Geography of Murder (31 page)

"I must be sick. I need it too much. I need
you
too much.

You're worse than any drug I ever tried. I have to quit you just like I have to quit all the junk."

"Jason—"

"Please go away, Alex. I don't want to talk to you anymore." He turned over on his side and wouldn't look at me again.

I stared at his back for a long time. Outside in the corridor a dinner cart rolled along. Someone came in, nodded a greeting at me and collected his uneaten lunch. He never turned over. I don't know if he was awake or asleep.

After a while, I left.

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300

Geography of Murder

by P. A. Brown

When the knock came I looked up from my books,
almost obscuring the big
Audubon: The Birds of

America
book that always held center place on my
table. Crossing the narrow space to my tiny West
Hollywood apartment door I wondered who would be
calling on me this time of night. Harvey, my sponsor?

We hadn't talked in a couple of days, so maybe he was
checking up on me. Harvey trusted me, but trust and
ex-addicts are seldom a good combination.

I grabbed a shirt off the sofa and pulled it on as I threw the door open.

Alex stood on the other side, hand raised to knock again.

He frowned at me.

"Jesus, Jason, don't you know better than to open a door without knowing who's on the other side?"

I leaned against the doorjamb, weak-kneed, the hands that had been doing up buttons stilled. Hungrily I studied him. He looked unchanged. No, I take that back. He had changed. He looked better than he ever had. Hot, sexy and solid as a granite wall. I don't know how many times I had dreamed of him. Had wanted him to come. Now here he was, and it still seemed like a dream.

"You came all the way down here to tell me off about my security problems?"

Alex rubbed the back of his close-cropped head. He glanced at my head, where my own hair had grown back, 301

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though I still kept it short. It was easier now that my days were full of real things to do. "No," he said softly. "I ... can I come in?"

I stepped aside to let him pass. Hastily I finished buttoning my shirt. The last thing I wanted was to be half naked around Alex.

"Drink?" I asked, determined to be distant but polite.

"Coffee? Ice tea? Sorry, no booze. But I've got a decent coffee maker now."

He gave me a sharp, probing look. I offered him a brisk nod in return, acknowledging I had it because of him.

"Coffee, please," he said.

I went into the kitchen to get the pot on. When I came back he was standing over the table I had vacated, staring down at my textbooks and the notes from class I had been studying. He lingered on the Audubon book he had given me, fingers tracing the outline of the wild turkey on the cover. His gaze came up and met mine. "You're going to school?"

"Started a couple of weeks ago. Getting my GED so I can get in as an undergraduate. Biology. UCLA I hope. Maybe out of state."

"I'm impressed." Was it my imagination or had a shadow of pain crossed his face when I said I might go out of state.

Would that really bother him? I sometimes thought the more distance between us, the better for both of us.

"I think the coffee's ready. Make yourself comfortable," I said softly and fled into the kitchen. When I came back out with two mugs he was sitting on the sofa, one of a couple of pieces of furniture I had picked up from Out of the Closet 302

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thrift stores. He'd taken off his jacket and I stared at the shoulder holster, a reminder of who and what he was. A devil masquerading as one of the good guys. I handed him his coffee and took a seat across from him. A safe distance, I figured, knowing I was lying to myself. No distance was safe enough as long as we were in the same room.

Lastly he stripped off his leather holster, checked the gun and pulled the magazine out. All the while I stared at his muscles moving effortlessly. Even from where I was I could smell the leather, which brought back too many memories.

I swallowed past a sudden obstruction in my throat.

"So," he said. "How have you been?"

"I'm clean," I blurted.

His eyes narrowed and he studied me, assessing me.

Maybe he liked what he saw; he relaxed, offering me a half smile. "How long?"

"Six months. Nine days. Twenty-two hours. But hey, who's counting." I took a hasty sip of scalding coffee. "Day off?"

He shook his head. "I left."

"What?" I thought maybe I had heard him wrong.

Whatever I had expected him to say it wasn't that. "You left?

Left what?"

"The department. Well, right now it's only temporary. I took a leave of absence so I can think about whether I want to stay or not."

"Why? I don't understand. You quit the force?" I was appalled and guilt stabbed at me. Was I to blame for that decision? "Why, Alex? How?"

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"It's not hard," he said dryly. "Funny thing, Lieutenant Garcia has been calling me about cutting my leave short. He's retiring soon, you know. No one knows yet who's going to replace him."

"He must realize how good a cop you are, now that you're gone."

"What do you think, Jason?" He leaned forward, intently staring into my eyes. "Do you think I'm a good cop?"

He wanted my opinion? Did what I think really mean something to him? It never had before. The thought scared me. My mouth hung open. He reached over the coffee table and closed it with a single finger on my chin. He lightly scraped my skin with his fingernail. The heat from his touch scorched a path straight to my groin. I told myself it was only because booze and drugs weren't the only thing I had given up six months ago. I'd been celibate since the night I let Alex walk out of my hospital room. That had been the first of many hard choices I'd had to make before I could start on the road back. I left the hospital soon after, first to my sister's and then on to rehab. The months that had followed had been the hardest I'd ever lived. My sister hadn't been able to change my orientation, but she'd learn to accept that it was who I was and we no longer fought over it. Even my father had sent a card on my last birthday. I knew my sister was responsible for that. Maybe I did have a family after all.

I felt an unwanted heaviness between my legs and a hitch in my chest. I desperately prayed he wouldn't see either. I wasn't ready to give him that level of control again. Liar. I desperately wanted him to take it; to remove the decision 304

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from me. I had only ever felt alive when he was in charge.

Obeying him had given me the greatest joy of my life. Even when I had fought him the hardest, defied him at every turn, I had craved his control. But having learned to live without him, I was content now, wasn't I? Oh, who was I kidding? I didn't need to see him in front of me, larger than life, to feel the electric charge through my hyper-alert body and know the answer to that. I was alive again. Could I really send him away like I had last time? Could I afford not to? Could I live with what he took away from me?

"You still haven't told me why you wanted to quit in the first place," I whispered, afraid of the answer. Praying I wasn't the reason.

"It seemed like it might be time," he said. "Now, I'm not so sure. How have you been, really?"

"F-fine."

"You look good." His fingers traced a lazy path down my chin, brushing my collarbone with the lightest of touches. I jumped.

"Alex."

"I missed you, Jason," he whispered. "Did you miss me?"

I couldn't speak. I could barely breath. Before I could catch it again, he stood up and pulled me up with him.

I sucked in air and tried to pull away from him, my traitorous body clamoring for his touch.

"What ... what do you want, Alex?"

He took my hand and pressed it against the bulge between his legs. He closed his eyes at my touch. The familiar heat poured off him. I licked my lips. Desire sizzled across every 305

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nerve ending. I vibrated with it. I had forgotten how sweet the torture of wanting him was.

"You. I want you."

And I wanted him so bad, my lust must be coming off me in waves. But that way terrified me. The last time I had taken it I had come too close to losing everything. I had crawled out of the gutter, sobered up and detoxed with the help of some new friends and had just started a new life. I wasn't going to fall back into the old one. Not even for the best man and the greatest sex I'd ever experienced.

"I don't think I can do this."

He sat back down and pulled me into his lap, his hand on my hip, his thumb lazily circling over my shivering flesh. He studied my face. Looking for what?

"I'm not in that life anymore," I said. "I need to trust the man who owns me. He has to believe me when I tell him I never touched anyone else—"

"I do believe you. I think I always knew you hadn't, but you got me so mad, I lost it. Please trust me." He put his finger over my lips, his gray eyes flashing behind his glasses.

"You should know, I didn't just take leave from the PD. I quit everything else. I haven't been to the Vault in weeks. I was going to get rid of my toys but I couldn't let them go. They remind me too much of you. But I haven't used them on anyone else. I don't want anyone but you."

"Next you'll be telling me you gave up bondage altogether."

Same lop-sided grin. But he seemed easier with it now.

Then I realized something: he seemed happier than I had 306

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ever seen him. "Not a chance," he said. "Some things I can't give up. You're one of them. I've been waiting for you."

"Why did you take so long to come back?"

"I was scared. What if you said, get lost again?" He stroked my cheek. I shivered under his touch, leaning into him. "Can't you trust me a little when I say it's you I want?"

I wanted to believe him. But could I? An out of control Spider was a dangerous thing. If he let that happen again it would kill me—and I don't mean in a real sense. An enraged Spider might do many things, but kill someone wasn't one of them. But I still knew he could hurt me in ways I might never be able to recover from.

"Let me prove it to you," he said.

He pulled me closer until I was straddling him. His body felt strong, his arms enclosed me in a haven of strength I had never stopped needing. His cock pressed against my belly.

His breath was warm on my face. I surrendered to my need for him, and turned blindly toward his mouth, groaning when his tongue invaded mine. He was gentle at first, but that didn't last. Like a river that had burst its banks he threatened to swallow me. His hands skimmed down my back, folding around my ass and pulling me tighter. I felt the pulse of his cock through my suddenly too tight jeans. I pushed my hands up under his shirt, sliding over his hot skin. Memories flooded me. He shuddered and broke away. He stared up at me with glazed eyes, his mouth opened as he struggled for breath.

When he skimmed my shirt off me, I saw his eyes skate over my hairless chest. I had let the hair on my head grow back, but I still shaved everything else every week. In memory? Or 307

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waiting for the day he came back? Had I just been on hold, waiting for this day? He moaned and bent to take my pierced nipple in his supple mouth, tugging it sharply with his teeth.

One hand skidded down my smooth belly, sending electric shards of desire surging through me.

"So beautiful," he said.

"Bed," I managed to groan. "Over there."

I had a futon on the floor, never getting around to buying a real bed. It hadn't mattered until now. It still didn't. Spider didn't need a bed to make me feel like a king.

He half carried, half dragged me over and lay me down, kneeling beside me on the rumpled sheets. He moved over me, braced on either side of my head on arms that trembled.

His pelvis pressed between the saddle of my thighs. He shackled my wrists with his hands, forcing them over my head, lowering his face and grazing on my open mouth.

"Tell me what you need, Jason. I'll give you anything." His mouth swallowed mine. "Please," he whispered. He released my hands and cradled my face, his thumbs caressing my lips.

I tried to speak, to tell him I wanted his cock up my ass, I wanted him pounding into me. I wanted the pain that so quickly turned to unbearable pleasure. I couldn't speak.

Instead I fumbled with his zipper and reached for him, holding the hot velvet of his cock in my hands, stroking him. I gasped when he shoved my jeans down over my ankles.

"Fuck me," I said.

"Where...?" His voice was little more than a desperate groan. His need was contagious; my nerve endings sang with it.

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I kept a small bedside table where I stored whatever book I was currently reading. It had a single drawer where I kept a small supply of lube and condoms. They might sit there for weeks, in truth had never been used, but I wasn't going to be caught unprepared. I had been tested after my rehab and been pronounced virus free. I never intended to play that deadly game again. I pulled out the lube and a foil wrapped packet and handed it to him.

He took them with shaking hands. In the end I had to open the wrapper while he smeared my ass with warm gel and pushed two fingers inside me. He probed me gently, stroking the spongy tissue inside me. I nearly bit my tongue at the assault on my senses. When he slid his sheathed cock between my ass cheeks I raised my legs over his back, bracing against his rigid shoulders, opening myself up to him.

He grew gentle again, inserting the fat head into my ass, making the first tentative foray past the tight ring of muscle guarding my hole. The first stroke of his cock over my prostate sent my senses into overdrive. I thrust up under him, silently demanding he fill me. Instead he teased me.