10. CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 10
Neo
“ L et me say this, Colden.” I pin him with a look that I hope conveys how much I need him to listen. “I’ve thought about that night for years. You should never have been put in a situation that made you uncomfortable. But I did that to you. Being drunk was no excuse. And it screwed up our friendship.”
He opens his mouth, but I talk over him before he has a chance to say anything. “I know you’re Dacker’s friend, and I was just the younger, nerdy brother always hanging around, but you listened to what I had to say. When I told everyone I was going to design something so I could talk to my mom again, you didn’t disregard the idea. Instead, you asked me questions about what that would look like, what kind of technology would be needed. You wanted to know if the technology needed was invented yet. Those questions and being taken seriously were what prompted me from talking about doing it, to actually doing what I said. You saw me as more, even when I was a ten-year-old with fantasy-like ideas. And as I got older, you kept asking thought-provoking questions, kept in touch… like a friend. Maybe…” You liked me more than a friend. The words sound ridiculous even in my head and I clamp my mouth shut. There are some things better left unsaid.
“Are you done?” His mouth quirks up and I swear it’s like there’s a string running from it to my dick because said dick rises with those lopsided lips.
I sigh because I have a feeling this crush will never go away, and sharing a house with him even if it’s only for a day or two is going to be the worst kind of torture. “For now.”
He wipes his palms on his jeans. Jeans I want to remove with my teeth so I can rest my head between the powerful thighs they hug. “First, no apology is needed.” He holds up two fingers. “Second, I’m the one who handled the situation poorly. I should have talked to you. Instead, I ran.”
“What do you mean?” I pluck my shirt from my heating skin and fan it, but the wafting air does nothing to cool the exhilaration his strange admission prompts.
“You’re Dacker’s baby brother.”
Thrill ignites into a flaming burn, and I clench my teeth to keep my anger at a simmer rather than screaming at the big lug that I’m a fucking man with ten fucking patents to my name and months away from defending my fucking doctorate dissertation.
And speaking of fucking… I’ve done plenty of that. Okay, probably not as much as he has because… Even pissed off, I soak him and all his gorgeous tawny skin in, because who knows when I’ll have this opportunity again.
“You know I’m an actual full-grown man, not the scared kid running from bullies.” I bite my lip because I’m definitely running right now. “Present circumstances excluded.”
He spins on the stool so he’s facing me, and I spin with him until his knees are on either side of mine. He licks his lips and his gaze trails up my khaki shorts and the faded college tee hanging on my slender frame. Sexy bedroom eyes bug out. “Is that my shirt?”
“Maybe? I grabbed the first things I found in the drawer.” My cheeks ignite, and I look down at my chest. No need to tell him I dug to the bottom of shirts until I found it. Or that I may or may not have taken it ten years ago and used it to sleep in. Or that once I realized our relationship had devolved to text-only, I tucked it and the fantasy that he could see me as more than Dacker’s little brother into the drawer. It seemed like a healthier decision than pining for someone who would never want me.
“I thought I lost that shirt when we went to Rehoboth after Dacker’s injury.” Gaze glued to the logo on my chest, he absently presses his hand to his stomach.
I lift my shoulders in a shrug, going for nonchalance, but based on the amusement dancing in those chocolate eyes, I’m not sure I hit the mark. “Guess not.”
He leans in, crowding me and I get a nose full of warmth and sweetness, like walking into a bakery. My throat bobs, begging him to press his lips to my Adam’s apple, my collarbone, my nipples, my stomach…
I blink.
Focus.
“Did you steal my shirt, Neo?” The gruff of his voice tickles my skin.
“No?”
“Are you asking me?”
God, I want to kiss that smug smile from his mouth. I sit taller and lift my chin. “No. The way you and Dacker threw your shit everywhere, it’s no wonder our things got mixed together.”
“Yet, you never thought to return it to me?” His thumb brushes the outside of my thigh, and a stilted breath escapes my throat.
I rub the hem of the soft fabric between my finger and thumb. “It’s comfortable. You snooze, you lose.”
“Is that so?” His voice pitches low and his eyes darken.
U-ngh .
If I were anyone else, I’d think he wanted to rip the shirt from my torso and claim me with his mouth, marking me, making me scream until memories of asshole Alexander and every other man I’ve been with were wiped from my brain.
I swallow hard. Okay, that was oddly specific. Get a grip, Neo.
But then he inches closer.
And closer.
My breaths come quicker and I can’t seem to fill my lungs as the hint of pine from his deodorant consumes my senses. The tip of his pink tongue peeks out, whetting the same lips I’ve used as a benchmark to compare every man to. I tilt my head to the right and Colden tilts to the left.
Holy shit. This is happening. I’m going to kiss Colden Frias. Not a sloppy drunk, throwing myself at him kiss, but a kiss he initiates. A kiss he wants.
Buzz.
He jolts back and I topple toward him. He catches me by the shoulders and pushes me back onto the stool.
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
“What is that?” My voice is rough, like being rudely awakened from a deep sleep. Or the beginning of the best sex dream ever.
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
He stands, adjusting his pants while searching for the persistent sound. Finding it, he plucks a flip phone from the plastic yellow bag Bean gave him before we left and flips it open. “What?”
“Hello to you, too.” The cabin is compact, and I can hear Arlo’s cheerful tone as Colden walks back over to where I’m still seated.
Colden grunts, his annoyance apparent in the flat line of his lips, but he stands close enough the heat from his chest seeps through the worn cotton of my shirt, searing my skin. “What do you want?”
“You didn’t call, and I wanted to make sure you two made it.” Arlo’s friendly tone is as casual as checking in with a friend after a coffee date.
Colden’s mouth relaxes and the side dares to tip up. “Yeah, we’re here.” He glances at me, and I try to act like I’m not eavesdropping or cursing Arlo for cock-blocking me by pushing my burrito around my plate. “Let Aunt June and Dacker know we’re safe.”
“Roman’s in place. He’s going to see if he can dig up more about Dr. Lexton. He’s also checking out the roommate.”
That catches my attention and I mouth, “Hendrix?”
Colden nods, but squeezes my shoulder. The simple move reassures me more than it should, and I lean into his touch. “Good. That’s good. Thanks.”
A heavy sigh echoes through the speaker. “Be careful, Colden.”
“Did you find out more?” Every muscle in his fine-ass body stiffens. The tension wafting off him gives me a headache and threatens to take me under.
“We’re still researching, but I’ll send over what I have so far.” Arlo pauses, like he’s weighing what to say next. “This is bigger than we thought.”
“How so?” Colden shifts, so his chest presses to my back like he’s protecting me from what Arlo says next.
“It looks like Delmarva wants Neo, too.”
From behind me, a strong arm wraps around my chest. “Tell me everything.”
“We’re tapped in to all the supervillain chapters participating in the contest. We don’t have details, but there was chatter among the Delmarva chapter about a doctoral student in Boston who could bring them closer to designing holograms. From what we’ve been able to gather, they want the technology to create holograms of world leaders. According to the minutes of their last meeting, they plan on starting small. Local governments, mayors, city counsel members, that kind of thing. Then they’ll infiltrate businesses and larger governments.”
“To what point?” I ask. Slick fear spills through me, thick and oily. On the run from not one villain group, but two, possibly even more.
“Hey, Neo,” Arlo sounds like we’ve run into each other at a party. “How’s the house?”
I pat the arm pinning me and Colden releases his grip, freeing me to spin around and face him. Deep grooves drive his dark brows down and gash his forehead. He hits a button, putting the phone on speaker.
“I’ve only seen the kitchen, but it seems nice. Cozy.” Not wanting to lose control of the conversation like I witnessed earlier, I return to my question. “Why would a supervillain group want to use a hologram to take over governments when they could use their powers?”
He shifts so his thigh rests against my knee. “The chapters tend to be made up of people with subpar powers. Kind of like Arlo and me.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself,” Arlo says. “My power is awesome. I just need to control it better.”
Colden shakes his head as if this isn’t the first time they’ve had the conversation. “ Anyway … They probably don’t have the people or power to do something like that.”
“But if they can trick the public into believing the message they’re hearing is from an elected official or leader of the community, they can create enough chaos and doubt.” My shoulders feel like they’re the resting spot for a herd of elephants. When I started developing the technology, I was young and hadn’t considered the ethics of it. As I got older, I thought I’d figure out the ethics.
“Making it easier to take over and put their own people in power,” Arlo adds.
The strain of the last forty-eight hours hits me. What have I created? The room spins, and I drop my forehead to Colden’s chest. “Right.”
Steady hands circle my back, grounding me. “Thanks, Arlo. Let us know when you find out more.”
“You got it, partner.”
“Trainee.”
“Friend.” Arlo’s teasing tone makes it hard not to smile even when I want to cry.
Colden keeps up the slow circles, bigger, then smaller, then bigger again, on my back as he bickers with Arlo. “Officemate.”
Arlo’s laughter rings through. “Talk to you tomorrow, co-worker.”
“Tomorrow.” I feel Colden’s soft chuckle as much as I hear it.
When he hangs up, I lift my head, but keep the connection by leaving my chin pressed to his chest. “Well, this sucks.”
“We’ll go over everything Arlo sent over.” He removes his hand from my back and with it the cool comfort disappears like water evaporating in the sun. Picking up an empty plate, he places it in the sink, then starts clearing the counter. His movements are stilted. The heat from before Arlo’s call, chilled. “You should get some sleep. I’m not sure what tomorrow will bring, and you’re probably still exhausted.” He wipes his hands on a dish towel, then walks toward a door and opens it. “You can take the room.” He says it all without making eye contact.
And like that, awkwardness blooms between us.
I get up and place my dish in the sink, then follow him. Fatigue folds over me, depleting rational thought and any patience I had. Colden running hot and cold is far more distressing than being drugged and kidnapped, which speaks to what a mess I am. “Where will you sleep?”
“Up there.” He lifts his chin to a loft over the kitchen, which I hadn’t noticed until now.
From where we stand, bookshelves overflowing with books line the walls, but nothing else is visible. “Is there a bed?”
“There’s a comfortable couch.” Remaining in front of the bedroom, he lifts his chin as if he’s daring me to argue.
Challenge accepted.
I rest my fists on my hips and frown at him. It’s bad enough he’s babysitting me. I don’t want him to think I have to be coddled. “You can’t sleep on a couch.”
“I can. I have. And I will.” He widens his stance and shoots me one of his menacing glares.
My jaw twitches at his bossy tone. The intimidation act doesn’t work on me, and I poke his chest with the force of my irritation. “If we’re going to be stuck here for god knows how long, you better figure out how to treat me, because I’m sick of this shit.”
“Excuse me?” He folds his arms over his chest, and I do not notice how his muscles bulge under the cap of his sleeves.
Mirroring him, I cross my spindly arms, which is far less intimidating than muscle man facing me. “I will not excuse you. I’m sick of you running hot, then cold. If you want to treat me like a subject , fine. But don’t act like you’re going to rip off my clothes one minute, only to treat me like I have the plague the next. You’re giving me whiplash.” I grab my duffel back, then spin on my heel and storm to the bedroom. Screw him. He can be uncomfortable. “I have more important things to worry about that your mood swings.”
“Neo.” The pleading tone of my name from his lips is enough to weaken my knees, but I hold strong and don’t turn around until I’m inside the bedroom.
“Good night, Colden.” I keep my response short and business-like. I don’t like being mad. My mom’s death taught me that life’s too short to hold a grudge. And I choose to enjoy life, but sometimes self-preservation wins out.
“Neo…”
I close the door in response. With my back to it, I squeeze my eyes shut and let my head drop back with a light thunk. Confrontations suck. I hate feeling like I’ve upset someone, especially Colden. But the man needs to make up his damn mind.
I drop my bag onto the wooden chair, then peel my shorts off and toss them on top of the bag. My limbs heavy, I crawl onto the white duvet and plop onto my back. Staring at the wooden beams above, I let my mind wonder.
How did I not see Alexander for what he was? And Dr. Lexton? He’s my freaking department chair. Could he really be involved? I’m usually a better judge of character. At least I thought I was. Now… Not so much.
Shutting off my brain is difficult on the best of days, but is near impossible now. So, I go with it and let my mind drift from how to strengthen guardrails in the VirtUal technology to the mounting ethical issues. How Hendrix is handling everything, and the dimple in Colden’s left cheek that only appears with one of his elusive full-on smiles. I wonder how my dad and step-mom are enjoying their cruise. What’s going on between Dacker and Rain. Colden’s shoulders… They look like they could carry all the burdens of the world.
With a groan, I throw my arm over my eyes. Colden isn’t the man I’ve built up in my head, first as a boy, then in his absence.
Yes, he is. He’s grumpy and caring, flawed and perfect, walking sex on a stick and comforting.
A soft knock breaks into my swirling thoughts, but before I can decide if I should pretend to be asleep, the door creaks open.
“What?” Arm still covering my eyes, I spit out the word.
“You’re right.” His hushed voice is intimate, caressing every part of my exposed skin.
Not ready to forgive him for acting like a big, hot jerk, I keep hold of my irritation. “About what?”
A soft chuckle sounds close to my left, but I keep my eyes covered for fear one look at Colden and all his sexiness will have me throwing myself at the man. And I refuse to be that guy. “About everything. My indecisiveness. That you’re in this situation. That I’ve avoided you for so long. Saying you’re the subject when I really want to strip you layer by layer and lick every inch of your body.”
My cock plumps and jumps not only at the words, but at his nearness. Other than my shallow breaths, I remain still, afraid to break whatever alternate reality I’m in. The bed dips, and I wish I was under the covers because there is no hiding my growing erection in the hot pink briefs.
“Treating you like you have the plague, as you say, because taking you down my throat feels like a betrayal of Dacker—”
I bolt to sitting, pulse racing and skin burning, and nearly knock him off the bed. “My brother has nothing to do with us any more than he does with anyone I decide to fuck.”
His jaw jumps. I scoot back as he crowds me, pushing forward as much with his body as with his feral look. My back hits the wrought iron headboard. Arms and knees on either side of my legs, his mouth is centimeters from mine, and his voice dips low. “Don’t talk about fucking other men.”
“Why not?” I lift my chin in defiance even though if he said suck me, I’d have his pants down and dick in my mouth in under three seconds.
“Because, Neo.” Hot lips press to the pulse point on my neck. Stars explode in front of my open eyes and my hips leap, searching for friction. “I want to be the one fucking you.” His tongue swirls over my skin and an eruption of goosebumps explodes over my body. “Or being fucked by you.”
“Colden.” No longer able to keep my hands to myself, needing to touch him, feel his skin, his muscles, every part of him, I dig my hands into his hair. “This can’t be a onetime thing. I can’t do that with you.”
He lifts his head, trapping me in his gaze. “For five years I’ve tried to scrub my memory of that night. And for five years, I could not forget the way your lips tasted or the weight of your arms around my neck.” Colden traces the pad of his thumb across my lower lip. “I promise you, one time will never be enough.”
With that, I grip his hair and tug him to me. He grunts with surprise and loses his balance, but catches himself as I do what I’ve dreamed of doing for more years than I care to count and press my mouth to his waiting lips.
His smile spreads against my mouth and I tense, waiting for him to pull away and tell me I’m not in the right frame of mind to decide if I really want to do this with him. But the tips of cold fingers skim my cheeks, then cup my face as he opens to me, angling my head and delving his tongue into my mouth. Claiming me in a way I never dared dream. Like everything Colden does, he kisses with intensity.
He tastes of guacamole with a hint of coffee. My hands drop from his silky hair and trail over muscled arms and shoulders. Caged between the thighs I’ve ogled since forever, I wiggle my hips, the rough denim skims my skin and I groan into his mouth.
He pulls away and I freeze, bracing myself for excuses. And I swear if he mentions my freaking brother, I’ll knee him in the nuts.
“Take off your shirt,” he growls.
I yank the thing over my head and whip it to the floor. “What about you?”
“You want me to take off my shirt?” Those delectable lips do their delectable quirking, and all too slowly, he peels the white tee up, up, up, revealing inch after gorgeous inch of bronzed skin.
My mouth waters and I lick my lips, praying I don’t have drool dribbling down my chin, because, damn . Brown nipples stand at attention, which doesn’t help the drooling situation, and ridges define his stomach.
“Wow,” I whisper.
“Wow, is right.” He tosses his shirt, and before I can register what’s happening—because apparently my brain goes offline at the sight of a bare-chested Colden—a wet tongue swirls around my nipple right before he pinches it between his teeth.
My head falls back on a moan and I grab hold of his hips. “More.”
“More what?” The heat of his breath hits my chest, and he turns his attention to the other nipple.
Fingers shaking, I find the button of his jeans and undo it. “More everything. I want to taste you.”
“Fuck, Neo.” His words are strained.
His hands join mine and we work together to rid him of his clothing. Pulling his jeans and underwear over his hips, he kicks them off. I take the thick cock jutting from a nest of dark curls in my hand and squeeze before jerking him with languid movements. The tip glistens with a droplet of precum and I wish there was more light so I could see every inch of him in detail. As I scoot down the bed, I catch the droplet with my tongue. Salty deliciousness explodes over my tastebuds, igniting a fever that can only be cooled by tasting more. Flattening my tongue, I run it from base to tip. The concentration of his scent consumes me, flooding my mouth with saliva.
More. More. More. Plays in my head like a chant.
Moans—his, mine—rupture the quiet. Tingles zip through my balls like millions of miniature lightning strikes as I guide him into my mouth. My lips stretch around his girth and I open my throat. I want to close my eyes to savor his taste, his feel, but I can’t tear my gaze from his smooth chest or the tendons in his neck that flex with each breath he sucks in. He reaches behind him and takes hold of my straining cock, nearly annihilating what little control I’m hanging on to.
Mouth staying on him because releasing him after wanting to know what he tastes like for so long, seems like not only the dumbest idea ever but also impossible, I prop pillows behind my head and lay back. He shuffles forward, and I’m enveloped by powerful thighs with coarse hairs tickling the sides of my torso. He tips forward, catching himself with one hand gripping the headboard. “Fuck, Neo.”
I smile around his cock because Fuck, Neo seems to be the only thing he can say. When I pinch his tight ass, his hips jut in surprise and I suck him down further.
“Slow down.” His voice is tight, like he’s trying to restrain himself. But I don’t want restraint. I want him uninhibited. Colden has spent a lifetime holding back. Powers, expectations, emotions, desires, he holds back. And I don’t want him holding back with me.
I shake my head and increase the suction, eliciting more of his salty taste and another groan. The stretch of my lips and ache of my jaw ignite an almost primitive need to take care of him. Smoothing my palms over his rounded globes, I then tease him, trailing a finger down his crack, stopping long enough to tease his hole before trailing upwards again.
“Fuck,” he grits out as his control and hips snap. He pumps into my mouth without an ounce of restraint. I clutch him—probably leaving handprints on his ass—and take everything he gives me. Within seconds, his movements turn jerky and his hand falls from my dick. “I’m close.”
I suck in my cheeks, applying more pressure, running my hands up his torso and take one of those brown discs between my fingertips, giving it a sharp pinch. That’s all it takes. Colden throws his head back and explodes down my throat while ice launches into the air.
Cubes rain down, hitting the pillow, the floor, my forehead, but I swallow every last spurt of him. When there’s nothing left, I lick his softening cock clean, which is easier to focus on than the wonder of his orgasm-drunk eyes. He rolls to the side and collapses next to me.
Seeing Colden Frias, boneless, breathless, and beaming, is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed.
And I want more.