Chapter Eleven

He should stop this.

He deserved an explanation.

He'd ask Harper why he left.

In a minute.

He sucked Harper's tongue and grew dizzy when Harper's erection rubbed against his belly. Heat poured off him, and Colson grew faint from the heady smell of sweat and soap and Harper's desire. He clung to his biceps.

"What's going on…ohhhhh." Colson sighed as Harper yanked his shorts to his ankles and sank to his knees. His hot, wet mouth took him deep, and it was like liquid fire engulfing his cock. "Oh fuck, fuck." He held Harper's face steady while his hips thrust hard and fast. "There, right there," he croaked and came so hard, he lost his footing and had to grab Harper's shoulders. Harper continued to suck and lick his shaft until he pushed at him.

"Too much, please."

Harper pulled him down and kissed him again, and Colson tasted his saltiness on Harper's tongue. Harper continued to kiss him, swallowing his moans, biting and sucking his lips, his neck and jaw.

"Need you," Harper whispered, and Colson's heart squeezed, knowing instinctually that Harper didn't say those words often.

Colson led Harper upstairs, where Harper peeled off his clothes and pulled Colson to him on the bed. He turned Colson over and kissed the globes of his ass, then spread them apart.

Colson shivered but stayed still. Harper stuck his tongue past his rim and the wet sucking sounds caused his cock to stiffen, and soon he was humping the bed, craving the friction on his dick, while Harper's slick tongue worked his hole.

"Don't stop, please. Don't ever stop." Harper fucked his hole with his fingers and mouth. "Oh, God." Colson writhed under Harper, and his dick throbbed out a smaller, almost painful climax.

He felt the thick, heavy length of Harper's shaft rub between his ass cheeks and thighs, Harper moving in quick, hard thrusts. Hot sticky liquid poured over the small of his back, and Harper released a gusty sigh and covered Colson's body with his.

"This was a surprise."

" Mmm . This was incredible." Harper kissed his neck, and Colson rolled him off so they faced each other.

"I meant it, though. You left me and sent a text that said, ‘Thanks. I had fun.'"

Harper reached out and traced the tattoos on his chest with his fingertips. "I did have fun."

When people used to smoke, there would be ashtrays to smack them over the head. Now all he had was a plastic water bottle.

"Ow." Harper rubbed the side of his temple. "What'd you do that for?"

"For being an obtuse idiot. We have sex, and you leave and send a text I could get from my sushi delivery guy."

Harper raised a dark brow. "You have sex with your delivery person? I don't know about you, Delacourt."

This time he threw a pillow at Harper. "You know what I mean." Why did he get so damn flustered with Harper?

Because aside from him being an annoying idiot, you like him. A lot.

"No. I don't."

About to go off on him, Colson peered at Harper and shut his mouth. Harper was telling the truth. He thought that four-word text after their night together was fine. Colson thought hard about it and decided…maybe it was. They were two guys, with an insane sexual attraction, and they acted on it. It was…fun.

Why did it have to be anything else?

"You know what?" He shifted closer. "Forget about it. I don't feel like wasting time talking about that."

Harper's silvery-gray eyes were bottomless pools of light, and he brushed their lips together. "I don't feel like talking at all."

"What do you want?" he asked.

Harper's cock twitched and thickened against his thigh, and Colson shivered. Harper skimmed those long fingers over his face, mapping his jaw, his cheekbones and lips.

"I can't promise much. Or anything. I keep odd hours, and my time isn't my own."

A horrible thought crossed his mind. "Are you married or living with someone else?"

"Hell, no." Harper's absolute denial settled that question. "It's just that I don't want the same thing as you."

"How do you know what I want?" Colson nuzzled into Harper's neck, drowning in his scent. Jesus, he wanted to rub up all over him naked and have it soak into his pores. "Maybe I do."

"Yeah?" Harper nipped at his ear, his deep voice rumbling through Colson. "Tell me, Boy Scout. What do you want?"

"You."

A deliciously wicked smile curved Harper's lips. "Looks like we're on the same page." He lay flat and checked his watch. "I have to go."

Why? Stay with me. Where do you have to be at ten p.m. on a Saturday night?

"Sure," he said, keeping it light and easy. "You want to shower first? I know I have to." Visions of a wet, soapy Harper played like a fantasy in his mind.

"I'd better not. I'd just have to put my same smelly clothes on again."

Disappointed, he nodded. "Oh yeah, that makes sense."

From his place on the bed, he watched Harper get dressed. He stuck his feet into his sneakers and stood over him.

"I'll see you."

"Yeah, sure. See you." Colson slipped on his shorts.

"Don't forget to lock up and set your alarm."

He followed behind Harper and opened the front door. "I won't, Detective. Night."

Harper hesitated a moment, then kissed him on the lips. "Bye."

Colson watched him walk away and disappear into the night.

What the hell are you hiding, Harper Rose?

***

Like his first two bestsellers, this book flowed as if it wrote itself. Too keyed up to sleep, he stayed up well past two in the morning and wrote two chapters. Halfway through, he still hadn't decided if his detective would have a romantic relationship and sent an email to Luis to ask if he'd had a chance to beta read the chapters.

With that done, exhaustion hit like a brick wall, and he fell into bed. He awoke to the sun and his phone buzzing with a call from Hogan.

"Yeah, what?" He stretched.

"I didn't catch you in the middle of something—or someone—did I?"

Colson didn't know if Hogan was being annoying or hopeful.

"Ha-ha. Only a yawn. I'm still in bed." He squinted into the phone. "Ugh, it's almost eleven already?"

"Yeah. Time for you to get that lazy ass out of bed and come over for brunch. We've got a margarita pitcher with your name on it."

Keeping Hogan on the line, he checked his texts. Despite their conversation to keep it light between them, stupid him had hoped to have gotten a text from Harper, but his messages remained empty. And since he had nothing scheduled for the day, it was either stay in his house or hang out with Hogan.

"Okay, sure, why not?"

"Try not to overwhelm me with your enthusiasm."

"Yeah, yeah. See you soon."

He ended the call and glanced over at the empty side of the bed, then forced himself to get up and shower. No matter how much he liked it, Colson doubted Hogan and his family would appreciate him showing up smelling like sex, sweat, and Harper.

Of course, it didn't matter. As soon as Hogan opened the door, he busted out a big grin. "Had a good night?"

He'd tried to cover up the red spots on his neck, but damn Harper for having a thing about marking his throat. It was sexy as hell while happening, but now he looked like he'd been mauled.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He pushed past Hogan to hug Bea. "Hi, beautiful."

Her sparkling dark eyes danced. "Don't think you're going to play that game with me, mister. I know a hickey when I see one…or three."

"Can we not? Please?" He glared. "I came for margaritas and conversation and hopefully your fabulous eggs Benedict."

"All three are on the menu," she said, taking his hand. "We have the table on the deck set up."

They walked through the cheerful and sunny main floor of Hogan and Bea's home in Cobble Hill. Not too large, but not small either with three stories and a spacious backyard and deck, the house was his home away from home when he first started writing. It was one of the reasons he'd moved to the neighborhood. Hogan and Bea were more of a family than his own ever were.

The kids swarmed him, chattering about everything and nothing. He nodded and smiled at them, still disbelieving that his best friend had helped create two lives. Once outside, the kids left them to go play on the swings and slide set Hogan had put up. The large picnic table had the promised pitcher, a fruit salad, chips and guacamole, and a cheese board.

"Expecting a small army?" he joked.

Bea and Hogan exchanged glances, and he tensed. "What did you do?"

"Nothing. Really," Hogan insisted.

"Meaning?" He sighed. "You are the worst liar. Always have been. Who is he?"

"A very nice guy I work with," Bea rushed to explain. "I promise it's casual. He's about thirty, just got his PhD, and teaches the other first year psych class." Bea was a child psychologist and taught college students in the city.

"Would've been nice if you'd mentioned it earlier," he grumbled.

"So you could refuse?" Hogan glared at him. "You liked being a couple. We're just trying to help you out."

"Yeah, but maybe I'm not ready. Or maybe I don't want another relationship. I'd rather—"

"What? Fuck around?" Hogan tipped his chin toward him. "Is that what those marks on your neck are about?"

His annoyance had zero effect on his damn inability to keep from blushing. "That's not your business."

"I'm making it mine. You go from being a monk to…whatever that is."

"Nothing. I already said, not your business." He knew Hogan would frown upon his booty-call relationship with Harper. He didn't understand it himself, but that didn't stop him from wanting Harper to text him again.

"Anyway"—Bea shot Hogan a warning glance—"Danny will be here soon. No pressure, just see how it goes."

"Please don't ever sandbag me." He crunched some chips and washed them down with more of his margarita. "I'll be nice."

Bea looked relieved. "Hogan tells me you're writing a new book?"

He sipped his drink. "It's coming along. I'm debating a new angle to draw in more readers."

"Yeah?" Hogan popped some cheese into his mouth. "Like what?"

"A romance. Between the detective and—"

"A suspect?" Hogan grinned.

"No," he snapped. "That would be unethical of the detective."

"But it would make it juicy," Bea said. "Forbidden love and all that jazz." She grew animated. "You'd have the stress of solving the case and the stress of people finding out about the relationship."

He stared at her. "You sound like you read that kind of stuff."

"Yes. I do." She raised her chin. "That kind of stuff, as you call it, is an almost billion-dollar industry run by women, read mostly by women, so of course it doesn't get the respect it deserves. Authors I read are also lawyers, doctors, engineers, teachers, housewives…and I sense your disdain for some reason." Her eyes flashed. "If you plan to write about something, don't denigrate it. We'll see right through your attempt to cash in. There's nothing bad or trashy about writing love stories. Or wanting to find love."

"Ooo…kay. Jeez." He put up his hands. "I didn't mean to set off a firestorm. I'm not against love. I'm just seeing how it's all going to work out. The romance angle came to me as I was writing it, and I want to explore it."

Hogan chuckled. "I love it when she gets passionate and professorial."

"I just want Colson to realize it's not a joke to write about." She sipped her drink.

"I'm realizing it. I promise. I even have a beta reader who's going to let me know what he thinks of the romance—someone who's read my other books. He'll tell me if it fits in."

"How about letting me read it?" Bea suggested.

He wrinkled his brow. "You don't like crime thrillers or murders."

She patted his hand and refilled his drink. "For you, I'll make an exception. I've read tons of romance. I can tell you if it works for me or not."

"Even if it's two men?" At her raised brows, he explained. "My detective may have a romantic interest in another man."

"Well…I don't see why not. Can you?"

"No. And it's only a subplot. Right now, just thoughts and feelings."

Hogan gazed at him thoughtfully. "What brought this on? You've never been interested in that kind of storyline."

"The industry is completely different from when I last published. As Bea said, romance is huge, and I'm looking to attract new readers."

"Send it to me tonight. I'll let you know." The doorbell rang. "Remember." Bea wagged a finger at him, and he scowled.

"Yeah, yeah. Nice. I'll be nice."

He didn't want nice. He wanted…Harper.

"So who's the guy?" Hogan asked.

"Bea said—"

"Not Danny. The one who had you for dinner last night."

Recalling the animal-like noises he made when Harper ate him out, Colson pressed his lips together. Hard.

"So it's like that." Hogan rose to his feet as Bea approached with his setup, and Colson followed his lead. "At least give this guy a chance."

Bea stepped out on the deck and made the introductions. "Colson, this is Danny Forman. Danny, this is Colson Delacourt."

"Hi, Danny. Great to meet you."

Big, blond, and blue-eyed, Danny Forman extended a hand. "You as well. Bea, this is for you." He presented a bottle of wine. "I remembered you like Chardonnay, and this is a great year." He smiled at him and Hogan. "My ex was a sommelier. He taught me everything I need to know about wine."

Colson needed another margarita. It was going to be a long afternoon.