All Kinds of Tied Down (Marshals 1)

“Sure,” she answered, smiling at me and then looking to Ian.

“A Coke’d be good.”

We both got plastic cups with ice and the cans, along with bags of pretzels.

“What’re you thinking about?”

I shook my head. “You should read up on Drake Ford.”

He nodded. “Gimme your laptop. Mine isn’t updated since I haven’t synched it with the mainframe in two months.”

Leaning over, I lifted my bag up onto my lap and pulled it out for him.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling. “So, this is okay, yeah? You’re not afraid I’ll find any porn or anything?”

I scoffed. “All my porn’s on my desktop at home.”

“I see. More memory.”

“That’s right.”

He chuckled as he put down the tray table and opened the laptop. “Hey, M, your e-mail’s still up.”

“Go ahead and close out of it. It’s frozen anyway.”

“Oh, look who it is,” he muttered. “Brent.”

“You can’t delete it, I’m not connected. But the stuff you need to read is on the desk—”

“I’m reading, shut up.”

Groaning, I bumped his knee with mine. “I’m ducking him and he’s getting annoyed, I guess.”

“You guess? Did you read this? He sounds a little off.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“He—oh, this is kinda… explicit.”

“Yeah? Lemme see,” I teased, reaching for the screen.

He bumped me with his shoulder, and I laughed as I settled back in my seat.

After a minute of more reading, he cleared his throat.

“What?”

“I wanna ask something, but maybe it’s too personal.”

“No such thing,” I assured him, easing close so he could whisper if he needed to. “Tell me.”

“Brent, he—it sounds like he… like….”

Ian was nervous. How much hesitancy, choking on words he couldn’t say, and restless unease needed to be piled on before I did something? Before I acted?

“What did—I mean, do you…. Wait.”

“Do I what? Want Brent?”

He nodded, clearly uncomfortable.

“No. I don’t want Brent.”

And that fast, he was better. Was that relief? How long had I been missing all this?

“But he clearly still wants me, or at least wants what I used to do to him.” I turned my head so my lips brushed his ear as I spoke. “Brent liked me on top. I like that better, but I can do either.”

Sharp indrawn breath.

“I like the control of topping. I like making someone else take me in. I get off on that.”

He didn’t shiver; it wasn’t that gentle or controlled. He trembled.

“Ian,” I said, turning into him, sliding my hand under the tray table and up his thigh—slow, so he could stop me whenever he wanted—until I reached his groin. His eyes were heavy-lidded, sweat sheened his forehead, and the dappled flush was back, spreading over his throat.

“When you come back from being away, it takes you weeks to settle down and be okay with me again.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Do you know you do that?”

“It’s not so easy to simply walk back into my—”

“Is there something I can do to show you that you’re home and safe?”

Silence.

“Ian?”

But he couldn’t say. He couldn’t tell me. I was just supposed to know. Giving in to temptation, I cupped him through his pants, feeling the long, hard length under my palm.

His halting groan was all agony.

“I’m gonna think I can take what I want, if you don’t say anything,” I whispered.

Now there was a reason for him to remain quiet.

“Ian, this is like steel, buddy,” I said hoarsely, my voice deep and low as I stroked over the cock I had seen so many times but never touched. He bucked, wanting my hand, needing the friction; his soft, low moan was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard in my life. “If I wasn’t on a fuckin’ airplane, I would take this down the back of my throat for you and suck out every drop.”

He jolted, and I worried for a second that I’d pushed too far, scared him, been stupid, shredded three years of friendship in a rush of desire. But instead, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before turning to me.

“Don’t be a fuckin’ tease, all right?” he said gruffly. “Do what you say.”

I nodded.

“And you can’t—I’ve seen how you are, with guys. You fuck and forget or you pick the wrong ones, like with Brent.”

“Yeah,” I husked.

“But you can’t do that with me. You gotta mean it.”

“Okay.”

“It can’t be just whatever. I value myself more than that.”

Had I been that much of a whore before Brent? “Course.”

He took a breath. “I think there’s a reason I’m shitty in bed.”

I felt myself frowning, unhappy with him running himself down. “Which is?”

“I think it’s ’cause I’ve never been in bed with you.”

Chapter 12

IT WAS the longest three hours and thirty minutes my life. We had a stopover, but where, I couldn’t say. No one else on the flight to Blountville, Tennessee, growled when the captain announced that there would be a slight delay with landing.

“I like that noise,” he teased, patting my leg and then leaving his hand there, slowly sliding it sideways to my inner thigh.