9. Aaron

9

AARON

“So, you and my brother, huh?” There’s humor in Johnny’s gaze as he watches Jack head for the exit.

“Am I allowed to talk about it?” I tease, aware that Jack has a different temperament than his sibling. He’s more of a grump, so apparently, DNA doesn’t play into it.

He smirks. “Jack is private about some things, unlike me.”

“Is that so?” Johnny is an interesting guy with his open smile and carefree attitude. He and Jack bear a slight resemblance with their brown hair, but Johnny’s is lighter, shaggier on top, his beard rougher, as if he’s going for a sexy bedhead look.

“Yep, I’m bi,” he admits, then leans closer. “So Jack is jealous that I can hook up in this town more than him.”

“Is this some sort of sibling competition?” I ask, sliding the receipt toward him. “Have you ever gone after the same men?”

“Hell no. Bro code and all. I just enjoy teasing him about it.”

I can picture them wrestling as kids over one thing or another and June yelling at them to break it up. She seems the most levelheaded of the group.

“Well, then you need more gay rep around here.”

“Maybe you should visit more often.” He winks. “Might make Jack more chill.”

I grin. Somehow, the idea of that is appealing for no good reason that I can unpack right then. “Doubtful.”

He sighs. “Truth.”

I glance at my watch, then stand. “Anyway, I’m out of here.”

He thumps the bar top. “Go easy on him.”

I ignore all the curious glances, including from Beth, as I make my way out the door. Maybe I should’ve thanked her again for the crystal and tea, but I have a feeling I’ll be visiting her shop again. Besides, I’m more than anxious to head to Jack’s place before he changes his mind.

I’m relieved to see the text message from Jack when I get to my car. I punch his address into my GPS, which is ridiculous because his place is literally five minutes away, and if I was here for more than a week, I’d probably be able to drive there with my eyes closed.

When I pull in front of his house, I’m immediately taken by the charm of the small cottage. And okay, maybe the color is a little whimsical with the deep-burgundy trim and bright yellow door, but it fits with the rest of the town.

I park on the street and head for the colorful entrance featuring window boxes and potted plants. It feels quaint and cozy and not at all how I pictured Jack’s private residence. The place is a juxtaposition to his curt and sometimes icy demeanor.

Jack pulls the door open before I can knock, and the first thing I notice is how relaxed he seems in his own place. He’s barefoot, in loose jeans and a plain white tee, and fucking sexy as hell. His hair is still damp from a shower, and his five o’clock shadow seems filled in more than just an hour ago.

“What a way to be greeted,” I say, stepping inside.

I look around the small space, which has more of a modern flair than the outside, with its coffee-colored walls, cream furniture, and stark photography in black frames.

“I like your place.”

“Thanks. Just a little something to call my own,” he replies in a self-deprecating way that makes him seem younger.

A photo above the couch catches my eye, and I head over to take a closer look.

I gawk at the beauty of the sun setting over the water as if the surface is painted in flecks of gold and orange. “Wait a minute, is this your photography?”

He shifts uncomfortably. “Uh, yeah.”

“You never thought to do something with all this talent?”

“I sell my photography at the art fair.” He hitches a shoulder. “Have a few prints for sale at the pottery shop in town too.”

“And the service station is…?” I trail off, trying to understand how someone this gifted isn’t doing more.

“Is how I can afford the other things in my life.”

“That’s realistic.” And he has a point. Not everyone can make a living on their passion alone. But has he tried? And why the hell am I so invested?

He waves a hand. “It’s not a bad life.”

I catch a hint of something beneath his words, like if he’s bold enough to admit he’s a gifted artist, it needs to come with a qualifier. He still feels the need to prove he enjoys owning the station. None of my business anyway, though I did come all the way out here to convince him to sell it. Almost feels like we’re beyond that now, even if Rocco leans on me to try harder. I have a feeling there’s a line you don’t cross with Jack McCoy.

Besides, I don’t plan on messing up being invited to his private sanctuary.

“I suppose not.” I walk toward the sliding glass door between the living room and kitchen that leads to a deck and the backyard. That’s when I spot the wooden structure he told me about. “And that’s where you work on your photography?”

“Yep. Storage for my frames, and doubles as my darkroom.”

“I’m impressed.”

His cheeks stripe red as he moves toward the kitchen. He enjoys the compliment but doesn’t want to acknowledge it. “Feel like a drink?”

“Sure, what do you have?”

“Water, beer, whiskey…” He walks to the bottles lying on a rack. “I’m a bit of a red wine connoisseur.”

“You continue to surprise me.” It’s like peeling an onion with Jack. One layer after another gets closer to the center of him.

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“Why not?”

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head. “I have to remind myself you’re only passing through.”

I see a flash of hurt behind his eyes before he schools his features. Suppose we all have our pasts.

“I’d love a glass.”

His eyes brighten as he reaches for a bottle, and I watch as he peels back the seal and uses the corkscrew to open it with the efficiency of someone who enjoys wine often.

“So, you’ve drilled me plenty. Let’s turn the tables on you,” he says as he hands me a glass. “What’s your end goal—career-wise, I mean?”

Touché. “I’ve been considering going back to my roots, at least on the side.”

“Restoration?” he asks as I take a swallow. The wine is good.

“Good memory.” A little thrill shoots through me. “Yeah, getting my hands dirty again. It’s a lot of work, but it’s satisfying in a way other things aren’t.”

He sips his wine thoughtfully. “I think I get what you mean.”

I glance over my shoulder at the other prints on the wall. “You’re referring to your photography?”

“Yeah, being in the darkroom. Waiting for the photos to develop. On pins and needles how they might turn out.”

“Damn, the way you describe it makes me want to experience it.” I wink. “And maybe I will tonight?”

He meets my eyes, and there’s a promise of something in them. “Maybe.”

I lean against the kitchen island, and when my gaze snags on another photo of the coastline, I blurt, “I asked your aunt how much property is available in Aqua Vista.”

The flirtatiousness in his gaze dissipates. “To buy and flip?”

“Why? Would that be a problem?” It wasn’t my original intention, but now I’m curious about his logic.

“Depends what you plan to do with it and if you care enough about the outcome.” He continues on his soapbox. “The key to small-town life is having residents who feel they have a stake in the community. Some renters don’t, nor do they want one. You should know that more than anyone.”

“Obviously.” It’s true enough that renters sometimes leave our properties a shithole, but damn, what the hell does he think of me? Not much, I guess. Maybe he’s just entertaining my company right now so we can fuck again and part ways.

“Maybe I want to own property for personal reasons.” I straighten and turn toward him. “This town happens to be growing on me.”

“More time to hang around and get me to sell?”

“I tried, but you turned me down.” I trail my fingers down the front of his shirt to his waistband. “Maybe something else is growing on me too.”

I barely have time to set down my glass before Jack cages me in, his lips at my neck, his teeth nipping at that tender area that thankfully didn’t turn into a bruise.

When my fingers round his hips to squeeze his ass, he groans against my throat. “Bedroom. Now.”

Taking my hand, Jack leads me down the hall.

“Take everything off,” he demands, only leaving me a moment to appreciate the queen-size bed and large chest of drawers.

He stands back and watches, leaning against the dresser, his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped. I almost complain that he needs to disrobe as well, but I actually enjoy having him bark orders at me. To use me the way he sees fit—in the bedroom, at least. It requires a modicum of trust, something I haven’t felt with most lovers. But with Jack, that sense of safety has been there from the beginning. I’m not sure why. He’s been a pain in the ass a good portion of the time, but my intuition tells me differently, and I’ve been right so far.

Besides, his intense, admiring gaze makes a thrill shoot through me.

I give him a clumsy, lackluster show of removing one article of clothing at a time because I’m stiff and desperate for his touch, precome smearing across my stomach.

“About fucking time.” When only my socks are left, Jack is already crowding me on the bed, pushing me into the mattress, my nipples damp from his mouth as he sucks and nibbles each stiff peak. By the time he’s finished, I’m practically sobbing from the pleasure-pain.

Desperate for skin-to-skin contact, I start pushing up his shirt, assisting him in removing it. But after it hits the floor, he pauses to mess with me again by lifting my arms above my head and caging me in under his penetrating gaze. He devours my skin with wet, openmouthed kisses from my throat to my thighs, slicking my belly button and hip bones with saliva as I groan beneath him, acting trapped but loving every minute.

He releases me to push down his jeans and underwear, and I shamelessly take in the view. He kneels on the bed and nips at my hip bones, nudging his nose into the hair at my groin, which only makes my cock ache more.

At this point, I’m ravenous, so I grip his hair and tug at the unruly locks. “Fucking hell, Jack, you’re killing me. I need…” Before I can finish begging, Jack’s growl reverberates in my bones as he engulfs the tip of my hypersensitive cock. “Holy fuck.” My thighs lock and my back arches as his tongue works its magic along my length down to the root, then back up again to lick at the glans and suckle the tip.

Releasing my shaft, he pushes my knees up to my shoulders, exposing my hole to his greedy eyes. “Damn, you’re sexy as hell.”

I experience that same sensation again, like I’ll be taken care of by Jack, which is hard to reconcile given his prickly demeanor and the fact that we barely know each other. But in times like these, he’s almost sweet, if bossy, and I can’t find it in me to feel anything other than admired and powerful. Especially when his eyes darken with need right before his mouth sweeps down, sucking my nuts and soaking the hair with his saliva as if marking me. Fucking hot.

I stifle a whimper as his mouth lowers to my taint. So fucking close to where I need him to be. When his tongue circles my hole, I nearly jackknife off the bed. “You like that?”

“Hell yes.”

He hums in approval, gripping the back of my thighs and holding me in place as he flattens his tongue and proceeds to rock my world. My eyes roll back when he softens me enough to dip the tip inside. I clench around his finger when I feel it join his tongue. At the same time that a second digit fills my hole, his mouth engulfs my cock, bobbing up and down and providing a mind-blowing rhythm to the thrusts of his fingers.

I moan brazenly, on the cusp of losing my load, but he pulls back to reach for a condom and lube in his nightstand drawer. He rolls the condom down his length and messily applies lube, obviously as needy as I am.

I impatiently rock my hips as he lines up his cock. When he finally presses inside, the sound releasing from my throat surprises even me as my stretched hole pulses and throbs.

“Ah fuck,” Jack murmurs before meeting my eyes. “You good?”

“More than good,” I reply, giving him permission to start moving, and he snaps his hips and pounds into me. I wind my hand around my cock and jerk myself as I watch a bloom of color spread across his neck and down his chest. He’s even more enticing like this than when I first laid eyes on him.

Every thrust feels ultrasensitive, a tremor teasing my nerve endings, waiting to erupt.

Pushing my legs higher, Jack changes his angle, nailing my prostate at the first go. I tremble because the sensation feels like it’s swallowing me whole. I’m already too far gone, and with a final weak jerk of my cock, I spurt ribbons of come across my abdomen.

He bends down, sealing our mouths together and absorbing my moans. Feeling weak, I wrap my arms around his neck to ride out the last of the tremors racking my body. When I collapse to the mattress, I watch as he doubles down and chases his own orgasm. Back bowed, he clenches his teeth as he comes and faintly calls out my name. I’ll admit I enjoy hearing it in the throes of his passion.

When I lower my legs, he sinks against me, burying his face in my neck.

His softened cock slips out, but he doesn’t seem to care, the weight of his body like an anchor.

Placing my lips against the pulse at his neck, I feel it beat wildly like the fluttering of wings. I stay still, steadying my breath, hoping this night isn’t over too soon.