Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
Jericho
“Let’s try this again,” I tell him, gripping the punching bag as Skylar shows off his strength and skill for me.
The rubber mats of my basement training floor are the only thing separating us from the cold concrete, but the air between us is thick enough to cut with a fucking knife.
The chemistry we share has only continued to climb since the night we killed Charlie.
Unfortunately, we’re so damn buried in planning our next moves against Franko that there’s no room for anything else.
Every spare second goes to preparing his downfall, leaving zero time to actually explore each other the way I’m dying to.
It’s maddening, having my pretty little porn star right here while we map out an execution.
So far, it’s been all about rushed blow jobs and quick frotting sessions.
Not that I’m really complaining, because I swear the minx is trying to suck my soul out through my dick.
But even so, I can’t help but wonder if we’re truly compatible. He’s known for only topping in his videos, and I have yet to share my own preferences—aside from the brief ramblings in the heat of passion. I don’t want to pop this blissful little bubble between us.
“Again?” Skylar pants. “You can’t be serious.”
Letting go of the punching bag, I move to the center of the ring.
My hands are wrapped in professional black gauze, while Skylar has shed his usual designer clothes and jewelry, wearing nothing but gray sweatpants that ride low on his hips.
He’s sporting the same black hand wraps to protect his knuckles and wrists.
Skylar bounces on the balls of his feet, his body glistening with a fine layer of sweat. I’m pretty sure he ditched his shirt just to drive me wild.
“You’re dropping your shoulder right before impact,” I grunt. “Try it again.”
“Sorry if my form doesn’t quite meet The Cleaner’s military-grade standards. I’m starting to think that maybe I should just stick to my favorite poisons.” Skylar picks up his rag and wipes the sweat from his chest and abs. It’s a slow, seductive show that has my cock throbbing.
“Eyes up here, brute.” Skylar grins.
Fucking Minx.
I never knew training and working out with someone could be this fun. Or challenging.
I tug my leather fighting mitts on and adjust them as he watches me.
“Your form is lazy,” I say, stepping into his space, intentionally crowding him to see how his reflexes handle my proximity. “Again,” I command, loving the way he shivers and reacts to my display of dominance.
He lunges forward, moving with a fluid, terrifying grace that’s more of a dance than brawling. He punches right, left, right, and then he slips. The slap of his wrapped hands hitting my leather mitts echoes in such an enclosed space.
Fuck, he’s fast, but on the fourth strike, his shoulder dips again. I don’t even hesitate. With my right arm, I slip past his defenses and hook it around his waist. I use my heavy bulk to shove him firmly into the padded wall.
The force of the impact steals his breath. I press my full weight against him, pinning him with my hips, and my left forearm locked across his chest. He’s trapped, completely immobilized by my mass, but his pretty brown eyes aren’t filled with fear. They’re blazing. Heated.
His thick hair falls into his face, and my gaze drops to his sensual, plush lips.
“You’re too fucking heavy,” he pants, his chest heaving violently against me. His intoxicating scent of amber wood mixes sinfully with his sweat. It fills my lungs, causing my dick to go hard.
“Think of it as a test. Franko’s men might be just as heavy,” I rumble, my voice rough.
I lean in until my lips are inches from his ear, watching the pulse point in his throat flutter frantically.
“If one of his goons pins you like this, you don’t fight the weight.
You use the friction. Where’s my weapon, Sky? ”
A dark, wicked smirk plays on his lips. “Check your pocket, Jericho.”
My eyes narrow, and I shift my gaze down.
My mouth parts with surprise. Skylar’s hand has somehow silently slipped inside my pocket and has retrieved my tactical folding knife.
His fingers are currently wrapped around the handle, the blade already unfolded and exposed.
If this were a real fight, he could’ve already sliced me open before I even realized he moved.
“You’re too distracted, my handsome brute,” he murmurs, the other hand dipping low to grasp my hard cock. Fuck me. I didn’t even realize how turned on I’d gotten in the scuffle. Skylar slides the blade across my exposed skin just above my hipbone. Blood blooms under the shallow cut.
I hiss, growing impossibly harder. A sudden, electric jolt of awe slams into my ribs. “You little minx,” I growl.
“Don’t pretend you aren’t turned on,” he teases, his voice a breathless, seductive whisper. He tilts his chin up, his mouth dangerously close to mine. Our connection crackles with a potent, urgent longing that makes me consider ditching the plan altogether and succumbing to this primal urge.
Skylar chuckles. “That’s what I thought.”
I lean down, chasing his lips with mine, when Skylar places his hand up to block me. I give him a questioning look. “Who is he?” he whispers, and the air around us suddenly shifts.
Scrunching my face in confusion, I study the vulnerable beauty under me. “Who?” I ask, confused.
“The night we killed Charlie. It was right after the first time we were together, and when you came, you said, ‘You’re nothing like him.’ Do I remind you of someone?”
I suck in a harsh, startled breath. “Did I? I don’t even remember saying it.”
Skylar sighs, pushing me off him as he tries to flee.
“Look,” he says angrily. “If there’s someone else in your life, you need to tell me now before—” I trap him there against the wall, not ready for him to escape.
He’s shown me so much of his life already.
Trusted me. Surely I can trust him with this.
“His name was Aaron,” I start, emphasizing the word was.
His face softens as he realizes what I’m saying.
“We grew up together. He was my first crush. My first love. We were inseparable and had our whole lives ahead of us. Plans. College. Even a house with a fucking white picket fence—like the one that was part of your dream,” I pause, tracing Skylar’s bottom lip with my thumb.
I lean my body against his. Only, I’m not entirely sure if I’m trying to keep him there, or if I’m trying to hold myself up.
“His name was Aaron, and he was also the first person I found dead. Murdered.”
Skylar gasps. “Oh god, Jericho. I’m so sorry. You don’t have to keep telling me.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Let me tell you, please.”
Skylar grips my hips, pulling me harder against him as he nods.
I tell him everything. From the moment we met to the moment his abusive stepfather stole him from me.
The story spills out of me in a heavy, jagged rush, but Skylar doesn’t flinch.
He just locks his arms around me, holding me against his chest like a steady, unbreakable anchor while the worst parts of my past try to drag me under.
“I idolized and worshiped you for years. But there was a moment right after I missed my shot, letting Franko get away, that I realized you kind of look like Aaron. My Aaron. The boy I lost all those years ago. Images of Franko potentially murdering you almost brought me to my knees. You’re nothing like Aaron, and I didn’t know you.
Not like I do now, but even then, I knew I had to save you. ”
The headlights of my car cut through the darkness of the industrial district, illuminating the skeletal remains of an old abandoned factory of some kind. It’s an imposing, rusted cathedral of brick and steel, abandoned back in the nineties.
“Pull up to the left and park,” Skylar says from the passenger seat.
He’s back in his element after spending most of the day uploading solo content to his site.
He’s wearing a dark peacoat that looks entirely too expensive for a wasteland like this.
His signature pendant, which his sister left him, is wrapped around his neck, and he’s twirling it absently between his fingers.
I kill the engine, making the sudden silence of the night amplified. I don’t unbuckle my seatbelt right away. My military-trained brain is already assessing the area, checking the blind spots, mapping the escape routes, and calculating the structural integrity of the building and roof.
“Why are we here, Skylar?” I ask, my hand resting on the steering wheel, but itching for my gun. “I have a lead who might know about Franko’s whereabouts. We don’t really have time for a field trip.”
Skylar turns his head, his brown eyes reflecting in the low glow of the dashboard lights. A wicked smile pulls at his lips. I swear, it’s the look he gives me when he wants me to lose all sense of control. “We have time, brute. There’s something I want to show you.”
He doesn’t wait for me to reply. He steps out of the car, his movements graceful and casual.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, jump out of the car, and follow him into the dark.
We slide through a rusted gap in the corrugated siding. The air inside the factory is freezing, thick with the smell of wet concrete and decay. Water drips from the rafters above. The place looks like it’s straight out of a horror movie.
Skylar saunters ahead of me without a flashlight, weaving past the jagged debris with an easy familiarity.
He leads me up a flight of iron stairs that groan under my weight.
Fucking hell, is this why he teases me about all my muscle in bulk?
I feel like I’m going to cause the damn stairs to collapse from under me.
We reach a narrow, grated catwalk overlooking the factory floor.
Fifty feet below us, I can see cracked concrete, shattered glass, and abandoned machinery.