Hidden Passions (Hidden, #7)(13)

Chris wasn't sure how he felt about that. In his mind, his tiger had done the deed. He hugged his knees closer, then released them. When he inhaled, he could smell his own fear sweat. "I need a shower."

"You want company?" Tony asked as he got out of bed.

Chris was tempted, but, "Not this time," he said.

Seemingly not upset, Tony flopped back and closed his eyes. "Wake me when you get back. I should have my second wind by then."

He'd completely stretched out his body, toes pointed, long leg muscles delineated, cock and balls rolling loosely between strong thighs. Chris remembered how it felt to f*ck him, how Tony had cried out and bucked up him. His prick lengthened, more interested in another go than Chris's head was ready to handle.

Before his cock convinced him to climb back into bed, he strode to the nearby shower. The pelting spray washed the last of the dream away. His inner darkness wasn't entirely gone, but he was himself again: reliable, closeted Chris Savoy.

He found his clothes and dressed, deciding it was safer to have them on. Tony was fast asleep when he finished, curled around Chris's pillow with the sheets kicked to his ankles. His body was a true masterwork, not as substantial as a tiger's but genuinely strong. His cock lay limp, partially obscured by the pillow he was hugging. With nothing to stop him from staring, Chris curled his tongue over his upper lip. Waking that sleeping length--and Tony with it--would have been easy and pleasurable, especially since Chris would probably be the first man to introduce him to that delight. If Tony had been a different guy, Chris knew he'd have done it.

Sadly, Tony wasn't a different guy. He was out and sweet and a teensy bit flamboyant. Chris could get away with being pleasant to him but not with being secret f*ck buddies. He believed Tony when he said he'd keep his mouth shut. The problem was, one hopeful look from those soft green eyes would give the game away. All his years of playing normal would have been for nothing.

Chris's job was his life. Being a leader, saving people, gave him a sense of worth nothing else equaled. He loved knowing he did it well. Hell, he loved the excitement. He wasn't about to throw that away just to admit he was gay. Chris needed to be a fireman more than he needed that.

He, of all people, couldn't afford to indulge his longing for honesty.

His eyes burned as he watched Tony sleep. The wolf's cheeks were untouched by lines, his slumber as untroubled as a child's. Chris wondered if he'd hit thirty yet. Tony seemed young to him, though he was older than Chris's brothers had gotten a chance to be . . . older than all their years put together, he suspected.

Leave, he ordered and made himself do it.

One night and done was what this had to be.

~

Tony wanted to kick himself when he woke hours later. The sun was extremely up. Nate's front windows were blazing.

He knew at once Chris Savoy was gone. Tony hadn't meant to sleep that long. The sex had just been so damn good and relaxing. Plus, he'd thought for sure the fireman would want a second round.

Him preferring to shower alone should have rung a warning bell.

Chris's nightmare had not been nothing. Tony should have pushed him to talk about it and not let him run away.

"Right," he drawled to the industrial struts on the loft's ceiling. Being pushed to talk always worked fabulous. Just think how he'd reacted back when women tried it on him.

He got out of bed and hit the bathroom--which smelled of Chris's shower. That didn't stop him from using it. Barely less grumpy but squeaky clean, he stumped to Nate's kitchen. Chris hadn't left so much as a post-it to say goodbye.


Thanks for last night. Sorry I had to rush out early.

"Fuck," Tony cursed.

He'd definitely heard Chris mention a next time. Maybe the cat had thought better of it, or realized the sex wasn't spectacular after all. Tony planted his forearms on the island's black countertop. He could find Chris's number. He was a detective. No one had to know he had it either. Not Evina and not those macho ass-hat tigers. So what if Tony's nature wasn't dominant? He was more than his wolf. He could make the next move if he wanted to.

He made a fist, thumping the counter for emphasis. "The sex was spectacular, damn it."

Of course, it might only have been great for him. Maybe Chris's next time was like other guys' I'll call you.

Tony had uttered that phrase a time or two.

"Karma's a bitch," he said. The flare of humor lightened his mood a smidge. He'd try to call Chris. Once. Discreetly. To prove he wasn't a crazed ex-virgin stalker boy. Then he'd see what happened. If Chris could forget their night together, so could Tony.

"We are done," announced a melodious voice. "Would you like to unload us?"

Tony's heart lurched into his throat. Shit. The voice came from the dishwashers. Nate must have programmed them to remind him.

"I'd love to unload you," he assured, though they probably couldn't hear. The Brownies' soap was magic. The dishwashers were just pricey machinery.

He began to empty them, oddly soothed by the simple task. Whether he saw Chris again or not, he'd finally popped his gay cherry. The experience had been good, probably better than most people's. That, he decided, was reason enough to feel all right.

~

Eight days later, Tony was catching up on paperwork in the spell-warded basement of the downtown precinct. The wards protected the squad room from magical sneak attacks, a consideration in a town like theirs. He and Carmine had the space to themselves. No more than once every ten minutes, Tony checked the untraceable burner phone he'd stashed in his desk's locked drawer. Despite his vigilance, the cell refused to give him new info.