Capture & Surrender (Market Garden, #5)(27)

Pulling in a deep breath, he gently nudged Stefan’s fingers apart and laced his in between. Stefan responded by curling his fingers over, clasping Frank’s hand from beneath. Frank navigated a curve in the road with his other hand, then when he was safely on a straightaway, glanced at Stefan again.

“You said you got what you wanted at the field. What exactly was it you wanted?”

“You.” Stefan shrugged.

Frank barely managed to hold still. “Okay, but more specifically. So I know what you’re after here.”

“Are you asking if I want sex or something more?”

Not sure he wanted the answer, Frank kept his eyes on the road and nodded.

“Today, I wanted you out on the field. Tonight, I want sex.” God, but this kid was so blunt and direct. “Tomorrow? Ask me over breakfast.”

Okay. Let’s focus on today. Tonight. Frank could feel the heat rise, and he was increasingly glad that he was into an area he knew like the back of his hand. Before long, he pulled off the road into his short driveway. The garage door opened when he approached, and he parked the car inside, the gate sliding shut behind them. He got out and gathered up his bag, keenly aware of every one of Stefan’s movements as he followed him.

The man’s proximity was a buzz he couldn’t ignore, and he remembered that sense of shock and arousal when he’d been plucked off the field. Of all the available guys, Stefan was after him.





He opened the door, let Stefan slide in first—glancing at him with something like irony—and closed the door behind them.

“If you want a shower, it’s upstairs.”

Stefan turned. “You going to join me?”

He was moving fast, keeping Frank off balance. “I . . . ever fallen on your arse in the shower?”

Stefan grinned. “Can’t say I have. You want to try?”

Frank grumbled. “All right.” He’d stopped believing in shower sex after an accident that had been hilarious, if painful. Hilarious for his partner—Andrew—and only in hindsight for himself. There was a secret about shower sex without losing balance or footing that nobody had bothered to teach Frank.

“Upstairs,” he repeated, and headed up, realising too late that the largest shower in the house, the one most suitable for what Stefan had in mind, was the en suite from the master bedroom.

He dropped the bag next to the nightstand, resisted the temptation to straighten the duvet as he looked at his bed with a stranger’s eyes. Black metal frame, sturdy, one pillow, one large duvet, the bed linens a dark blue. A food supplement catalogue was folded over on the nightstand, assorted papers strewn along one side of the bed, forming an untidy pile of bills and statements and voter registrations and whatever else found its way into his post box. Not exactly a den of debauchery and seduction, though thank God, no toys were out.

“Now what about that shower?”

“Yeah. Drop your stuff . . . err, here.” Frank pushed on into the bathroom, resisted the urge to cap the toothpaste. It had driven Andrew insane, and maybe he never capped the toothpaste now because part of him was hoping Andrew would come back and bitch him out over it.

Shit, that hurt.

Footsteps behind him. Right. Stefan was here. And somehow, his presence suddenly felt . . . strange. Like Frank had invited him onto holy ground and was having second thoughts a moment too late.

But then Stefan’s hands slid over Frank’s hips. He kissed the side of Frank’s neck. “You all right?”

Frank nodded. “Yeah. Sorry.” He freed himself from Stefan’s grasp under the guise of needing to turn on the shower. Behind him, clothes rustled, and Frank bit his lip. He’d seen flashes of Stefan’s skin, but all of him at once? Naked? He wasn’t sure he could handle that.

But Stefan wasn’t giving him a choice now. He stood between Frank and the bathroom door, and when Frank turned around from starting the shower, Stefan was pushing those camouflage pants down over his hips.

Oh. My God.

A few faint bruises and welts marked his skin, keeping tally of all his tactical moves and the occasional dive for cover—that was where the scrape on his knee must’ve come from, Frank decided—and adding to his badass persona. On his left arm, a US Army tattoo. On the right, a colourful abstract design with some lettering that might have been Greek or something.

Stefan definitely hadn’t let his military physique go soft. For that matter, there wasn’t anything soft about him right now, and that hard cock was even more enticing now that Frank knew what Stefan had in mind.

At Frank’s direction, Stefan draped his clothes over the edge of a hamper, and then he looked Frank up and down. “Do I have to unwrap my spoils?”

Frank glanced down, realising he hadn’t removed a stitch of clothing yet. Heat rushed into his cheeks. He gestured at the shower. “Go ahead and get in. I’ll join you in a second.”

Stefan grinned, then winked and slid past Frank, no doubt deliberately brushing against him. Frank swallowed hard. He glanced after Stefan, catching a glimpse of that gorgeous arse before Stefan stepped into the shower.

He shook himself and concentrated on getting out of his clothes, a task that wasn’t usually quite this difficult. As he dropped his tee into the hamper, he couldn’t help one last glance at the uncapped toothpaste on the counter. His stomach tightened. He didn’t feel as guilty about this as he thought he should have, and he felt guilt about that. Like he was moving on before he was ready to let himself move on.