Six Degrees of Lust (21 page)

“That’s for kids, Sam. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a

big boy.”

“Gorgeously so, too,” Sam said under his breath. “How old

are you?”

144 Taylor V. Donovan

“What kind of hotel doesn’t have real food anyway?” Mac put

his jeans on and fastened the buttons. Sam wanted to tell him to

take them off and come back to bed, but he didn’t.

“This one, obviously.” He stretched out his arms and

rearranged the bed covers around his legs. It was getting cold

now that Mac wasn’t resting next to him.

“Aren’t I lucky.” Next he put on deodorant then his t-shirt.

“I’m thirty-one. How about you?”

“Thirty-three.”

“Why are you still in bed?”

“Where else am I supposed to be?”

“Getting dressed.”

“What for?” he asked carefully, not liking the direction the

conversation had taken.

“So that we can go out to eat!” Mac stood at the end of the

bed and pulled the covers away from Sam, exposing his naked

body.

He reached for the covers and tugged them back. “Not

happening.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause it’s two o’clock in the morning. And because I don’t

take guys out to dinner, that’s why.”

“Who the hell said anything about that?” Mac asked with a

frown. “I don’t want to be taken out. I just need you to drive.”

Sam tugged the covers again and scowled at Mac when he

wouldn’t release them. “Let go, will you?”

“Listen,” Mac pulled harder and threw the covers on the sofa,

“We fucked a few times. As a result I’m sore enough to walk

funny for the next couple of days and on top of that, I’m hungry.

You don’t want to cross me right now.”

“Was I too rough?” Sam asked immediately, searching the

Texan’s face for signs of distress.

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Mac smiled and pecked him on the lips. “No, darlin’.” Sam

had to look away from him for a few seconds. Seeing Mac’s

smile for the first time since he’d gotten to his hotel room the

previous night robbed him of air and coherent thoughts. He’d

been wishing for Mac to smile at him all night, and now that he

did Sam hadn’t been prepared for it. “You were perfect.”

Sam glanced back at the guy, touched by the tender gesture

and doing his best not to blush.

Goddammit!

What was wrong with him?

“Are you sure?” He searched Mac’s eyes. “If you’re hurt, I

want to know.”

“The only thing you need to know is that I get damn cranky

when I’m hungry, so I suggest you get off your ass and feed me

some real food—”

“Have the concierge call for pizza delivery or something,”

Sam interrupted, but Mac kept talking over him, not giving a crap

about what he was saying.

“If you want to get anywhere near my ass again!”

“Like I said, I don’t take lays out to dinner.” He got up and

reached for his jeans. “Never. No exceptions.” He glanced up

and happened to catch Mac’s half smile. He was trying to fight it,

but failing miserably.

“Why is that?”

“What the hell is so funny?”

“Nothin’,” was what he said, but “You” was what he seemed

to be thinking. Jerk.

“They get the wrong impression.” Sam answered before he

could stop himself. “You go out to dinner and they start thinking

they’re special. Next they want to know the story of your fucking

life and expect you to listen to theirs.”

“So you don’t want them thinkin’ you give a shit about ’em or

somethin’?” He turned around and grabbed his wallet. “’Cause I

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can assure you, I won’t.”

“Won’t what?”

“Get the wrong impression. Besides, the last thing I want or

need is to go on a fuckin’ date with you, so get over yourself

already.”

Sam shook his head and put on his t-shirt. “You can be such

an ass, Tex.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“People have expectations.”

“It’s just food, for Pete’s sake.” Mac shook his head and

grabbed his cell phone. “Not to mention, this is just sex. And I

live in Texas. I couldn’t date you even if you begged me.”

“When you fuck somebody and then take them to dinner it’s

different,” Sam said, glaring. “And I would never beg you, even if

I did want to go out on a date.”

“How is it different?” Mac grinned, probably thinking it was

way too easy to bait him. It usually wasn’t, so he needed to get a

grip. Pronto.

“It becomes a date.” Sam gave the Texan one of his frequently

used “are you stupid?” looks.

“I wouldn’t know about that.”

Sam lifted his weapon from the nightstand and put it in his

ankle holster. “What do you mean you wouldn’t know?”

“Never really been on a proper date,” he said softly. “But

never mind that. I’ll be back home and out of your hair in a

few hours. Shit… I’ll probably forget about you by the time I

get through airport security, so eating together ain’t that big of

a deal.”

“Never?” Sam stopped lacing up his boot to look at the blond,

completely ignoring the rest of Mac’s remark. “You’re shitting

me.” Mac just shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Man, I find it

hard to believe a guy who looks like you hasn’t ever been on a

date.” He finished with the laces and got up from the bed. “I’m

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not much for dating myself, but even I know how important it is

when developing relationships and…”

The pain that clouded those amazing emerald green eyes

stopped him from finishing his thought, but before he could ask

what was wrong Mac closed his eyes and headed towards the

door.

“You ready?” Mac’s voice was flat and completely devoid of

that teasing drawl that was so sexy it never failed to get Sam’s

engine revving. He’d closed off and one didn’t have to be a

genius to figure out the subject of his dating experience—or lack

thereof—was off limits.

“I guess I am.”

Sam took a deep breath and did his best to hide how agitated

he was feeling. In about two seconds he’d be stepping out of the

room with the other man to go grab a bite together.

It was established beyond reasonable doubt that this wasn’t

a date, but they would sit together and place an order together.

They would be able to look at each other and Sam would learn

things about Mac, like his table manners. He’d know if he chewed

with his mouth open, liked ketchup with his fries, and whether he

liked cream and sugar with his coffee or not. In turn, Mac would

learn that Sam was a lefty, that he was anal about the way his food

was served, and that he drank chocolate milk like a two-year-old.

It may not have been a date, but by the time they came back

to the hotel the Texan would have found out things about him

that only a handful of people in his life knew, and that unnerved

him to no end.

Yet somehow he was ready.

“Let’s get going, then,” Mac urged him.

“What do you want to eat?”

“Anythin’, as long as it ain’t damn sandwiches.”

And so Sam took him to his personal favorite diner in

Brooklyn, where Mac ordered half the menu and dug in as if he

hadn’t eaten in the last two years.

148 Taylor V. Donovan

Sam played around with his own scrambled eggs and did a

lot of looking around. The wait staff, the other costumers, the

dessert display, and even the bright seventies decor got inspected

the same way his crime scenes did: slowly and meticulously.

Next he thought about Nicky staying with Logan again so

that Sam could get laid. He thought about his sister, alone in his

house, and the reason why his mother was unable to keep her

company after agreeing to do so just two days ago. She’d claimed

a blasting headache, but Sam called it one too many drinks.

Obviously he was due for their monthly serious talk about red

wine’s antioxidant properties and how consuming three bottles

of it every day didn’t guarantee she wouldn’t ever suffer from

coronary disease.

Meanwhile, Mac was drowning what was left of his Belgian

waffles in syrup with the enthusiasm of a five-year-old. He didn’t

seem to have a care in the world.

Hard as he tried, Sam couldn’t understand what it was about

the man that compelled him to do things he had no problem

refusing everybody else. It couldn’t be his personality. The guy

could charm the pants off him, but he could also be an ass. It

wasn’t his looks either. Granted Mac was out of this world hot,

but Sam had been with his fair share of gorgeous people, and

that never stopped him from saying goodbye the moment the

sex was over.

But he seemed incapable of doing the same with Mac.

There was just something different about him. The way he

moved, the way he talked, the little noises he made when pleasure

overtook him. From the way he carried himself to the way he ate

with such gusto, everything about him was damn sexy… and all

of it drove Sam crazy with lust.

Notwithstanding his propensity to remain detached, he was

most definitely curious about all things Mac.

He didn’t want to be.

Sam put pepper on his eggs, which reminded him that he had

to do some grocery shopping before the weekend was over. Then

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he started making a mental list of what he wanted to get.

He shook his head and forced himself to stop. Yes, he was

uncomfortable and would much rather be back at the hotel,

horizontal, with his head buried in Mac’s neck while he fucked

him one more time. But he refused to take the coward’s way out.

He refused to think about his grocery list just so that he could

keep himself from staring at his blond Adonis while he ate half

his weight in saturated fat, sugar, and carbs.

Then again, he wasn’t scared. Maybe a little nervous, but that

was it.

And Mac wasn’t his anything. Damn it!

Just to prove to himself that he was in total control of the

situation, he put his fork down and looked at the guy straight in

the eye. “Do you always eat so much?”

Mac grinned at him. Sam honest to God felt queasy. Freaking

eggs were probably bad.

“I could eat you and three of your cousins out of house and

home,” he said good- naturedly, and Sam wondered if he was

finally over whatever funk he’d been in before.

They’d been together for hours. They’d talked a little, slept

some, and fucked like rabbits, but Mac had been tense. He’d been

holding back…

He hadn’t been the same man Sam met a month ago.

That guy had been able to pick up on Sam’s mood and

managed to do a heck of a good job of getting him to loosen

up a bit. But in his place was a man that seemed to be insecure

about pretty much everything they did. A guy that seemed to be

expecting to get figuratively kicked in the balls any second now.

It was driving Sam crazy not knowing why.

Hell. The whole situation was crazy.

He’d been pissed at the guy for weeks. The few text messages

they’d exchanged prior to Mac’s first visit left Sam wanting to

punch the shit out of him, and their brief phone conversation to

make arrangements hadn’t helped things one bit. Sam had been

150 Taylor V. Donovan

annoyed to the point where he’d seriously considered telling the

guy to go fuck himself.

Instead he’d not only met the guy one more time, but twice.

He’d gone out of his way to get Mac to relax and forget whatever

it was that was bothering him this time around.

And now he was not only having an early breakfast with the

guy, but trying to figure out what the hell was up with him to

boot.

Was that ironic or what?

Sam pushed his plate away and wiped his mouth with a

napkin, incapable of both taking another bite and fighting off

the need to know that was rapidly getting a hold of him.

“Why only a few hours, kitten?”

He hated himself the minute the words came out of his

mouth. He hated that he’d just used a term of endearment on

another man. He hated that it was important he knew why Mac

had chosen to keep both his visits to NYC on the short side,

and hated the fact that Mac was still eating and looking like their

proximity did not faze him at all… like the only reason he’d even

asked Sam to come with him was because, in fact, he needed a

damn driver.

First he was tense, then he behaved like he didn’t give a rat’s

ass about much.

It was driving Sam crazy, this hot and cold shit.

“Kitten?” Mac didn’t look at him. He just poured more syrup

on his waffles and kept eating.

“That’s what? The third… fourth time you call me that?”

“You look like a big cat and purr like one when you’re taking

it up the ass,” he quipped, wanting to hear what Mac would say

to that. He took a sip of his chocolate milk, the whole thing a

display of indifference he was far from feeling.

“I told you…” Mac moved his now empty plate to the side and