Chapter 43
Zayne
"I can't believe I forgot that," Frankie says as he watches me open the Snickers bar.
"Forgot what?" I ask before lifting it to my mouth.
That first hit of chocolate melts on my tongue, and I moan at the rush of sugar I know is going to hit me in a few minutes.
"You like sweets after you come."
I roll my head on the headboard, staring at him.
"And you made that assumption when? The one time you made me come when we were younger?" I make sure to add a little levity to my voice.
I told him not to live in the past. The regret we both may feel has no place in our current relationship, despite knowing we'll get around to talking about it eventually.
"Do you really think that the bathroom door in your childhood bedroom made it soundproof?"
Heat rushes up my neck, and I know if it weren't for the bruising on my face, he could watch my cheeks turn pink with embarrassment.
"You never mentioned that you knew what I was doing in there."
"I couldn't talk about what you were doing to me," he says. "Did you think I could confront you after you went and jacked off in the bathroom after I came?"
I swallow a bite of the candy bar and continue to watch his face.
It doesn't take the man much to sink into those old memories, and I haven't seen one recollection that doesn't shade his eyes with the darkness of regret.
"Sounds to me like you owe me a lot of orgasms," I say with a shrug before taking another bite, smiling as I chew.
"I think I can manage that," he says, the darkness fading as he smiles. "You know what I like after an orgasm?"
"TV and silence?" I ask because what he always got after coming was space.
He was quick to zip up and walk out of my room if I didn't tell him we were watching something.
There were times I'd head to the bathroom and take care of myself and find the room empty.
Less often, I'd step back into the room and find him sitting on my bed or desk chair.
Those were the days I knew he was struggling with his parents the most. He wanted to run and get away from me, but going home seemed worse to him.
I still don't know how to feel about being the lesser of two evils for him.
"More orgasms," he says.
I'm grateful he isn't taking my bait. That conversation is much too heavy to have right after the best sex of my life.
"That can be arranged," I assure him. "Want to extend our stay?"
He shakes his head, but that question is just the first one in a series that I need answers to.
"No," he says without hesitation. "The first flight we can get on in the morning is the one I want. I want to get back home."
"I'll email Casper," I say. "I want to be home, too."
"Is the other one for me?" he asks, pointing to the second candy bar on the side table.
I look at it with longing, making him laugh, but I reach for it and hand it over.
Maybe if he's distracted with chocolate and peanuts, he's more likely to answer the questions that I have.
"What does that look like?" I ask the second he takes his first bite.
He chews, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. "What?"
"Going home."
"A plane ride, I imagine. I don't think you're up for a road trip just yet."
I resist the urge to clench my back teeth in frustration, but the look on his face tells me that he's not trying to be obtuse.
"Not how we get there, I mean, being home... together."
"Logistically?" he asks, sounding no less confused.
"What will we tell people?"
"Do you think we have to explain ourselves?" he asks, taking another bite.
"I don't think we're going to be sequestered into a room with Hemlock demanding to know what our intentions are for each other," I say. "I'm asking how we handle it."
He thinks for a minute, and I refuse to get distracted by the way his tongue snakes out, seeking a tiny remnant of chocolate on his upper lip, no matter how the sight of it affects my body.
I look away, hating that the sound of his chuckle makes it very clear that he not only read me right but is also so aware of how he controls my reactions.
"I think that answers the question," he says, his voice low and full of promises.
I look back in his direction. "Excuse me?"
I try for an indignant tone, but the words squeak out when I see his teeth digging into his lower lip.
"Do you want to hide it?" he asks. "Because if that's the case, we can't even be in the same room together. You can't control yourself around me."
I glare at him. "I can, too!"
He tilts his head, a look of doubt on his face.
"This is different," I assure him with a wave of my hand to indicate the room. "You're shirtless, and I'm full of your cum. It changes things."
He licks at those perfect fucking lips of his. "Do you think there will be many days when you aren't full of my cum?"
My cock kicks, and he laughs again when I pull the blanket up higher on my hips.
"Besides," he says, pausing to speak just before popping the last of his candy bar in his mouth. "I'm pretty sure everyone already knows."
"Because of the audio recordings in the house?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "Casper assures me he's the only one who heard, and that he turned it off when he realized what was happening."
"He's not the gossiping type?"
"I can't say he wouldn't chatter about some things while waiting for the coffee pot to fill in the mornings, but I don't think that's something he'd share with anyone in the group," he explains. "I wasn't exactly very professional when we went into that dungeon and found you."
"I don't remember all of it."
"I wish you didn't remember any of it," he mutters.
"Tell me," I insist.
"I dropped to my knees and cupped your face," he begins. "I reacted like a lover, not a teammate. Anyone who was paying attention could probably see that there was more there than concern."
"I hate that I don't remember that part," I say.
"You don't seem convinced," he prods, reading my mood in a way that should concern me, but somehow it doesn't.
"You acted like you were concerned for me when I got back to the house, but there was no affection," I remind him. "I didn't know where I stood with you. I figured you were back in the we're-just-friends mode."
He pulls in a deep breath, releasing it on a sigh. "I couldn't get past the anger with myself for putting you in that situation. I feel responsible for every bruise. I figured you'd hate me after what I let happen to you."
"First," I begin, wincing when I shift to face him a little better.
"See?" he says. "Still in pain, and I—"
"You know better than to blame yourself for the choices other people make," I interrupt. "You have no control over their actions."
"If I hadn't been touching you-"
"I'm not going to lie and say it was worth it because it sucked all the way around, but we both made choices. I stepped into you. I knew the risks, and I took them anyway. You weren't alone in that."
I hold up my hand to silence him when he opens his mouth to continue arguing.
"Do I think it's a good idea for us to infiltrate another group of bigoted assholes together again? Probably not, but-"
"Do you think I'd let you do it alone?" he growls, pissed at even the idea of something like that.
I raise my eyebrows. "The domineering, do what I say shit is super sexy in the bedroom, Frankie. Don't get me wrong, but that shit will not fly when it comes to work."
"You can't do that shit alone."
"And I won't be, but you can't interfere with what Cerberus asks me to do, and I won't do that with your jobs."
"We'll discuss that later," he says as if time will change my mind.
I pull in a breath, trying to calm myself.
There's something about having the chance to speak my mind without worrying he's going to take off and put another decade between us.
It makes it very difficult to bite my tongue right now, but I also know that until we're faced with an issue to argue about, then there's no sense in arguing about what-ifs right now.
It would only be a waste of time and energy.
I know him well enough to know the argument will be the same on his end when we face it.
"Will we share a room?" I ask, trying to shift gears.
"On our next job? I guess it depends on what we're doing."
I glare at him, watching his face transform with a smile.
The man is fucking with me, and I can't decide if I want to smile right back or grow irritated.
I opt for the grin.
"Do you want to share a room?" he asks, his eyes dipping as if he's uncertain of my answer and preparing himself for disappointment.
"Are we dating or are we together?"
"Together?" he says, making it sound more like a question than an answer.
"Yes," I answer. "We're together."
"So we share a room," he says as if it's that simple.
"Think they will give us two rooms that we can combine and have more space?" I ask with a grin.
"Already needing some distance?"
I shake my head. "Not at all, but there will be times I want you close, but not within arm's reach."
I rush to explain when he looks disappointed.
"I take a while to get my head right after a mission," I begin.
"I don't know how long Cerberus jobs usually take, but the three weeks at that compound were one of the shorter times I've spent in one of those types of places.
It could be completely different now that we're together. I won't know until I'm faced with it."
"That's understandable," he says. "We can always ask about two rooms."
"You don't think anyone there will have a problem with it?"
"Why would they care if we have two rooms together?" he asks. "We'd take up just as much space if we weren't together."
"No," I say, shaking my head. "Will they care that we're together?"
He blinks, thinking on it for a second. "I don't think Kincaid would hire anyone for Cerberus that would have a problem with two men together. Snatch and Itchy are founding members. Kid's son Landon is with Rick. Tug and Max-"
"Okay. I get your point."
"You also don't seem like someone who would care what others think."
"I don't," I assure him. "Not really, but it's hard enough biting my tongue when I'm undercover. I don't want to go home to that same fucking mentality."
"You won't get it from the guys there. I don't know Zero at all, but I can't imagine she would be vetted, discovered to be homophobic, and still brought in," he adds. "It's not what Cerberus stands for, and Kincaid won't tolerate it."
"That's good to know. How do you feel about PDA?"
His lips form a flat line before he speaks, giving me no clue what his answer is going to be. "I'm not going to shy away from your attention or treat you like I don't love you, but I'm also not the type to put my bedroom business on the table for discussion either."
"Good," I say.
"Good? You say that like you feel the same way when you're the one who walked into a room of strangers and announced that we sucked each other's dick in high school."
My cheeks flame with remembered embarrassment.
"Not one of my finer moments," I mutter. "But in my defense, you growled like I had invaded some sacred place."
"Not one of my finer moments either," he mutters. "I'm not going to treat you like a buddy, but I'm not going to pin you to the wall with witnesses either."
I chew the inside of my cheek, debating what his reaction will be to what I have to say next.
"What does that look mean?" he asks before looking down at his empty candy bar wrapper like he wants another one already.
"Jersey and Caitlyn were in the house after you helped me move the bed," I confess. "So I guess technically you would do something like that."
He takes a long moment to work his way through that information. "Technically, I was against the wall that day."
I grin at him, grateful that he isn't stepping back to reevaluate after hearing it.
"Were they really in the house?"
I nod. "I don't think they watched or anything, but they knew what was happening."
He shrugs as if it doesn't matter to him, and that's a huge step in the right direction compared to the boy I knew years and years ago.
"Which house do you want to share a room in?" I ask.
"Mine," he answers quickly. "I know those guys better. I don't think there'll be a problem with the new guys, but I'm more comfortable around the ones I've already connected with. You?"
"I don't care either way," I answer. "I've only spent a couple of nights in my room. Hell, I haven't even unpacked yet. Doesn't matter to me. As long as we're together, we could sleep on the porch."
"Too many bears around that damn place to do that."
"True," I agree.
"Think they'll have these in the vending machine?" he asks, holding up his empty wrapper.
"Those," I say, pointing to the package. "Are a reward."
"So I have to earn it?" he asks, dropping the wrapper to the side table before leaning in and kissing me. "I like that idea."
For a man wanting to head home as soon as possible, he doesn't mind spending the rest of the next day in bed with me, missing all available flights.