Hidden Passions (Hidden, #7)(21)
"Like you do with other men," Tony finished for him grimly.
"We're likely to be thrown together, since your packmate married my alpha. If I'm remembering what we did or hoping what we'll do next, my reaction will be hard to hide."
Tony pressed his fist to his brow. His head wasn't aching, but it felt close. "So you only did this with me tonight because you're drunk?"
"Not only because of that." Chris touched Tony's arm. When he felt how stiff it was, he dropped his hand. "You've got to believe I wish things were different."
"We're a good fit." Tony tried to say this without sounding emotional. "You can't tell me sex with other men is this amazing."
Chris's breath trailed out. "We're too good a fit." He lifted his palms before Tony could protest. "I can't, Tony. Please don't push me to do this again."
He hadn't pushed him tonight. Chris had followed him out here. Tony clamped his jaw shut on that little fact. Pointing it out wouldn't change anything.
Seeing he'd given up, Chris stepped to the shed's shut door.
The cautious cat had remembered to pull it closed.
"Go on," Tony said when he hesitated. "We can't return to the party together."
His tone was sarcastic, but Chris didn't take offense. "You're a good man," he said before slipping outside like a shadow.
A good man. Too bad there was no reward for that.
CHAPTER FOUR
CHRIS'S mood hadn't been sunny since walking out on Tony two nights ago. His catnaps were history. They'd been chancy enough before, but now that he'd been with Tony a second time, he dreamed of the hot young cop each time he closed his eyes.
His subconscious mind seemed determined to torture him with details. At random moments, Tony's scent teased his nose. His ears rang with Tony's gasps, the pleasure the wolf had experienced clearly new to him. Chris had loved being the first man to give him head. The prick of Tony's claws on his scalp was a sensation he wouldn't soon forget. More times in the last few days than he cared to count, he woke with pounding erections he was too annoyed to deal with. Jacking off would only summon more images. Remembering Tony in that shed--the way they'd come, the way they'd said goodbye--tempted Chris to put a fist through something. Tony wasn't kidding about them being a good fit. Chris didn't think he'd ever felt that himself with someone.
All of which proved he'd been right to walk away. If any man could inspire him to out himself, Tony "Hotstuff" Lupone was that person.
Given that this was so, the sight that came toward him now didn't make him happy.
Their homophobic omega Liam was straggling across the concrete apron outside the station like he had all the time in the world. The big tiger was relaxed, yawning behind his fist as he paused to check the street in both directions. The autumn blue sky above him drew his attention next.
The forecast for Liam was cloudy--as he'd have known if he'd had the self-preservation the Tiger Queen gave a gnat.
"You're late," Chris said loudly enough for his voice to carry.
He sat inside Company 5 with the rest of the men. The lounge's secondhand chairs and sofas offered a view through the truck bay into their egress street. Chris had been halfheartedly paging through The Pocket Observer, looking for articles to occupy his thoughts. He'd finished all his administrative chores, sure sign of his desperation for distraction.
Having time to kill was nothing new. Resurrection wasn't a nonstop fire city. Firemen here waited around a lot, though portions of their shift were taken up with training and equipment maintenance. Aside from that, they ate, they napped, and they studied--if they were so inclined. Sometimes they raced out on calls that turned out to be someone's cat spelled into a tree by an ornery neighbor. Maybe twice a week they answered an alarm for a fire that required more than a ten-second burst from an extinguisher.
Despite facing only occasional life and death circumstances, one rule of their profession wasn't open for debate.
Firemen showed up where they were supposed to when they were expected.
Liam seemed to have forgotten this. He added a full-body stretch to his yawn, cracking the joints in his muscled back with a tiger-grunt of pleasure. When he finished, he grinned boyishly. "Sorry, boss. I do have a good excuse. Ever since the wedding, Freda and I have been knocking boots. That tigress knows how to wear out a man."
Chris's insides went very still. Their best cook Syd had been frying eggs and sausage in the open kitchen behind the lounge. Naturally, Liam's ill-chosen words reached him. The sizzle dissipated as the cat clicked off the stove's burners. Along with everyone else, he'd stopped what he was doing to see how Chris responded. Syd was laidback by nature, his family having originated in Jamaica. His reaction reminded Chris laidback wasn't the same as indifferent. Every member of the clan cared how it functioned.
Jonah was probably their hardest man to read. He lost his cat-cool enough to lean forward in his easy chair.
"What's the deal?" Liam asked, noting all eyes on him. Slowly though his long legs were moving, they'd brought him into the truck bay. "I'm only ten minutes late. The big boss isn't even here."
Evina and her new husband were on a whopping two-day, two-night honeymoon. Liam shouldn't have assumed their alpha's absence meant he could slack. No one else at the station was. Vasur, their shortest man at a mere six three in his turnout boots, had been working out when Liam made his gaffe. Vasur outranked Liam, a fact he didn't let the junior cat forget. He felt obliged to point out the error of his co-worker's ways.