Crazy From the Heat (5 page)

“I
am not making sexy noises. I’m starving, that’s my stomach growling.” Grey
lied, but damn he wanted to move over to his bed and let Paul have his way with
him.

“And
your dick is tenting your briefs because you’re thinking about food? Talk about
a pervert.” Paul stopped backing up and moved forward, right into Grey’s arms.
His hands landed on Grey’s shoulders, following the curve of his neck up to
cradle his face in strong hands. “Want you. Won’t lie. We can’t, but I want
to.”

Grey
sighed under the fragile touch. He closed his arms around Paul’s shoulders and
nodded. Oh, yes. He wanted. But he always wanted the unattainable, which was
his greatest shortcoming.

“I
won’t blow your cover. I don’t know if I can stop thinking of you as…” He shrugged,
not knowing how this even started. “We just met.”

“If
you want to get technical, yeah, we just met. I’ve had sex with men I knew less
than ten minutes, so what?”

Grey
stepped away. So had he. And look where that got him. Half living with a guy he
didn’t know, whom he’d never actually seen naked because he wanted to take
things slow, and here he was right back at the wham-bam-thank-you-Sam time of
his life.

“Then
I guess it’s good that we can’t do this.”

“Yeah,
sure.” Paul followed him from the room. Grey didn’t look back. If he looked
back he’d fall into bed with him and Monday morning there would be no going
back to Spicoli and Dr. Talbot. “Guess I should get going. Since you’re going
to live and all.”

Grey
winced as he reached for the bags Paul had left on one end of his sofa. The gun
resting on the other end made him shiver. The barrel wasn’t cold against his
head.

“He
smelled like urine.”

“Probably
pissed himself. He was high, Grey, on some messed up form of Meth that’s
turning up in the schools. He used to be a good kid. Played ball, went to your
school, had a scholarship waiting for him at Alabama State. And you’re turning
white again.” Paul moved away from the holster he was about to strap on instead
he took the groceries from Grey’s hands and led him into the little kitchen
area at the back of his apartment. “Let’s get some food in you.”

“I
bought a shrimp Po’boy and beignets from this great New Orleans café over on
Conti. It’s probably cold now.”

“Funny,
that’s where Vinnie and I were earlier tonight, getting coffee. He’s from New
Orleans, misses it horribly.” Paul un-bagged his groceries, putting them away
while Grey perched on a bar stool. He didn’t have a kitchen table or chairs.
Just the sofa and a patio set outside. It was enough for just him.

When
he got to the wrapped sandwich, Paul pulled out a couple of plates and two
beers from the refrigerator. He cut the sandwich in half and grinned that
wicked grin just before he took a bite.

“Shrimp
Po’boys are decent cold. And yeah I’m stealing your dinner. We’ll talk about
payback later.”

Grey
shrugged. He didn’t mind really, the other half was most likely going in the
fridge for lunch tomorrow anyway.

“So
who’s Vinnie?”

“My
partner,” he smiled pointing at Grey with his pinky finger. “Not that kind of
partner.”

“What?
I didn’t say anything.” And he hadn’t even thought anything. Had he?

“You
frowned and lowered your eyes. I’m good at reading people, Grey, or I wouldn’t
have made detective. Vinnie is my work partner. Smart ass street kid not much
older than the ones we chase down. He was right behind me when Rawlings got
away.”

“Where
is he now? Shouldn’t you be back out there…working?” Grey winced as he flexed
his fingers around the bottle. “Crap, this is going to be a long weekend. I
can’t hold anything, and I can’t walk, and just, damn.”

“Want
a straw?”

“It’s
beer. You don’t drink beer with a straw.”

“Tell
that to a paraplegic. Straws were invented so that people without hands could
drink beer.”

“You’re
a bit twisted aren’t you?”

“Quite
possibly. Point is, you laughed and you forgot about your hands for a moment.”

“Maybe,”
Grey said smiling. He loved the way Paul looked at him. The way he teased him.
“But I haven’t forgotten I asked about your partner.”

“We
were ordered back to the shop. I told the Captain I’d handle you, and Vinnie
needed rack time. He better be taking advantage of that little gift, but
knowing him he’s out getting laid. You going to eat that or let it get stale?” Paul
had devoured his half of the large sandwich while Grey struggled with his
drink.

“I
don’t know. I’m hungry and nauseous at the same time. Trying to keep my mind
from wandering back too far.”

“I
could still get you to a hospital. You might need it. We should probably write
up a police report. It would go a long way in case of post-traumatic symptoms.
Stuff like that.”

“I
think some Advil and bed would probably help a lot.”

“And
food. Food would help, too.” Paul moved around the bar and placed himself
solidly between Grey’s legs. And Grey shifted on the stool to allow him closer.
He looked up the small distance into Paul’s eyes and somehow got lost. “Come
on, Professor, let’s get you fed then I’ll put you to bed.”

Grey
groaned at the mental image. “You’re trying to kill me aren’t you? Or have me
begging.”

“They
all beg sooner or later, Grey. Now, eat.” Paul held the sandwich for Grey to
take a bite. Grey hesitated for a moment, unable to break eye contact, then he
took a bite and chewed. He licked mayonnaise off his lower lip. Paul made a
little purring moan in his throat. “Fucker, I didn’t say
I’d
beg. Now
stop trying to turn me on.”

“What
did I do?” The fried shrimp was cold and chewy, but edible. His stomach rumbled
and Grey wondered for a moment if the food was going to stay down.

“Licking
those gorgeous lips like…Mmm. Just stop it and eat your damned sandwich.”
Paul’s lips tilted at the corners as he stepped closer, and again Grey eased
his legs apart for him to move between. They remained like that while Grey ate,
he on the stool, looking into Paul’s eyes. “Sandwiches aren’t supposed to be
erotic.”

“I
tried to eat un-erotically. I’m sorry, you’re easy.”

“I
am easy, very easy, and about two seconds from turning you over this damned
bar, now finish your sandwich so I can get out of here with what’s left of my
dignity. Hot fucking history teacher with fuckable lips.”

“I
was thinking the same about you,” Grey said, taking the last bite of sandwich
from Paul’s fingers, being really careful to lick the tips as if it were an
accident. Paul groaned out loud. “Except the teacher part. Hot cop pretending
to be a walking homoerotic jailbait fantasy come to life. I could come just
from thinking about the silver dangling from your naval. Oh, my God. I did not
just say that.”

“Yeah,
Professor, you did,” Paul laughed, his eyes sparkling with lust. Grey leaned
into the finger that slowly traced his bottom lip. “I really should go before
this gets out of hand.”

“Seems
like it’s already there, to me.” Grey shivered under the fingers. He leaned his
head back and parted his lips in invitation. He didn’t need the words. Paul
leaned into him, his mouth so close, Grey whimpered.

“Stay,”
was all he could think to say.

Chapter Five

The
room seemed to sway beneath Paul’s feet at the request.
Stay.
All this
time flirting to take the history professor’s mind off his ordeal, and he says
stay
.

“Okay,”
Paul whispered. There was nothing he’d rather do. He placed a soft kiss on
Grey’s up turned mouth. Brown eyes through sexy glasses gazed up at him. “Tonight.”

“Tonight
is good.” Grey didn’t stop him from taking the glasses and laying them on the
bar. He didn’t stop Paul from kissing him. Soft playful kisses at first,
designed to tease Grey into opening for him. But Grey was already there, eager,
open ready. His tongue tasted sweet, as Paul sucked it into his mouth drawing a
whimper from the teacher. He heard an echoing whimper that may have possibly
come from somewhere deep inside him, but Paul wasn’t sure.

“Shouldn’t
do this,” Paul groaned though he knew he lacked the strength to stop now.
“Ethically wrong. You were mugged, sort of. You’re not thinking straight. I’m
taking advantage. I’m undercover in your class. Everything is wrong.”

“Yeah,”
Grey whispered against his lips, Paul wondered if he’d heard a thing Paul just
said. “No sex.”

“No
sex,” Paul agreed. “Not yet.”

“Too
soon.”

“Exactly.
Way too soon.” Paul shivered at the touch of fingers beneath his t-shirt. A tug
at the metal just above his belly button had him moaning. “Fuck.”

“Are
there any more like this?” The teacher, who wasn’t as sweet or as innocent as
Paul wanted him to be, said against his mouth.

“Maybe,
but you’re not finding out tonight.” He slid his thumb along Grey’s cheek where
a slight bruise was starting to show. The man trembled in his arms and Paul
suspected it wasn’t from his touch, at least not completely. “You’re going to
be hurting in the morning.”

“Is
that a promise?”

God
damn, but that was sexy. His eyes turned a smoky brown as he watched. Want and
need slithered along Paul’s skin, threatening to pull him into the swirling end
of the whirlpool. He wanted. Really wanted.

“Not
that way, Prof. In a bad way. You need to get something for pain and
inflammation in you now.”

“Yeah,
that sounds rational.” Grey drew away with reluctance, and Paul moved out of
his embrace. “Would you mind? I keep the drugs in the cupboard beside the
refrigerator. Probably some left over Vicodin in there. Definitely some
Ibuprophen. Not much else.”

Paul
found the prescription dated for earlier in the year and poured out a pill.
Grey washed it down with the last of his beer.

“Do
you still want me to stay?” Now that the small head was receding, his actual
brain took over the thinking duties. Staying here put them both at risk. But he
didn’t want to leave with the professor doped up and in pain. He killed time by
putting away the groceries they’d forgotten about.

“Thanks.”
As Grey watched him, he swayed a bit, as if the drug had already taken effect.
“I don’t do well with—” there was a definite slur to his voice, “—pills. They
make me…fuzzy. Doan like to be fuzzy.”

“Okay,
prof, that was fast,” Paul shoved the entire canvas bag into the refrigerator,
regardless of what was in it. Grey tried to stand, but began to slump toward
the floor. He caught him around the waist and, just like on the street he laid
the man’s arm over his shoulder and walked him toward the bedroom. “Let’s get
you in bed before you fall face first over something.”

“Mmmm…Sounds
good. I’ll fall face first for you.”

Paul
laughed. Oh, hell. The smile on the teacher’s face was enough to make him want
that. “When you’re not tanked on one Vicodin Prof, I would gladly encourage
that tumble.”

“’M
not tanked. You’re hot. So pretty. You look like a kid in my class.”

“Oh,
hell, Prof. You don’t hold your drugs well at all.”

“I
don’t mess with drugs. They make me loopy.”

“Yeah,
I’m getting that.” Paul lowered the ever increasing weight of the taller man
onto the bed. Grey sprawled where he was, feet on the floor, a liquid smile on
his face, his eyes glazed. “You are high as a kite, and it hasn’t even been
fifteen minutes.”

“Want
to taste you.” Grey reached out a hand but it flopped back onto the bed. He
laughed, a deep sound that raced through Paul like molten lava. Even out of it,
the man was sexy as hell.

“How
‘bout we move you up to the pillows and get you settled first.” Paul toed his
shoes off and climbed onto the bed beside Grey. He tried not to notice the tip
of the man’s dick lying against his leg just under the leg of his boxers. Tried
not to, but did. He’d be long. Paul bit back a groan. “Come on, Prof. Scoot.”

Grey
scooted His boxers pulled down, his shirt up—too much skin, too many tempting
hair trails to lick. Just, damn. Finally he got the professor settled on a
pillow and his clothes in the correct place. Grey rolled to his side and pulled
a pillow into his arms. He watched through glazed, slitted eyes as Paul lay
beside him and rolled to face him.

“Paul.”

“Yeah,
Grey?” But Grey didn’t answer. He smiled and closed his eyes. His breathing
evened out, smelling of beer and po’boy. It would have been too much to get him
into the bathroom to brush.

Paul
went to turn the light off, the street lights from outside illuminating the
room through the large windows. The mural painted on the glass splashed color
around the room. Funny he hadn’t noticed the art before and wondered if that
was why Grey lived in the tiny apartment. And then the week of double shifts
and pretending to be something he wasn’t anymore caught up with him.