Tequila Mockingbird (21 page)

They’d spent a lot of time on the new couch, watching movies or just talking. He’d licked butter from Forest’s fingers after they’d eaten more than enough popcorn to make them sick, and he’d been fed mint chocolate chip ice cream from a spoon that tasted of the man’s mouth. They’d explored each other’s lips and gently spooned during flashes of storms moving over the neighborhood.

No, Connor was quite fond of the new couch.

It was also where he found a sleeping Forest when Con came home from his last three-day shift, the blond man curled up into a corner of the brown sofa, an old knitted afghan wrapped around his long legs.

Jules was already gone, having been picked up by her boyfriend, Randy, and Connor set down the
banh mi
sandwiches he’d picked up for their dinner. The couch let off the smell of new fabric, where the man smelled of Connor’s soap and fabric softener. Most of Forest’s clothes were ruined, but a few sweats and jeans survived, and Con supplemented the man’s wardrobe with an offer of his own shirts.

Still, seeing Forest curled up on his couch wearing one of his old police academy shirts did funny things to Connor’s insides.

Forest’s enormous brown eyes flickered open when Connor sat down. They were unfocused, his lids heavy with sleep. Connor’d been so good—doing nothing other than touching the man and spending his nights on the new couch, sacrificing his bed and biting his lip as he palmed his own cock to climax. His world became steeped in Forest’s scent, and even the man’s quirky habit of scooping out a spoonful of peanut butter, then slathering it with jam so he could eat it while watching television, made Connor smile.

The blond fought to stay awake when Connor came home, but healing took a lot out of him, and he often nodded off before Connor could shower off the day’s dirt from his body. What little time they’d had was spent together, Forest leaning against him, often falling asleep on Con as he caught up on games he’d missed while working.

The man’s hands were never still, always tapping out a rhythm, sometimes even as he slept, slack-jawed, loose-limbed, and sprawled over Connor’s lap. It was like owning a cat in some ways, Connor thought once as he petted Forest’s soft blond hair. Someone to come home to who was happy to see him but then immediately curled up into a ball and snored whenever Connor offered his lap.

Except for this time—this now—because Forest sat up and pushed the hair from his eyes, smiling sweetly as he rubbed the sleep from his face.

“Hey.” He yawned, catching himself with a hand over his mouth. “Sorry. Shit, it’s late.”

“How’s the head?” Con asked, feeling the top of Forest’s skull.

The man laughed, pushing Con’s fingers away. “That’s not even where it was cracked.”

“Yeah?” he retorted, twisting over Forest’s long body and sliding his still chilled hands up under the man’s borrowed shirt.

Forest yelped and laughed, a hearty, sweet near-giggle. Then he pulled away, burrowing deeper into the couch cushions.

“I brought Vietnamese. Sandwiches, you said you like those.”

“Yeah, I do.” Forest stared up at him—those damnable all-seeing eyes drinking in Connor’s every expression. He bit his lip and then reached for Con’s hand. He pulled it against his stomach, cradling its warmth. “We okay? I mean, you and I? We haven’t talked about anything since—haven’t had time, and I’ve just been fucking sleeping my life away.”

“We’re more than okay,” Connor promised, leaning in to give Forest a gentle, brief kiss. Those were the only kind of caresses he was allowing himself, and he lived for each one, keeping them tallied up in his mind so he could remember them when his day lagged.

“Kiki have any leads? On
anything
?” Forest rubbed at his nose, scratching an itch.

“No, not yet,” Connor admitted. “No one’s seen anything. Biggest problem is that your places there have so many different people coming in and out of them, people don’t know who belongs there or no. And we can’t find a nosy old lady who watches the street with binoculars. Those are mighty handy a lot of times, I tell you. They’re a dying breed. Now they’re all out doing spin classes and the such.”

“Then we’re shit out of luck?”

“No, they’re going through the footage from the bank, and they’ve tapped another feed from down the street. The Canadian couple didn’t see who ripped off their van, but we’re hoping someone else did. Kiki’s arranging for interviews around the motel they were staying at. A lot of it is leg work.”

“I feel like a sitting duck or something.” He was bitter, and Connor didn’t blame him. “Fucking hell.”

“Hey, we’ll find him.” He kissed Forest, gently but insistent. “The bastard’s leaving a trail of dead bodies, and I’m not scared to admit it, but I’d rather you not be one of them. We’re all after this guy. Boys in blue are going to nail his ass. Pissed us off something fierce.”

Forest stared into his eyes, searching for something. Connor was content to let him, enjoying the feel of the man’s hard body against his. His own cock was debating going to a full-blown salute, and from the press of heat he felt on his thigh, it appeared Forest’s dick was of the same opinion.

They kissed again. Deeper, longer, and their bodies rubbed together, creating a lingering friction between them. Connor sighed after a few minutes, wondering if he had the strength to get up off the couch and take a cold shower.

He should have been the reluctant one, the untried man in a game he’d only just joined, but his body seemed to know
exactly
what his heart wanted—what his soul thirsted for. There were times he’d imagined he’d go mad with the
wanting
of Forest, and then there were times when he was certain he already had.

“What are you thinking about?” Forest’s voice was soft, but there was a heat to it, a lingering promise to go with the seductive thrust of his hips as he shifted beneath Connor’s weight.

“I was thinking I should feed you.” Damn if he didn’t want the man. As terrifying as it’d seemed not more than a month ago, Connor
needed
Forest in a way he couldn’t begin to describe. “Are you hungry?”

“Sorta. I don’t want a sandwich,” the blond murmured, reaching up and tangling his fingers into Connor’s hair.

“Sandwiches are what I brought there, boyo,” Connor teased.

“Yeah, they’ll hold. It’s kind of not what I’m hungry for right now.”

“What are you hungry for, then,
a ghra
?” His heart was trying to break its way out of his rib cage, and Con scolded its silliness. He wasn’t some fumbling teenager in the back of his father’s car. He’d
had
sex before. Hell, wet, sloppy sex in places he’d be kicked off the force if someone’d caught him, but bending over Forest, being held in close by a tug of the man’s fingers and having their breath mingle together touched off a chain reaction in Connor’s body he’d never dreamed could happen. “What do you want, then, Forest love?”

Forest dragged him down, forcefully pulling Connor in until their mouths touched, and whispered, “You, Connor. I want you so fucking bad.”

You ever miss living at home, Con?

Fuck no,
a ghra
. You know what it’s like living in a madhouse? I’m fine here with you.

Kinda be cool. You’re never alone, you know?

The shouting. Having to find a free bathroom. Worst part about it? I don’t think I could have sex in my parents’ house. Too odd.

Okay, here it is.

—
Conversations in the Family Room

“Y
OU
SURE
?”
Connor had to whisper, because if he spoke any louder, he’d shatter the crème brûlée sugar sweetness of their kiss. His cock was ready, heavy and ponderous between his legs. The department-issued uniform was made of thick, durable black fabric, but his dick seemed to have plans on breaking right through the weave.

If he’d had any question about being attracted to Forest Ackerman, it was certainly gone now.

Connor tried not to think of all the times he’d had a woman beneath him. Forest deserved better than that, but the comparison was still there—maybe it would always be there, but then, he thought, it didn’t really matter. Not so long as he found pleasure and gave it back tenfold.

And pleasuring Forest was the only thing on Connor’s mind at the moment.

The differences were startling. For some reason, he’d imagined Forest’s skin to be rougher or coarser to the touch. Instead, what he could feel under his shirt was soft, a silken landscape his hands glided across as he reached beneath the cotton fabric.

“Have you seen you?” Forest teased, and Connor groaned in mock anguish. “Shut up. And yeah, like since the first time you walked into the Amp. Maybe even before then.”

“Not here,” Connor muttered. “Not on a damned couch. I want to take you to bed. I want to stretch you out and take my time. If I’m going to do this, I want all of you. Not some fumbling around like we’re waiting for my parents to get home—”

“You were doing pretty good until the parents thing there,” Forest grumbled, but he let himself get pulled up off the sofa. “Good thing you’re sexy, or I’d walk right out. If I had someplace to walk out to.”

“Anyone tell you that you talk too much sometimes? Normally can’t get a damned peep out of you, and now—”

“
Now
I’m nervous,” Forest replied softly. “’Cause this is your first time with a guy, and what if I fuck it up?”

“What if I fuck it up?” Connor turned around, walking down the hall backward and pulling Forest behind him.

They both stumbled on the runner Con bought to keep the dust out of the one downstairs bedroom he’d refinished. He’d told himself he didn’t need to get the master suite done. There’d been no plan on getting someone in bed—not anyone he’d wanted to impress—and now he regretted spending all his damned time on restoring the dining room.

Who the fuck really needed the
dining
room? he thought. He should have spent those hours on turning one of the upstairs bedroom suites into someplace Forest could enjoy.

On second thought, the guy probably would have preferred if the small carriage house on the side lawn was soundproofed and had power so he could hook equipment up—and Connor stopped his mind from wandering into a very dangerous space.

For right now, Connor was intent on stripping Forest bare and finding out exactly what the man looked like under all his clothes.

They made it as far as the bedroom door before Con tore the shirt from Forest’s body. The other man gleamed ivory, with a faint brush of gold under his skin. His nipples were pink, a bright blush of color on his pale chest, but the surprise was the man’s sculpted, lean body and the seemingly endless curves of muscles and flat planes Connor’s mouth itched to taste.

“God, you are so beautiful,” Connor whispered as he gathered Forest up in his arms. “Shit, I just thought—we can’t—your head—”

“Swear to God, if you don’t fuck me tonight, I’m going to break. My head’s fine. You’re going to
kill
me here.” Forest slid a hand down Connor’s front and grabbed at his cock, squeezing lightly. “See this? I want this. My head is fine.”

Fisting his hands into Forest’s gold-streaked hair, Connor pulled the man’s head back, a gentle-rough tug to expose his throat. He bit, sinking his teeth into Forest’s long neck, pulling at the mouthful until the other man squirmed against him.

“Jesus—Con, thank God….” Forest groaned, a hoarse erotic clench in his voice. “Fucking hell—”

“Get on the bed,” Connor ordered, letting go of Forest’s hair, then lightly pushing Forest to the enormous bed dominating the small room. “Because damn, if you’re sure, then I can tell you I’m ready. I’ve been ready for a damned long time.”

There wasn’t much space to move about, and at the time he’d chosen the bedroom to sleep in, Con’d not given much thought to it. The downstairs bedroom was supposed to be temporary, but he could have used more floor to kneel on. There were things he wanted to do—hold onto Forest’s hips and suck him down, tasting the man’s cock for the first time.

Hell, just tasting any cock for the first time—but mostly because it was Forest’s.

Con stood, staring down at the wide-eyed, sprawled-out blond—half-naked, fully aroused.

Forest wasn’t much of a make-the-bed-after-waking-up kind of guy. The bed’s faded blue-striped sheets were more for comfort than for looks, and they provided a crumpled frame for his sculpted torso. A thick quilt was somewhere, probably on the floor. From what Connor discovered during his nights of checking on Forest’s slumber, the man roamed as he slept, leaving Con to wonder how he’d managed to get any rest on his futon.

Not like Forest was going to get any rest that night either.

Connor debated seduction, or rather how to seduce the obviously aroused man. Forest’s cock jutted up against his sweats, tenting the cotton in a straining line. The man’s stomach jumped in and out, partially from nerves but mostly from his staggered breathing. A downy line of light brown hair trailed down from Forest’s belly button, a shallow dip tucked between the ridges of his hard, muscled stomach.