are you hurt?”
“My back,” Grayson grudgingly admitted.
Reece frowned. “Can you recline your seat a little? And twist?” He got up on his knees on the driver’s seat as Grayson started moving, and then Reece caught sight of his shoulder. “Fuck.”
“What?”
There were spots of dull red on the back of Grayson’s sweater, soaked through the fabric.
Reece took a breath through his nose, his heart rate speeding up. “Blood.” It came out too high, too tight, and he was lightheaded now. He winced. “Fuck,” he said again, clenching his jaw. “What kind of empath am I? I hate this about myself, I hate it. You’re hurt, and you need help, and all I can do is panic about how much pain you’re in when I need to do something about it—”
“Hey.” Grayson flipped back around to face him, probably not-accidentally hiding the bloodstains again. “You’re a good empath, that’s the kind of empath you are.”
“But other empaths can help with pain, can be therapists, can work in the ER—”
“Empaths are allowed to be different from each other, just like everyone else. They can have different ways of showing their—” Grayson cleared his throat “—goddamn fucking empathy.”
Reece groaned, covering his face and finding his skin clammy with sweat under his bare hand.
“Care Bear, it’s fine.”
“It isn’t ,” Reece said into his hand.
“I told you, your empathy is overwhelmingly strong,” Grayson said. “It makes the anxiety worse. It’s not your fault.”
“And now you’re injured but having to comfort me .”
“I’m just gonna hop in the backseat for a moment.” He could hear Grayson opening the glove box. “I got the first aid kit; I can take care of this cut and change my shirt so you don’t have to see the blood. It’ll take five minutes, tops.”
Reece sat on his knees, miserably chewing on the tip of his thumb as he watched Grayson climb out of the passenger door and get in the truck’s backseat, crawling across the long bench and into the more spacious area behind Reece’s seat, which was admittedly much farther forward than the passenger seat Grayson had been sitting in.
He was definitely moving gingerly. How deep was he cut? He wasn’t going to be able to adequately clean and bandage a wound on his back. It could get infected and Grayson would be in even more pain and it would be all Reece’s fault for not having the goddam fucking empathy to be there the way Grayson needed him.
He pulled his thumb away from his teeth.
No. No, fuck that.
“Where’re you going?” he heard Grayson ask, as Reece left the engine running for heat, and opened his door and jumped down from the driver’s side.
Reece slammed the driver’s door and walked around to the passenger side, then opened the backseat door. “I’m coming to help you.”
Grayson had already stripped off his sweater and the T-shirt he’d had underneath. He still had them in hand, holding them against his left shoulder and that side of his bare chest in an awkward way.
Reece made a spinning motion with his hand. “Turn around.”
“Reece—”
“Not even you can properly bandage up your own back,” Reece said stubbornly. He took a breath. “I can do this.”
He paused.
Grayson eyed him. “No flinch?”
“No lie.” Reece’s own chest immediately felt lighter. “I can do this, I really believe I can do this, I can help you,” he said, relief flooding him. “Turn around.”
Grayson’s gaze lingered for a moment. Then he did turn around.
The late afternoon light through the truck’s many windows was soft against Grayson’s skin, lighting the jagged, bloody line that crossed his right shoulder blade. It was a mix of brown where the blood had dried and bright red where it still seeped from a wound. Reece took a breath, held it, and then blew it out. His blood pressure was high, but his stomach wasn’t roiling and his head felt normal. He wasn’t going to throw up or pass out.
“Is it bad?” Grayson asked.
“It’s not good ,” said Reece. “But maybe if we bandage it up, you won’t need stitches or anything.” He reached out automatically, then paused at the sight of his own bare fingers. “I wish I could touch you,” he said quietly. “I wish I could take your pain away.”
Grayson glanced over his shoulder. “You’re gonna handle this with a first aid kit instead of empathy. That’s still gonna help.”
“I hope so.” Reece got the kit out of the bag, grabbing disinfecting wipes, antiseptic, and the biggest bandages. Then he pulled his gloves out of his own new backpack, because he wasn’t going to be able to help Grayson if he couldn’t touch him. “Relax your shoulders if you can.”
Grayson finally lowered his hands to his lap, still holding his sweater.
Reece slipped his gloves on. His hands were unsteady as he tore open the packet for a wipe. “I know we have to do this part, but it’s going to hurt you more.”
“You already know I can’t feel any fear about that,” Grayson said. “And I’m not gonna flinch. Pretend you’re cleaning a statue or something.”
“A statue .” Reece scoffed. “I’ll admit you’re sculpted like something out of ancient Rome, but I can feel your warmth from here. Hell, I can smell you.”
Grayson glanced over his shoulder. “I didn’t get that sweaty.”
“Oh my God, you’re so vain,” said Reece. “You smell good . Really, really good. I just want to keep breathing you in,” and okay, whoops, he probably shouldn’t have let that last part slip out. “I’m just saying: stop trying to pretend you’re anything but living. No statue smells like the hot guy in a cologne ad.”
He shifted closer on the bench seat, until they were only maybe a foot apart. With Grayson turned sidewise on the seat so Reece could get to his back, his broad shoulders filled the small space. There was more blood seeping from the cut now, without the shirts to absorb it. Redder, and too vivid against the gray light.
Reece bit his lip. He needed to clean it, but his hands were still shaky and the alcohol in the disinfecting wipe was going to be painful. “Can I...” He hesitated.
“What do you need?”
Somewhere along the line, the emotionless drawl had definitely shifted from unsettling to reassuring. Reece swallowed hard. “This is going to sting. Can I just touch you, like normal touch you, for a moment? Before I have to hurt you?”
His voice was unsteady too, and maybe it was a weird request, but Grayson must have understood because he nodded. “Sure. If you got those gloves on, you can touch me however you want.”
“Give a boy ideas, why don’t you,” Reece muttered under his breath. Grayson shifted slightly, and Reece really needed to remember that super-hearing.
He reached out and carefully ran his fingers over Grayson’s shoulder blade, just above the gash. He traced up and across Grayson’s shoulders, avoiding the cut as he watched the play of muscles beneath his hand.
No, he wasn’t made of stone at all. Jesus, what Reece wouldn’t do to feel the warm, soft skin under his bare fingers. There would be no emotions to feel, but he’d still be touching Grayson.
“Damn, Evan,” he said, trying to keep his tone teasing. “You really aren’t kidding about regularly lifting things that weigh a lot more than me, are you?”
“Nope.”
Was it Reece’s imagination, or had Grayson’s voice changed? Tightened, just a little? Maybe Grayson couldn’t feel the emotion of fear, but his body could still feel the physical sensation of pain, and Reece needed to get it together and take care of that cut.
He reached out, gently as he could, to clean the cut with the disinfecting wipe, his own shoulders so tense they hurt. It had to sting, but true to his word, Grayson didn’t flinch. His steadiness helped Reece’s blood pressure, his breathing slowing and evening out as he wiped away blood.
“It’s not as bad as it looked,” he said with relief. “At least, in my empath opinion, which is decidedly not a medical opinion. But the bleeding seems to be slowing.” He spread antibiotic ointment on the gauze, then carefully put it over the cut, using the gentlest of pressure as he taped the gauze in place.
He leaned in close, running his fingers along the edges of the tape to make sure they were flat. “How’s that feeling?”
“Fine.”
Oh, Grayson’s voice had definitely gone tighter.
Reece glanced up. Grayson’s shoulders were tensed in a way they hadn’t been before he’d treated the cut. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.”
That was clipped and strained even for Grayson. “Did I make it worse?” Reece said worriedly, running his fingers carefully over the area around the cut.
“No,” said Grayson. “Cut’s better. Good job.”
“What good job ? It’s not a good job if you’re still hurt!”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not. ”
“I am . No reason to fret.”
“Of course I’m frettin’ ,” Reece said, hearing his own voice gone higher and more strained. “I’ve never seen you like this. Your voice is all stressed and you’re completely tense—”
“Yes, sugar,” Grayson said, slow and patronizing and still tense. “Because a real cute guy has his mouth right by my neck and his hands all over me. It’s pretty much the opposite of hurt.”
Oh , Reece’s mouth formed. And then the corner of his lips turned up. “So the cut is okay? It’s the—” he cleared his throat “— real cute guy who’s the problem?”
“He’s been a problem since we met,” Grayson muttered.
“Mmm, sounds like he’s a real dick,” Reece said innocently.
“You talking about dicks isn’t gonna help anything.”
Reece’s smile grew. He wasn’t hurting Grayson, he was making him feel good, and that had heat blooming under his collar, spreading through him. Grayson’s body was still taut, but now that Reece knew the cause, he could see what was really happening: muscles tensed not with pain but with anticipation; tiny shifts not away from his hands but toward them; skin not blanched but flushed.
That buzz of want , his permanent companion around Grayson, was growing, layered in his ears over the truck’s engine.
Before he meant to, Reece skimmed his hand up to Grayson’s shoulder, drawing a quiet but audible inhale. “I might be your problem but you’re mine,” he said softly, knowing the words would ghost over the back of Grayson’s neck. “I can’t get through a thought these days without you finding your way into it.”
Grayson’s head tilted almost imperceptibly, like he was welcoming Reece’s breath across his skin.
“And you leaning into my touch isn’t helping me pull my hands away,” Reece said, his voice a little rougher, as he skated his fingers down Grayson’s bicep. “It just makes me wish I could give you everything your body wants.”
He got to see a small shiver run over Grayson. “Dangerous thing to say around an empath hunter, isn’t it?”
“Is that what you are?” Reece said, with mock surprise, as he trailed his fingers back up Grayson’s arm, nice and slow, muscle ridged under his gloves. “Funny how you can conveniently switch between specialist and hunter now.”
“Funny how your lips keep getting closer to my ear.”
Reece smiled again, this time sly. “Do they?” he said, light but pointed. “Or is it that you keep getting closer to my lips?”
He honestly wasn’t sure who was moving closer to whom, or maybe they were being drawn together like magnets, or gravity.
“Does it matter?” Grayson said, barely a whisper. “We’re gonna get the same result if we touch: you out cold, and me reminded why I need that weapon against you.”
The truck was quiet except for the mingled sound of their breaths, and Reece became aware of the tic in his own jaw, the strain of keeping the scant remaining inches intact between his lips and Grayson’s skin.
Inches that had to stay, because there were a million reasons they couldn’t be crossed.
Reece swallowed and forced himself to take his hands off Grayson and pull back. “I’m going to let you turn around.”
Grayson took another audible breath and then nodded.
Reece made enough room for him to move, sitting on his heels as Grayson turned. Grayson rested against the door, facing Reece and backlit by the fogged window. There was a pink flush to his cheeks, hazel eyes bright and focused on Reece. The sweater seemed forgotten in Grayson’s hand and his chest was bare, flushed like his face, and before Reece could stop them, his eyes had followed the planes of his chest down the line of his abs to his jeans, where Reece could see exactly the impact his words and touch had had on Grayson.
“Oh no,” Reece said weakly. “This is worse.”
Grayson opened his mouth.
“Don’t talk,” Reece ordered, forcing his gaze back up to golden hazel eyes. “If you open your mouth and you sound half as wrecked as I feel, I will lose it.”
“I gotta talk,” Grayson said, and fuck , he did sound wrecked. “I gotta talk some sense into you. The title of Reece’s Worst Decision has got some stiff competition, but pretty sure this moment right here would win.”
Reece tried to shake off the shivers Grayson’s deep voice had left on his skin. “You’re not a bad decision,” he said, his own voice deeper too. “And I’m not flinching when I say that, because I’m not lying.”
“You believing it doesn’t make it true. Doesn’t make me good for you.” Grayson sounded unsteady. His breaths seemed to be coming faster than normal. “I’m way too dangerous, Reece.”
“But I’m dangerous too.” Reece barely recognized the sound of his own voice. “Could get more dangerous at any moment. At least you look like what you are. People think empaths are sheep, but you know you and I are both wolves.”
As he spoke, Reece’s gaze again swept over the addictive view of Grayson spread out and shirtless. Grayson’s hand twitched, the one holding the sweater, a tiny movement but like he’d suddenly remembered something. Reece’s gaze darted in the direction the movement would have gone—and he abruptly realized why Grayson had originally had his sweater pressed against his left shoulder, what he’d been hiding before.
“Oh my God.”
Reece was reaching out before he could stop himself. Grayson quickly and gracefully shifted, stretching one long leg out along the floor and the other against the backrest so Reece fit on the narrow bit of seat between them, safely boxed into the space made by Grayson’s legs as he leaned forward.
“This is from the bullet, isn’t it? The one you took for me, at the Seattle marina, to stop me from seeing the death when the snipers killed FBI Agent Nolan.” Reece touched the round scar with gloved fingers, light as he could. “Why the hell were you hiding this?”
“Reece,” Grayson said thickly, “I know your empath feelings are getting riled—”
“You’re damn right my feelings are gettin’ riled .”
“—but I don’t think you understand just how hard having your hands on me makes it to keep my hands to myself—”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Who’s changing the subject ? You’re between my legs, leaning over my dick, and trust me, I don’t need emotions for any of the things you’re making me want—”
“You’re trying to distract me, and A for effort, but I need an answer.” Reece looked up, meeting his eyes. “Why were you hiding this scar from me?”
After a moment, Grayson was the one to look away. “That night was rough for you. A lot of violence and bad discoveries. I didn’t want to make you remember it.”
“Evan.” Reece’s fingers were unsteady where they rested against the scar. “You think I could ever forget what you did?”
“Considering it was minutes after I had cuffs on you—”
“Don’t try to shrug this off like it’s no big deal when it’s the biggest deal,” Reece said heatedly. “You got this scar protecting me from corruption. You took a bullet for me .”
“You believed saving my life was worth more than your freedom.” Grayson’s soft, deep drawl carried through the truck. “A bullet was more than worth a chance to save your heart.”
Reece’s hand was trembling now. “And you say I make bad decisions,” he said hoarsely.
Grayson met his eyes again, and for a split second Reece could almost imagine he’d seen a flash of courage and steel, a glimpse of the man Grayson had once been. “That wasn’t a bad decision.”
“Neither is this.” Reece put both his hands on Grayson’s chest. “Neither are you .”
Grayson’s arms twitched, like he’d had to stop himself from putting them around Reece. He could feel Grayson’s heartbeat, strong beneath his hand. His own body was burning hotter and higher, heat rolling out from Reece’s core through his limbs. His empathy was waking up too, the temptation of another person’s pleasure too much to resist.
Reece shifted, just that little bit closer. “Did you notice we’re fogging the windows?”
“ You’re fogging the windows,” Grayson said. “You got any idea what it’s like to have all your empath body heat this close?”
“Why don’t you tell me?” Reece leaned in to brace himself on Grayson’s chest with light pressure. “In fact, why don’t you tell me again how hard I’m making it to keep your hands to yourself?”
Grayson swallowed something that might have been a groan. “I already told you my dick doesn’t need emotions to want you,” he said, low and gravelly. “But try to remember that only one of us is gonna get knocked out if we touch each other.”
“True.” Reece leaned forward an inch. “But try to remember that only one of us is wearing gloves that let him touch the other.”
Grayson’s mouth snapped shut.
“That’s right, sugar .” Reece held up one hand. “You can’t touch. But I can.”
Grayson was staring at his hand. “But you’re gloved. What would an empath get out of that?”
“Don’t tell me you already forgot.” Reece put his hand back on Grayson’s chest, anticipation already threading through him, his own jeans uncomfortably tight. “I get to make you feel good. It’s only literally what my empath fantasies are made of.”
Grayson seemed to be recalculating everything he’d ever known about empaths. He arched, a small movement, but then, he didn’t exactly have much room to move with Reece between his legs. “And I’m supposed to—what, exactly?” He looked up. “Just lie here and let you drive?”
Reece leaned in, bringing their faces closer, still braced against Grayson. “I’m a really good driver,” he said, dropping his hand three suggestive inches lower, onto his stomach and closer to the hard outline filling his jeans.
Grayson’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his gaze flicking over Reece’s face. “Care Bear, your eyes.”
Reece could guess his pupils were huge, over-dilated, as if they could take in every bit of Grayson like light. “Haven’t you seen plenty of empath eyes when the empathy kicks in?”
“Yeah,” Grayson whispered. “But never like this.”
“Like what?” Reece let his hand drop one more inch. “Like one of us is losing his mind thinking of all the ways he’s going to take you apart?”
Grayson’s eyes had gone softer, his gaze on Reece through blond lashes, and the flush on his face had deepened. His chest rose and fell under Reece’s hand with every breath. “Your eyes are pretty,” he said, like a whispered confession. “But tell your empathy it’s wasted on me. There’s nothing to feel.”
Reece leaned in even more, bringing their lips so close together he could imagine the taste of Grayson’s mouth. “How about you let the empath worry about the feelings?”
He felt the ripple in the air as Grayson shivered, and a fresh bolt of desire wove through Reece. He skated his hand down Grayson’s stomach, coming to rest on the waistband of his jeans, and felt Grayson shift again beneath him.
“How about you just focus on letting me make you feel good?” he whispered. “Better yet, let me make you feel the best you’ve ever felt in your damn life. Let me burn this truck up finding every little touch that makes your body pant and sweat.”
“I wish I could kiss you.”
Grayson’s breathy words danced over Reece’s lips as Grayson drew back an inch, like he had surprised himself by saying that.
Reece shifted so his mouth was close to Grayson’s ear instead. “I bet your kiss is addictive,” he whispered, moving his hands to the button on Grayson’s jeans. “Bet you’re unbelievable in bed. Bet you show off your strength, give people the night of their lives.”
He popped open the button and Grayson arched, small and constrained so their bodies didn’t touch beyond Reece’s hand. “Bet you know how to use this,” Reece said into his ear, as he inched the zipper down. Grayson grunted in the back of his throat as Reece’s gloved hand dragged over his hard cock on top of the fabric. “And I was right; it’s big .”
“I’m six-five .” Grayson’s voice was unsteady. “And remember who’s not six-five in this truck.”
“Stop threatening me with good times.” Reece slipped his hand into the open zipper, wrapping gloved fingers around Grayson over whatever briefs or boxers he had on, and the choked-off moan that filled the truck went straight into his bloodstream. “Jesus, the way you’d look with me on your dick. It’d be so fucking tight; I’d make you feel so fucking good you couldn’t talk.”
Grayson’s head fell back against the fogged truck window. “Is this empath dirty talk?”
Reece’s lips curved up. “Damn right it is.”
He lifted his hand just long enough to shove it back down under the elastic band, closing fingers around Grayson’s hard cock. Grayson made the most amazing noise, relief and pleasure and want all wrapped into one.
“This is not a sanctioned use of empath gloves,” Grayson said, his voice cracking.
“I knew something was missing from the owner’s manual.”
Reece ran his fist loosely along his shaft. Grayson made that noise again, and Reece wanted more, more noises, more shivers, more pleasure.
He shifted back on his heels enough that he could watch Grayson’s face, and began to stroke—tighter, slower, tailoring every motion to the symphony of Grayson’s reactions. He didn’t need emotions; he could follow the map in the sounds from Grayson’s mouth, the flush on his cheeks and the fluttering of his lashes, the parting of his lips and the panting of his breath.
He would have given anything to touch him skin-to-skin, to crawl inside him and drink him in. But he wouldn’t have given this up for the world.
Outside the truck, a blue-gray twilight was falling, the impressions of white snow and evergreens beyond the fogged windows fading into the evening. There was the hum of other cars zipping along the highway beyond the trees and the truck’s engine was rumbling still, deep vibrations through the cozy cab, this space they’d carved out for the two of them.
Grayson arched, just an inch, and Reece moved with him, speeding up and watching his eyes squeeze shut, his muscles flex with pleasure.
“You’re close, aren’t you?” Reece whispered, and Grayson groaned. “Fuck, I could come just from watching and listening to you.”
Grayson tilted his head, eyes still tightly closed. “More empath dirty talk.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t a lie.”
“Maybe not.” Grayson opened his eyes. “But I got another idea.”
And Reece’s world was suddenly spinning as Grayson grabbed him by gloved wrists and tumbled him over. Reece’s back hit the bench seat, hands pinned above his head, and then Grayson was balanced over him, big and warm and close.
“Wha—” Reece started helplessly, his brain still buzzing from the manhandling and the closeness.
Grayson let his hands go, and then a moment later, something stroked firmly over his dick.
Reece sucked in a breath as pleasure ricocheted through him and he arched up automatically into the touch. “Holy shit,” he panted, looking down his body. “How—”
“Your empath gloves are made with heavy metals. And here we got a metal zipper.” Grayson ran his thumb up Reece’s hard length again, tracing the zipper, and Reece groaned. His hands scrabbled uselessly against the backseat as Grayson did it again, and again.
Then Grayson was undoing Reece’s jeans with surgical precision, inching the zipper down without ever touching his skin. “Give me your hand.”
“Why—”
Grayson reached for Reece’s gloved hand, covering it with his own bigger one, and lifted their hands together. “’Cause I’m driving now.”
And then he was wrapping Reece’s hand, still enclosed in Grayson’s, around his own dick.
“Fuck.” Reece’s curse rattled off the truck’s windows. “Are you jerking me off with my own hand ?”
“Mine is never gonna fit in your gloves. Consider this stealing your keys. So to speak.”
Grayson used his grip on Reece’s hand to move them both, stroking over Reece’s cock, and Reece’s eyes rolled back. “Holy shit,” he said, panting. “You didn’t have to—I really would’ve—”
“I know,” said Grayson. “Empaths are such givers. And I bet plenty of folks are happy to just take, but you deserve someone who gives right back to you.”
That hit Reece right in the chest. “But—”
“And this is plenty self-serving.” Grayson kept up the pace, controlling Reece’s gloved hand, and fuck, it was good . “You think I’m not aching for you too? Does that empath brain need to hear that touching you makes my dick harder?”
Reece groaned, because maybe he had needed to hear it, and all of it together, from Grayson, made his blood feel like fire.
He fumbled with his free hand until he found Grayson’s dick again. “Fuck,” Grayson breathed, his hand stuttering where it was wrapped around Reece’s, because Reece was completely undoing him and that thought launched Reece precariously close to the edge.
“Swearing?” Reece said, breathing hard as they found a rhythm together. “Where’d your Southern manners go?”
“Hell if I know.” Grayson’s hand sped up, and Reece helplessly arched so far off the bench seat that Grayson had to shift so they didn’t make contact.
“Oh my God, how are we not going to touch?” Reece said, his voice raw. “I want to kiss you stupid, I want to ride your dick, like fuck, you have no idea how bad I want you.”
“I promise I’ve got some idea.”
Grayson looked more wrecked than Reece had ever seen him, adjusting his knee between Reece’s legs on the seat so not even their jeans brushed. He leaned down, filling every inch of Reece’s vision with that broad chest and shoulders, with his flushed face, damp hair sticking to his forehead, hazel eyes gone deep and shiny.
“I can’t believe I ever thought it was hard to look at you,” Reece said, and he might have been babbling. “I can’t get enough now, can’t stop looking.”
Grayson’s face was right by his, their lips an inch apart, breathing each other’s air even while they couldn’t touch. “I can practically taste that empathy, the way it’s pouring off you.”
It was; Reece could feel it escaping him, stronger than it had ever been before, and he couldn’t have reined it in for anything. “I can’t stop it—”
“You don’t have to. You can let it go, with me,” Grayson said, and as that spiraled Reece’s emotions higher, inseparable from the pleasure in his body, he added, “Better hope no one else walks by, though. We ever do this in a city, you’re gonna cause a population boom all by yourself.”
Reece did laugh this time, and how could this person with no emotions make him this happy, make him feel this damn good?
“If we could touch, I’d fucking climb into you, lose my goddamn self, it’d be heaven.” Reece’s mouth was just spilling at this point, too overwhelmed by the closeness and the fire building in his stomach to hold anything back. “I want you so damn much. I’d let you call me Care Bear forever.”
Grayson made some kind of sound, not an emotion, but something with an edge Reece hadn’t heard before. “Reece—”
“Let me make you come,” Reece begged. “Let me watch while you’re touching me, please—Evan, please—”
Grayson twitched, and their lips came so close to brushing that Reece might have actually gotten lightheaded. And then Grayson was coming, body stiffening, and maybe it wasn’t an emotion but that was bliss on his face, Reece could fucking see it—
It was too much. Reece tipped over the edge too, swept up into the undertow of the best orgasm of his life. The truck’s cab blurred then disappeared, and for a moment, he was lost to the flood of pleasure that took over.
He came back to himself to find Grayson still hovering over him, barely inches between them, flushed and sweaty and stunning. And when he spoke, his drawl was the softest rumble, a caress of its own.
“You staying with me, Care Bear?”
And Reece was living moments in duplicate, the words the same ones Grayson had once said to anchor him after a panic attack, now an even sweeter anchor, and Grayson didn’t have emotions but he somehow still had compassion, and it made him the most beautiful thing Reece had ever seen.
“Fuck it,” Reece said out loud, and kissed him.
Time stopped. Grayson’s lips were soft, and so warm, sweet like lip balm with a faint hint of salt from sweat, and he was kissing Reece back .
And Reece’s empathy completely leapt from any semblance of control, lunging for Grayson like Reece could somehow read him with his lips, like it was ready to smash through any wall in its path to get to Grayson’s heart—
And then everything was black.