Jumping at Shadows (3 page)

Eric sighed exhaustedly, savoring the warm wetness inside him as much as his own release. Nothing, not even so much as a thin sheath of latex, separated them from one another. Neither of them had worn condoms in years, not since they had both decided their relationship was for life, completely exclusive and until death did them part. Laws may have kept their vows from being recognized, but they couldn’t keep them from being true. They had both tested clean when neither of them had held any remaining doubts, and condoms had become as irrelevant as a marriage certificate.

An unsteady hand slid from his thigh to his hip, and Eric let his legs fall as T.J.’s other hand mirrored the first. He blinked the sweat from his eyes as he watched his lover crawl over him, entranced by the slow, sensuous movement as T.J. filled his vision. T.J. was beautiful in the moonlight. The faint blue streams filtering through the window outlined the damp, smooth planes of his chest and the taut flatness of his stomach as he lowered his body over Eric’s, and it illuminated the play of muscles in his arms and shoulders as he leaned forward to rest on his elbows. Half of his face was cast in shadow as he stretched farther to offer a kiss.

T.J. was gorgeous in daylight too, with cut, strong features worthy of a sculptor and the lean, muscular body of a stripper, all topped by an easy smile and liquid brown eyes that were sexy as hell, day or night. A touch from his hands or body was welcome any moment of any day.

Eric’s fingers released their hold on the thick metal bars of their headboard, and he tangled them in the dark, sweat-dampened hair at his lover’s nape as stubble scraped his chin amid a slow and languid kiss.

“I need to get a towel,” T.J. said at last, pulling back just enough to get the words out, though not quite breaking the kiss. “Wait here.”

Eric groaned a feeble protest before forcing himself to let his lover go, and he gasped just a little as T.J. carefully withdrew his softening cock. Night air tingled on his skin as he watched T.J. crawl out of their bed with lazy fascination and listened to the soft steps as he padded toward the bathroom. The sound of running water soon followed, but it didn’t last, and within minutes T.J. was back, a warm, damp cloth in hand. He cleaned them both with gentle strokes, but Eric was glad when the task was done, and he was relieved when T.J. only tossed the cloth toward the bathroom rather than leaving their bed again to take it there. Finally able to pull T.J. back into his arms, he did so with a contented sigh, curling around him the second he stretched out beside him. Great sex was one of the perks of being in a relationship with T.J., and sex with T.J. was unquestionably his favorite way to begin, end, or pass any day of the week.

Sex also happened to be the ideal way to make him relax, something that T.J. was very well aware of. Eric knew that was why T.J. waited until after sex to ask questions whenever Eric came home tense or distracted, and Eric had to admit that the sex tactic had merit. God knew he didn’t have the energy to hedge or stall after being fucked boneless and senseless, and he certainly wasn’t willing to do either when he was pressed against T.J.’s naked and sweaty body, relishing the warmth and wetness of the cum still inside him. He leaned forward to lick a slow path across the damp skin over T.J.’s Adam’s apple, remembering vaguely how he had imagined himself doing exactly that earlier at the bar.

“So what happened today, baby?” T.J. asked softly, sliding one hand down Eric’s back as Eric began to nuzzle. Their skin was still damp and slick where they touched, and it would be bared to the moonlight until they had cooled off enough to retrieve the blankets from the floor. T.J. slipped one thigh between Eric’s legs to nestle gently against his balls, and Eric lifted his leg to slide it over T.J.’s in a response both intimate and familiar. It was this closeness that Eric loved almost as much as sex, and T.J. had learned long ago that cuddling was Eric’s second-favorite pastime. Eric could feel T.J. smiling into his hair as he shifted even closer, and he planted a few wet, lazy kisses on T.J.’s throat before he answered his lover’s question.

“They let him go,” Eric said softly against the heat of T.J.’s skin. He felt T.J. stiffen in surprise, and he let out a huff of resignation before leaning back to meet his lover’s frown with a weary smile.

“They let him go,” Eric repeated. “Back out on the street with the charges dismissed. His lawyers pushed through a mistrial on the grounds of contaminated evidence, and the judge refused to set a retrial since that evidence was all we had. He dismissed the charges and purged the records of any illegal activity.”

T.J.’s frown had deepened as Eric relayed the news, and he had grown unquestionably wary by the time Eric finished. He knew exactly who Eric was referring to. Victor Kroger, Breten City’s own version of a crime boss, had his fingers in everything from extortion and blackmail to theft and prostitution, with rumors growing about expansion into child pornography. Anything and everything that could produce tax-free income had Victor’s fingerprints all over it. As a detective on Breten City’s payroll, Eric had gained a great deal of knowledge about Kroger, even more since being assigned lead detective in the nearly year-long operation to take him down. He knew T.J. could see the weariness and defeat written on his face even in the shadowed moonlight.

“Can he do that? Legally?”

Eric sighed, and he watched his own fingers as they lowered to trace a path around one of T.J.’s dark nipples, one that he had bitten and teased earlier in their lovemaking; it grew hard under his fingers yet again. “I’m sure it’s legal in some instances, if the circumstances are right. In this case, I think he just paid off the judge.”

T.J. let out his breath as he settled a little deeper in the pillow beside Eric. “Which leaves you and everyone else involved in this high and dry,” he finished for him. Eric’s answer was an indrawn breath, and T.J. caught the teasing hand and brought it to his lips to kiss a finger.

A moment passed as he watched T.J.’s mouth move along his fingertips one by one, and the sheer tenderness stalled the bitterness that Eric felt rising up inside him.

“It puts us back to square one,” Eric added quietly at last, watching T.J.’s mouth and the occasional flick of his tongue. “Farther back than that, really. The fact that it went to trial means we almost had him, and he’ll make sure he doesn’t make the same mistakes that got him hauled into court to begin with.”

T.J. licked his palm with a low moan of pleasure. “So make him make different mistakes.” His hand shot out to place one finger over Eric’s lips as if to stop the arguments Eric would make, though he turned the touch into a caress of Eric’s lower lip as he continued. “That’s not being flippant or playing down how difficult it’s going to be. It’s only stating the fact of what you need to do next. Didn’t they teach you that in detective school?”

Eric nipped at the fingers, then licked where he had bitten and allowed a hint of a smile into his voice when he answered. “You mean, if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again?”

“You’re learning,” T.J. murmured softly, though plainly distracted as Eric used his tongue to stroke T.J.’s finger sensually, slipping warmly down the length, then sliding back up to swirl over the tip.

“I just hate starting over,” Eric told him softly between licks. “I’m not even sure
where
to start now.”

T.J.’s cock was already swelling as Eric dipped his tongue between his lover’s fingers again, teasing the webbing with its tip before moving to the next one. He hummed appreciatively as Eric pressed his hardness against T.J.’s thigh and continued to sample the sensitive flesh of his hand.

“Start where you have to. Tomorrow,” T.J. answered, his voice low and husky. “Tonight, just relax and let it go. For a little while at least.”

Eric murmured a soft assent as his tongue continued to work, and he offered no resistance when T.J. rolled onto his back, pulling Eric up on top of him. Eric spread his legs to straddle his hips, and he moaned appreciatively as their cocks slid together. Sprawled obscenely over the naked body of his lover, Eric suddenly drew the finger he had been licking deep into his throat, and he listened to the throaty moans drawn from T.J. when he began sucking his finger like he would his cock. Their bodies began a slow grind as lust flared back to full, burning life between them, and T.J.’s free hand fumbled for the lube still open on the nightstand beside them.

They would both most likely be sore in the morning, but in eight years the threat of soreness had never once held them back. Heat flared in T.J.’s eyes as Eric took the gel from his fingers, and his deft and talented touch as he slicked T.J.’s solid length promised tonight would be no exception.

Chapter Two

T
IMOTHY
J
AMES
B
RISCOE
, M.G
EO
.E.

The burnished gold of the nameplate had grown tarnished over the last ten years, and it sported several areas that were scratched and dull, but it still held firm on the metal plate of the locker. Good enough for an engineer, especially an engineer now in his second decade at Perlman Engineering. Working for Breten City’s prestigious water resource consulting firm may not have been T.J.’s ideal job, but it was a steady paycheck, and today he had lab work to do. Testing groundwater samples was almost routine, given the pollution that comes when a big city is intent on growing; T.J. had yet to see a big city that wasn’t. He was just glad the company was informal enough to forgo the requirement of lab coats.

T.J. smiled as he stashed his heavy jacket in his locker. The last time he had worn his company-issued lab coat was when Eric had concocted some fantasy about being fucked by a mad scientist and had convinced T.J. to wear it—and nothing else. The seams at the shoulders had torn and the sleeves had gained permanent wrinkles, while the fabric itself now had stains that would be impossible to remove. It also had rips in the back, although how they’d come to be was still a mystery. Eric’s fingers? Some hidden danger on the rug, the wall, or the furniture? They had never been quite sure. But while the coat might be ruined, it remained in their closet. A shredded lab coat no doubt worked as well as a starched and crisp one when it came to sexual fantasies—a theory they were bound to prove sooner or later. Just the thought of adding a few more tears and stains made T.J.’s jeans tighten in the most delicious way.

But right now he had water samples to test, and he smoothed down his faded, chocolate-colored sweatshirt, emblazoned with the prominent “M” of the University of Minnesota, and willed his cock back from its growing hard-on. He knew Eric would be all for lab-coat-style sex, even after last night, but that wasn’t the only way they had found to enjoy themselves, if the enthusiastic blowjob-in-progress that T.J. had awakened to that morning was any indication. He had every intention of returning the favor, with interest and most likely that very night. Eric would no doubt be dealing with the fallout of Victor Kroger’s miraculous escape from justice today, and a mind-blowing blowjob might be exactly in order.

Samples to test
, he reminded himself. That was where his mind should be. With a determined sigh, he closed the door to his locker and began the cross-building trek to the testing lab. Rosalie Newman would probably be waiting for him there, and whether her matronly face wore a smile or a frown would tell T.J. whether to expect good news or bad. As the scuffed tile floor passed beneath his Timberland-shrouded feet, he really hoped she would be smiling.

“
T
HOSE
tapes were not tampered with!” Eric repeated heatedly, stalking the length of the office—again. “The photos weren’t retouched, the contracts weren’t forged, and the witnesses weren’t coerced! You know that as well as I do,
Captain
!”

“Watch your tone, Geller! You’re not well-heeled enough to escape being slapped back to a desk for insubordination!” Captain Ben Carroll didn’t move other than to speak, didn’t uncross his arms from his massive chest, and didn’t raise his buttocks from where they rested on the edge of his desk. His cheeks were puffed and red under the gray-flecked hair circling from ear to ear, and his eyes were hard and flinty over their bags. The tight line of his lips was nearly buried in his bushy, salt-and-pepper mustache. Though still fit in his early fifties, he was beginning to show the thickening girth of age, and the dark blue shirt of his dress uniform was stretched tight over his widening middle. His polished shoes were crossed one over the other.

Eric snorted but continued to pace the length of the office with rapid steps. The stretched soreness of his ass accompanying each step was the only good thing about the day so far, if you didn’t count the mouthfuls of cum he had pulled from his lover that morning. His own uniform consisted of jeans, hiking boots, and one of T.J.’s soft, worn sweatshirts, this one heather gray and proudly displaying “Property of Minnesota” across the chest. Eric was granted leniency in the matter of attire, considering the investigative nature of his job, and he had a penchant for filching T.J.’s sweatshirts when the temperature dropped.