The Complete Rockstar Series (64 page)

Was it fair to take my frustration out on him? No. But he was a damn convenient target.

I’m almost done with an article about the third and final installment of Ryker Bancroft’s
Quantum Stranger
trilogy, when the front door slams shut. I ignore it, assuming it’s one of the security staff. Heavy footsteps pound down the hall, stopping at the edge of the kitchen.

My fork is halfway to my mouth when I spot Mitch. Then, several things happen.

First, my cock instantly grows hard in my loose athletic pants.

Second, my eyes greedily devour every inch of his rugged, sexy body—from the top of his disheveled dark hair, to the ridiculous black T-shirt that says “Serial Killers Will Love You To Pieces” stretched sinfully tight over the broad muscles in his shoulders, down to the snug pair of dark-wash jeans that hug a mouthwatering bulge straining at his crotch.

Third, every bit of the anger and betrayal I’ve felt since Mitch turned tail and ran comes roaring back with a vengeance. My lip curls up and I drop the fork, ignoring the loud clatter it makes when it hits my plate. I shove back from the table and stalk over to stand inches away from a man I’d love to both hit and fuck, in no particular order.

Before can I give Mitch a piece of my mind, I glimpse the rage simmering behind those steely grey eyes. His jaw is clenched and his annoyingly mouthwatering body is strung as tight as a bow, rigid and unmovable.

We’ll see how unmovable he is.

Choking down the urge to punch Mitch in his smug face, I shoulder by, deliberately knocking him back a few steps. If I don’t get away from him, I’m going to explode with frustration, sexual or otherwise. I’m halfway up the stairs when I hear a low, rumbling growl behind me.

Fuck. He’s following. Is it sick that I both wanted him to follow and prayed that he wouldn’t?

When I reach the threshold to my bedroom, I whip around, prepared to take a well-deserved fist to my jaw. Only Mitch isn’t expecting my abrupt turn and crashes into me. The collision sends us both stumbling into the room, me going down ass first with Mitch’s full weight knocking the wind out of my lungs in a loud huff.

“Motherfucker!” I wheeze, gasping for air. “Get the hell off of me, Hale!”

Mitch shifts and something happens. As he tries to right himself, his hips align with mine and twin hard-ons slide against each other through layers of clothing.

We both freeze. Mitch hovers over me, his hands on either side of my head. The angry expression isn’t completely gone, as proven by the tight line of his jaw. But those eyes, they tell another story altogether. Mitch is turned on.

And I can’t move.

Not because he’s heavy, which he is. I love the feel of a solid, muscular man on top of me. No, I can’t move because the way Mitch is looking at me, with a mixture of loathing and lust, I don’t know what to expect next.

“I hate you,” he snarls. Then he fists my shirt in one hand and crushes his mouth over mine.

That
was not what I was expecting.

Mitch lets go of my shirt and drops his weight onto his elbows, allowing more of his body to slide against mine. Those wide, glorious pecs drag across my shirt, rubbing my sensitive nipples. A groan is pulled from deep inside my chest.

Unable to stop myself, I bring my arms up around Mitch’s waist and slide them down to grip two handfuls of round, rock hard ass. My hips instinctually lift to get better friction across our erections.

Mitch grunts into my mouth and grinds his own hips down against mine. He begins a slow, rhythmic rocking that quickly drives me out of my mind, pressure building in my groin. The entire time, our tongues slip and slide and duel for dominance.

With a gasp, Mitch breaks the best damn kiss of my life. Huge, black pupils surrounded by a sliver of grey stare down at me.

“I still fucking hate you,” Mitch growls.

I’m mesmerized by those swollen, red lips. Now that I know how they taste, and I mean
really
know, I want more. So much more.

“Then why are you kissing me?” I pant.

“I don’t know.”

Mitch attacks my mouth again. We come together in a messy clash of sharp teeth and velvet tongues. The hard length that grinds against mine has me moaning and writhing in minutes.

I want this so much. In fact, I’m
this
close to coming, but there’s no way I’m dealing with a shame-filled, closeted asshole that blames me afterwards. Been there, done that. No thanks.

I try to speak, but Mitch’s mouth never stops it’s sinful assault, so my voice comes out mumbled. “Shhttop.”

His hips roll wickedly and my mind goes blank. I swear I see lights sparking in the back of my eyes as they roll up into my head. Where the hell did he learn that?

Mitch groans long and loud and it’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. My cock twitches and I shudder from the restraint required to keep from coming. I have to turn my head to the side to tear my mouth away from Mitch’s. Even then he still doesn’t stop, happy to continue licking and biting my ear and neck while doing that sinful hip thrust. My balls tighten as I teeter on the edge.

“Fuck! Mitch, stop.”

His hot tongue slides along a tendon down my neck, followed by quick, sharp nips of his teeth.

Holy mother of god.

“Mitch,” I hiss through clenched teeth.

“What?”

His voice is the rough, deep timbre of a man caught up in a haze of sexual pleasure. Jesus, this is more difficult than I thought. Every cell in my body is screaming for release and I’m trying to stop it from happening. I let my arms drop back to my sides, immediately mourning the loss of having that perfect ass cupped in my hands.

I catch my breath and focus so I don’t lose my train of thought. “Why are you doing this?” My eyes are riveted to his mouth as his tongue peeks out and swipes across his lower lip.

Focus lost.

“Doing what?” Mitch slides his hips a fraction and groans, his eyelids flickering shut.

“Mitch!” Bracing my hands against his chest—and oh god, what a chest it is—I push Mitch off of me, dumping him on the floor.

“What the hell, Gavin?”

Mitch scrambles to his feet as do I. We’re right back to square one, staring at each other, both trying to be as intimidating as possible. Only this time, that sexy fucker is all rumpled and swollen lipped and I have a very obvious hard-on jutting out from my thin grey sweatpants.

I drag a hand through my hair and tug. Hard. The sharp pain helps me ignore the fact that my cock is beginning to ache.

“Fuck. What are you doing, Mitch? Are you gay? Bi?” Mitch frowns and takes a step towards me. In turn, I take a step back. “I’m not your experiment, Hale,” I spit out heatedly.

Mitch’s head drops. His large hand rubs the nape of his neck. The tension across his shoulders is noticeable from several feet away. The man is so confused.

And you still want him, Walker. Admit it. You’ll gladly do him even if you are an experiment.

Fuck if that doesn’t make my dick even harder. Which, in turn, makes me angrier. Furious at being used, I’m determined to make him talk. Crossing the room in three large steps, I get right in his face, plant my hands across that damn perfect chest, and shove.

“What the fuck are you doing, Hale? Huh? Want a little walk on the queer side? Well fuck you! Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I’m easy or desperate enough to be your one off.”

Mitch’s eyes narrow and his mouth curves into a scowl. I think about how good that mouth felt on mine and my fury rises another notch. The resentment I feel floods my body with adrenaline, which makes me reckless. I crowd closer still, pushing Mitch back again.

“Why are you here, Mitch? I thought you needed space to find my stalker. So where is he? Did you find him? Or did you come here just to get your cock sucked by the fag?”

With a final burst of anger, I lift my hands to his chest, determined to give him one last push. Faster than I can track, Mitch’s hands cover mine. He flips us around and in one smooth move topples me backwards onto the bed. Once again, I find myself underneath Mitch’s large body.

He pins my hands down on either side of my head, his chest and hips locking my lower body in place. If I wanted an honest-to-god knock-down fistfight, I could get free, but having Mitch hold me down, those grey eyes fixed on mine—it’s like being trapped in heaven and hell at the same time.

“Mitch—”

The desire to yell and scream has turned into another kind of desire. The kind that unfurls low in your belly, starting as a slow burn and cranking into a raging inferno in the span of a heartbeat.

“Shut up,” he growls. “I’m not using you, Gavin. This isn’t an experiment. I…” Mitch closes his eyes for a moment, opening them back up to stare at my face with longing. “I don’t know what this is, but it isn’t a new feeling.”

The sound of my name rumbling up from his chest has me shuddering beneath him.

“Oh.”

That’s all I can come up with.
“Oh.”
Brilliant
.
The man just admitted he’s possibly gay or at the very least bisexual. Most likely it’s the first time he’s ever told someone, and my genius response is
“oh”
.

Mitch licks his lips nervously and lets go of my hands. He pushes back to stand, so I prop myself up on my elbows to watch, unsure of what he’s thinking. My jaw just about hits the floor when Mitch reaches a hand behind his back, those large biceps flexing, and yanks the black shirt over his head, discarding it on the floor.

When Mitch toes off his boots and strips off his socks, I realize that this is actually going to happen. My eyes are riveted to the skin he exposed. It’s not the first time I’ve seen Mitch without a shirt, but last time it was dark and I was freaking out because someone was at the door. This time? I’m able to enjoy the view.

His chest is perfection, just like I knew it would be. Broad and thick, with defined pecs and big shoulders. There’s a small sprinkling of dark hair in the center that thins out before turning into the happiest happy trail I’ve ever laid eyes on.

If I thought his chest was impressive then Mitch’s abs are a work of art that gay men dream of. The skin is flat and tight, each ridge defined, flexing gloriously as he moves. They taper on either side of his torso, ending with sharp obliques that disappear down into his waistband. I want to taste that ‘v’. To drag my tongue down that trail to the prize that waits at the bottom.

“Gavin.” Mitch’s husky voice is tinged with both nervous and carnal undertones.

My gaze snaps back up. Determination, lust, and yes, fear, are all present in those expressive eyes of his.

I understand what he’s saying without hearing the words. Mitch needs me to lead. He’s out of his comfort zone and needs to know that what he’s feeling is okay. I sit up and pull my own shirt over my head. Mitch’s pupils grow larger and one hand rubs across the front of his jeans, his eyes riveted to the small hoops threaded through my nipples. I’d bet everything I own that he doesn’t even know he’s stroking himself.

Fuuuuck.

“Come here.” Shit, my own voice is gone, replaced by a lust-fueled rasp.

Mitch complies, his gaze drifting over my body, from my eyes, to my mouth, to my naked chest and back up. That damn hand of his never stops moving. It keeps fondling and squeezing what appears to be a sizeable erection.

Lucky me.

He stops when his knees hit the mattress. With my legs straddling his, I sit up and come face-to-face with that flawless set of abs. Putting my hands on his hips, I lean in and inhale.

God he smells so good.

My already hard cock turns to granite. Slowly, pressing my fingers into his sides, I open my mouth and let my tongue drag over those hard ridges, tasting and exploring every inch.

When Mitch tentatively rests his hands on my shoulders, the contact sends a shiver down my spine. I sit up straighter and lick a path up to one of his flat, dark nipples. As it hardens under my mouth, Mitch lets out a gasp. Without stopping, I glance up to find Mitch staring at me, his expression so carnal my dick throbs, begging for release.

A muscle in Mitch’s jaw jumps. He’s having just as much trouble holding back as I am. Suddenly, his hands are in my hair and he yanks my head back. When his mouth comes down on mine, I groan loud and embarrassingly long. Mitch’s knee comes up on the bed between my legs as he lowers me down.

I tear away, panting. “Fuck, Mitch. Wait.”

“No,” he growls, attacking my neck with his teeth and tongue. He finds a sensitive spot near my collarbone and sucks, hard.

“Jesus. Shit, shit, shit, stop!” I shove my hands between us and once again have to squeeze my cock to keep from coming as he marks me.

Mitch lifts his head and looks down between our bodies. His gaze comes back to mine. His expression is wild, uncontrolled, and the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Take off your pants,” I demand.

You better be ready, not-so-straight FBI man. I’m about to blow your fucking mind.

“
T
ake off your pants
.”

Oh god.
My legs go weak at Gavin’s command.

There’s no going back. I don’t
want
to go back. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more than I want this.

I stand at the side of the bed, my hands frozen on the button fly of my jeans. My senses are so overloaded I can’t move. My eyes are busy feasting on Gavin, specifically, the erection tenting his loose sweats and those sexy piercings of his.

My nostrils are filled with the scent of sex and sweat and Gavin, plus that damn coconut shampoo he uses. I lick my lips and can still taste him lingering there, potent and intoxicating. It all feels so strange yet so right.

I blink to find Gavin standing in front of me. One of his hands runs up the side of my neck to rest on my jaw. The rough pad of his thumb brushes lightly in front of my ear. Full, soft lips gently press against mine in a kiss so perfect the tension seeps out of me.

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs against my mouth.

My entire body shudders at the caring tone and sweet endearment that comes from someone so masculine and strong. Someone normally so utterly frustrated with me. The skin across my stomach flinches when Gavin’s other hand dips down inside the waistband of my jeans. He deftly flicks the buttons open, leaving my pants loose. Gavin deepens the kiss, opening up and plunging his tongue deep into my mouth.

A feral growl rips from my chest as the last bit of fear falls away, freeing me to finally take what I’ve wanted and denied for so long. I grip the sides of his face and groan, taking everything Gavin is willing to give. His hands slide around to my lower back to shove down the thick fabric that separates us. I feel Gavin shifting as he discards his own lightweight pants.

I allow my hands to roam, dropping them from Gavin’s face to drift down the curve of his spine. My fingers dance over his skin, reveling in the feel of hard muscles flexing as I try to memorize every inch. When I reach Gavin’s lower back, my hand brushes over the two dimples that sit at the top of his ass. Going further, I don’t find any fabric, instead continuing down over hard, rounded muscles covered by silky skin.

“Fuuuuck. You’re not wearing underwear.”

Without breaking eye contact, Gavin shoves down my boxer briefs. “Now you’re not either.” He steps back to take a good look. My skin burns under the intense scrutiny but I’m not embarrassed. The lust in his blue eyes, the way his body tightens and shakes as he takes me in—there’s nothing but appreciation in his stare and it turns me on more than I thought possible.

“You’re fucking huge,” Gavin grins. His expression turns serious. “And beautiful.”

Can a man be beautiful? I let my own gaze drift over the perfection of Gavin’s body, smooth tan, nearly hairless skin covering long, lean muscles. I decide that beautiful is only one of the ways to describe Gavin. He’s a work of art, stunningly gorgeous, quite possibly the closest thing on earth to perfection.

Gavin slides one of his hands into mine, squeezing it reassuringly as he leads me to the bed.

“Lay down.”

I comply without hesitation, situating myself into the center of the large mattress. Gavin joins me, crawling on top of my body until everything lines up perfectly from chest to thighs. When our bare cocks slide against each other, it reignites the raw need I’ve been holding inside.

I throw back my head. “Fuck, Gavin. You feel so fucking good.” Gavin gives me a wicked smirk and laughs, thrusting his hips again, bringing with it a wave of pleasure.

“What?” I’m leery of the humorous look on his face. What if he’s making fun of me? He moves once more and I gasp, my eyes nearly rolling back in my head.

“You. You almost never swear. Being able to make you curse is so fucking hot.”

Gavin snakes a hand down between our bodies and wraps it around both of our cocks.

“Jesus.” My back arches off the bed and my eyes flutter shut. “Fuck.”

“Hang on, Utah. We’re only just getting started.”

Gavin squeezes tight and begins to move, thrusting his cock against mine over and over while jacking us with his hand. Every time the heads of our cocks slide over one another, a burst of light flashes behind my eyelids and my balls jerk up.

I can’t take it. It’s so erotic, feels so unbelievably good, that I raise my head so I can see what Gavin is doing. The sight of us both wrapped in his large hand, slipping up and down through his tight fist, does me in.

With a toe-curling tremor, the orgasm crashes through me. My abs clench tight as a ripple of pleasure pulses down my spine and explodes. Creamy jets shoot out over Gavin’s hand and my stomach. Gavin shouts and follows, his release joining mine as he falls over the edge with me.

My skin is still flushed and humming when Gavin rolls onto the bed next to me, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. I lay still, waiting for the inevitable rush of shame.

“Hey.”

My eyes flick over to find Gavin propped on one elbow, watching me carefully. I’m entranced by his beauty—bright eyes, full mouth, the way his sculpted cheekbones are stained a rosy pink from pleasure.

“Mitch, are you okay?”

A tiny wrinkle forms between Gavin’s brows and the corners of his mouth turn down.

I think about what just happened and am surprised at how I feel.

I
tense up
, waiting for it—the denial, the anger, the blame, the “I’m not gay” excuses. Mitch is laying flat on the bed next to me with his head turned my way. He’s staring—not moving, not speaking—hell, if he wasn’t breathing I’d be worried. After an eternity, he blinks.

“I…I feel great,” he says. Relief washes over me and my entire body relaxes.

I reach out and skim a finger down his arm. Mitch shivers and closes his eyes. We have so much to discuss but I don’t want to ruin this moment. If I push too hard, he could end up resenting what we did. Instead of drilling him with the hundred and one questions I have, I get out of bed to give him some space.

“We should get cleaned up,” I comment as I pull on my briefs.

Mitch blinks several times. I watch as his expression turns from blissful to confused.

“Oh. Okay.”

Shit. I’m such an asshole. So he didn’t want space. Instead, Mitch looks like he was just slapped.

I reach for his hand as he gets up and grabs his clothes. “Mitch—”

“No. I get it. I’ll meet you in the kitchen after you get…
cleaned up
.” He turns and storms out of the room.

I groan and rub my face tiredly as I turn on the shower. After quickly cleaning off, which was a disappointment because I loved having Mitch’s scent all over me, I hurry downstairs to try and fix my fuck up.

I mean, how was I supposed to know what Mitch wanted from me after sex? Does he cuddle? Does he fall asleep? Does he leave right away? Fuck, the man hardly knows what he wants for himself!

When I get to the kitchen, it’s unnervingly silent. My lunch is right where I left it, sitting half-eaten on the table. Annoyed, I dump the food in the trash and put the dish in the dishwasher. I glance at the clock, two in the afternoon. Late enough, I decide as I snatch a beer out of the fridge and flip off the cap.

I’m chugging straight from the bottle when my skin prickles and I feel like I’m being watched. My eyes find Mitch leaning on the doorframe, his gaze laser focused on my mouth. Knowing what it will do to him, I take another long sip, wrapping my lips around the neck of the bottle as if it were his cock. His mouth drops open and his eyes widen at my display.

Good
.

Shit. I don’t even know why I’m angry.
I’m
the one who jumped out of bed like it was on fire.
I’m
the one who pushed him away after he trusted me enough to give in to desires he’s likely denied his entire life.

Then he opens his mouth and I remember exactly why I’m always pissed off around him.

“Couldn’t keep up the fake boyfriend act for even a whole twenty-four hours, huh Gavin? Picking up guys at the beach?”

My hand tightens around the beer, blood thundering behind my eardrums.

“Fuck you, Hale. You left, remember? With no fucking explanation. Pawned me off on your scary-ass friend to babysit while you ran away like a coward!”

Mitch shifts off the doorframe, standing up straight. His grey eyes turn stormy and his mouth presses into a thin line. “I was doing my job, Gavin. Finding the person that’s harassing you, or have you forgotten about that in your quest for ass?”

Mitch’s entire body is shaking. Now that I know what he looks like under that tight shirt and jeans, it’s nearly impossible to focus on anything else. My gaze flicks up to his face. Despite the low blow he served up, I don’t have it in me to fight with him. Under the harsh words and intimidating stance lies insecurity and hurt.

“Was part of your job to kiss me in the bathroom?” He flinches but I continue. “And I didn’t pick up that guy at the beach. He came over to say hi and then I sent him on his way. Ask Marcus if you don’t believe me.” I look around, confused. “Where is Marcus?”

Mitch’s eyes are less hostile, but still cautious. “I sent him to monitor the front gate. It’s swarming with reporters. They know where we are.”

I glance down at my bare feet while picking at the label on the beer. “Yeah, Marcus said something about that.” Lifting my head, I meet Mitch’s eyes again. “It’s not going to get better for a while. The paparazzi, I mean. Me coming out,” I shrug. “They’re not going to let it go overnight.”

Suddenly tired, I finish my beer and grab another. When I hold one out to Mitch he shakes his head. I take a seat at the table and open the new bottle.

Mitch sighs. “I know. I’ve gotten a bunch of calls from friends and family wanting to know what’s going on. I guess I didn’t think about the repercussions in my own life.”

Mitch seems to be torn—having to decide between joining me and having a civilized conversation or storming out of here again and pretending nothing happened between us.

“You had to know your family was going to want to know why you’re suddenly out in public with a man. One who appears in the tabloids.”

“Yeah. I didn’t think it through. I’ll call them later.”

He takes the seat across from me, but his body language is guarded. Large, sinewy forearms cross his broad chest. Mitch leans way back in his chair. Probably to get as far away from me as possible. His jaw is rigid, the muscles pulsing beneath his skin. My eyes drop to the smooth line of his throat and my hand unconsciously rubs the spot on my own neck where Mitch left his mark.

Those intelligent eyes zero in on my fingers. His pupils enlarge and I watch, transfixed, as the expression on his face turns from restrained to lust-filled.

I drop my hand so I can get some answers before he attacks me again. “What did you find?”

Mitch seems confused. “Huh?”

I can’t help but laugh. I know exactly what’s going through that filthy mind of his. He was imagining marking me again. “I asked what you found over the last few days. With the stalker?”

“Right.” His glazed eyes snap back into focus.

Hello gorgeous. Back with us from the land of lust?

“I went through all the notes, gifts, interviews—all of it—and sorted out what I believe to be from the actual stalker and what I think is from the second, less threatening person.”

“You were able to tell the difference?”

Mitch’s face lights up, obviously excited to talk about his work. “Yeah, it’s pretty easy if you know what to look for. What took me so long was the sheer amount of notes, plus the fact that most of them were thrown out. That meant I had to comb through all the interviews to find witness descriptions. Mostly from Ross.”

“Okay, so are we looking for two stalkers then?”

“No. One of them isn’t dangerous. At least, for now,” he clarifies. “Sometimes these guys can escalate their threats and we’d have to take him more seriously. But so far, in my opinion, the second person is all talk.”

“What did you find on the real stalker? He’s the one who left the dead animal in New York, right?” I swallow, nauseous from the memory.

“Yes. That one.” Mitch blushes deep red, fidgeting in his chair.

“What? What did you find?” Why is he suddenly embarrassed?

“Ummmm, after reviewing the content, the patterns, the way the notes and items became more explicit and angry…” Mitch hesitates, glancing up at me before dropping his gaze back to the table where he becomes fascinated with a small scratch on the surface.

“Just say it, Hale,” I snap, impatient and now a little worried about what he found.

“Many of the things I found lead me to believe that you may have crossed paths with this man before or have some kind of a tie to him.”

My heart skips a beat.

“What?” I whisper.

Mitch still doesn’t look at me. “I had to go back to when the notes first began and start my search there. Which includes any employees, friends, um…” he blushes an even deeper shade of red. “Doctors or patients you may have been in contact with.”

My stomach does a painful flip as my lungs punch out a heavy breath. I reach for my pocket, cursing when I realize I’m wearing sweatpants without pockets and left my stone upstairs.

He knows.

“I’m sorry, Gavin.” Mitch does in fact look sorry for intruding on my past, but that doesn’t help relieve the shame.

No one knows. Not Ross, not Adam, not Dax… only my mother, Ellie, and Hawke. And now Mitch. Mitch Hale knows that I tried to kill myself when I was seventeen and spent three months in a children’s psychiatric ward, released only because I turned eighteen and they couldn’t keep me against my will any longer.

I shoot to my feet, humiliation washing over me. Nausea and shame churn in my stomach, making me light headed.

“Gavin, it’s okay—”

I start backing away from the table. “I-I need…uh, I have to…”

Fuck it. Without explanation I turn on my heel and flee for my room, locking the door behind me. I rummage through my nightstand and pull out the smooth, cold rock, rolling it around in my fingers.