Criminal Pleasures (17 page)

The doorbell buzzed and Brendan froze. It was after nine at night, he wasn’t expecting anyone. He crept slowly to the door and hit the speaker. “Who is it?”

“Dirty Harry.”

Brendan grinned in surprise at Marc’s familiar voice. “You’re here?”

“No, I’m communicating with you from another dimension. Can I come up?”

“Of course, I’m buzzing you in.”

Brendan’s pulse danced in his throat while he waited.
What is he doing here?
He wasn’t supposed to even be in Providence. His excitement bled to concern, and he chewed his thumbnail, hoping nothing was wrong.

Three knocks sounded and Brendan opened the door. His mouth fell open and he laughed. “
What
are you wearing?”

Marc was barely recognizable in a green, shimmery track suit, a black knit hat pulled down over his ears, and huge, reflective sunglasses. A blue backpack was slung over one shoulder. Marc grinned, and there was no mistaking that gorgeous mouth beneath the weird disguise. “Can I come in?”

“Please do.” Brendan let him inside, then peeked out into the empty hallway. He closed and locked the door, then turned around and gaped at Marc, who removed his hat and glasses as he walked toward the sofa.

Brendan went to the fridge and got two beers, then walked over took the chair next to Marc, handing him one. “What are you doing in Providence? And when is your new video coming out, Tupac?”

Marc grinned, scrubbing his short, disheveled hair with his fingers. “I missed you.”

Brendan gave him a suspicious scowl. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more to this than you missing me?”

“Because you’re not stupid, I guess?”

Brendan moved over and sat next to Marc on the sofa. “You’re not supposed to be in Rhode Island. I heard your boss tell you that when you guys were screaming at each other in his office. It’s not safe.”

Marc held his hands up. “Look. I was owed a couple days off, so I’m taking them. I’m the one responsible for pulling you into this bullshit with the DiPietros, and there was no way I wasn’t coming down to do a little sniffing around.”

“What kind of sniffing around?”

Marc twisted the hat in his hands. “I did a little surveillance today. On Gina and Carmen.”

“Marc!”

“It’s no big deal. No one saw me.”

Brendan took a sip of beer. “So? What did you find out?”

“That Gina is a busy soccer mom. And Carmen is bonking some bartender on the east side.” He shrugged. “Nothing to indicate either of them has eyes on you.”

Brendan looked down, thinking.

“What’s the matter?” Marc asked.

He looked up. “What if it wasn’t Carmen that painted my door? What if it was like, someone connected to Patrick Quinn or even Poppy?”

Marc shook his head. “Quinn was in hiding for years, he doesn’t have those kind of connections anymore. Poppy was likely the only one stupid enough to have anything to do with him, everyone knew he had heat on his tail. Besides, if guys like that wanted to fuck with you, they wouldn’t leave hate-notes on your door to alert you to their intentions. The graffiti thing reeks of crazy bitch. It’s too sloppy to be anyone but Carmen. She was probably just trying to scare you.”

Brendan glanced at Marc’s backpack on the floor. “But you still came by to be my bodyguard. Am I right?”

Marc slid closer. “That.” He brushed a lock of Brendan’s hair back. “And I was hoping I might get lucky with a hot lawyer. If you don’t mind me staying here tonight.”

Brendan’s eyes closed and he shivered as Marc’s fingers trailed down his neck. He opened his eyes and smiled. “Only if you lose the track suit. It’s hideous.”

“You just want to see me naked.” Marc dove on Brendan and kissed him, pressing him down onto his back.

Brendan wrapped his arms around Marc and lost himself in the kiss, relishing the familiar scent of him, the welcoming taste of his mouth. Buzzing with that distinct electric charge he’d felt since the first night he saw the man, Brendan writhed beneath him, struggling to get closer.

Trailing his hands down Marc’s back, he reached for his ass, lifting his hips so their cocks made contact through the flimsy fabric of the tracksuit and Brendan’s cotton lounge pants. His fingers touched something hard and metallic at Marc’s lower back, and Brendan froze.

“Aw, shit, I’m sorry,” Marc said. He pushed himself up and stood, pulling the gun from behind his back, then he knelt down in front of his backpack, unzipping the front pocket.

Brendan stared at the gun as Marc slid it into the pack. “Whoa,” he said.

Marc stood, looking down at him. “I’m sorry. I got caught up in the moment, didn’t mean to freak you out. I should have put it away as soon as I got here.”

“It’s okay,” Brendan said. “I mean, it’s not like I didn’t know you were a cop. That just...sort of drove it home.”

Marc sat down with him again, but kept his hands on his lap. “Does what I do make you nervous?”

Brendan winced. “If I say yes will you think I’m a wimp?”

Marc smiled. “No. I’d be more concerned if you were cavalier about it. I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me.”

“I’m not,” he said. “I just...”

Marc raised his eyebrows.

Brendan touched Marc’s knee. “Everything in my body is telling me to rip your clothes off and eat you alive right now, but could we just talk for a little while? I want to know more about you.”

“Of course,” Marc said. “You can ask me anything.”

“Are you sure? Because I feel kind of girly right now. You’re like this badass detective and I’m wanting to talk about my feelings.”

Marc laughed, taking his hand. “Brendan, I
want
you to know me. I know we got off on the wrong foot initially.” Brendan huffed a laugh, and Marc grinned. “Okay, understatement. But seriously. I trust you, and I like you, and I don’t want you to have any misgivings.”

Marc’s words warmed Brendan, and he huddled closer, resting a hand on his thigh. “You’re sure?”

Marc smiled. “I’m sure. Ask me anything.”

Brendan nodded, feeling shy suddenly. “So...do you have family?”

“I have a younger brother who lives in Florida. He just got married last year. He sells insurance, his name’s Brett.”

“And your parents?”

“Mom died of cancer when I was sixteen. My father is still alive, still in Newton.”

“What does your father do?”

Marc grinned, raising his eyebrows. “He’s a lawyer.”

“Cut the shit!”

He nodded. “We have more in common than you think. Shit, he might even know your dad.”

Brendan grinned. A picture was slowly forming, and with it, Marc emerged as a real, solid person. And as he did,
Marcello the Mysterious
began to fade from Brendan’s mind. “Why did you become a cop?”

Marc’s smile faded, his shoulders tensing.

“Is that a bad question?” Brendan asked.

Shrugging, Marc turned away, resting his hands on his lap. Brendan had a flashback of the night he’d come here with pizza as Marcello. He’d exhibited the exact same body language just before telling Brendan that he couldn’t stay, that there were things he couldn’t reveal.

“Our house got broken into when I was fourteen. There were two men. My parents, my brother and I were held at gunpoint for almost an hour by one of them while the other rifled through the house for valuables.”

“Shit,” Brendan whispered.

He nodded. “Everyone was crying. My father was begging the guy not to hurt his family. It was...fucking awful. They didn’t hurt us. Not physically, anyway. They robbed us blind and then they left. But after that, I had nightmares. I never felt safe. Not safe in my own home, with my parents, where I should have been untouchable. It rocked my world.”

“I’m sorry,” Brendan said. “That’s beyond horrible.”

Marc twisted and faced him, meeting his eyes again. “So why did I become a cop. I guess it’s a twofold answer. I never wanted to feel helpless like that again. Unable to protect myself. And I wanted to help take as many bad people off the street as I could. Like the guys that broke into our house. Everyone knows bad people exist, but most haven’t had to face it up close, so they can push that knowledge aside and get on with their lives. But at fourteen, I no longer had that luxury. I couldn’t push it aside. I couldn’t go on having a normal life, knowing it was out there. Waiting to shatter someone else’s childhood. Someone else’s family.”

Brendan took Marc’s hands in his. “What did your father think of your decision to become a cop?”

Marc smiled, and Brendan was relieved to see it melting away that hardness in his eyes. “He wanted to kill me.”

Brendan nodded.

“I think by the time I grew up, he thought I’d finally moved past that terrible experience, finally stopped having nightmares. And there I was, telling him I wanted a career that would put me in danger.” He shrugged. “Plus, I was supposed to become a lawyer, like him. It’s what he always wanted me to do.”

Brendan shook his head. “Wow. At least you knew exactly what you wanted. I became a lawyer because it was expected and I didn’t know what the hell else to do with my life.”

Marc slid a hand up Brendan’s thigh. “Is that enough sharing for tonight? Because I really want to make out with you before I fall asleep.”

And just like that, Brendan’s arousal returned, rushing through him in a hot, desperate current. He wanted to lie with Marc and touch him everywhere, give him pleasure and purge his bad memories from him. He wanted to consume him, and be consumed by him.

Standing, he held out his hand, and Marc took it, rising from the couch. “Let’s go to bed.”

****

Marc set his backpack down on the floor in Brendan’s room. He looked at the small hutch beside the bed, then glanced at Brendan, who was pulling the covers back. “Brendan?”

Brendan straightened up and took off his shirt. “Yeah?”

“Would you mind if I kept my sidearm in that drawer right there? I won’t sleep well unless I know it’s within reach.”

Brendan shrugged, then nodded. “Sure.”

“Thank you.” Marc took the gun out of his pack. He stuck it in the bedside drawer, then closed it.

Brendan knew it should probably bother him that his love interest wanted to sleep beside a gun. But in a way it warmed him, even turned him on a little. It wasn’t like Marc had asked to leave his toothbrush in the bathroom or for a key to the loft. But still, it was something.
He put his gun in my drawer, must be getting serious!

How his life had changed in such a short time.

Marc glanced over and smiled at Brendan, who climbed shirtless onto the bed. “You might as well take those pants off,” he said. “They won’t last long once I get in there with you.”

Brendan’s cock swelled as he watched Marc undress, revealing that tight, muscled body. While his eyes devoured Marc, he slid off his own pants and tossed them on the floor, leaving him nude beneath the sheet.

Undressed aside from his boxers, Marc gazed down at Brendan.

Brendan smiled. “Are you coming in?”

“Just...taking in the view.”

Brendan stretched back. He lowered the sheet down, exposing his nakedness, letting Marc see his eager erection. “And what do you think of it?”

Marc swallowed. He slid his boxers off, stepping out of them. “I think you’re in big fucking trouble tonight,” he said, and dove on top of Brendan.

The warm glide of Marc’s naked body on top of his made him gasp. Marc’s mouth came down and they kissed frantically, hands roaming each other’s flesh. “You feel so good,” Marc said. “Give me your tongue.”

Brendan opened his mouth, grabbing Marc’s head and thrusting his tongue between his parted lips. He groaned as Marc grabbed his hands and pinned his arms over his head, sucking on Brendan’s tongue. Marc’s knees spread Brendan’s legs and his hips gyrated against him. He broke the kiss and pushed himself up on his arms. “God, I want to be inside you.”

Heat flooded to Brendan’s groin, his hips lifting. “Just hearing you say that almost made me come.”

Marc’s breath was hot on his lips, the spicy scent of his skin dizzying. He released Brendan’s hands and propped himself on one elbow, his other hand trailing down Brendan’s stomach, edging toward his groin. “Do you want to try?” His fingers dipped lower, cupping Brendan’s balls, then sliding slowly up his shaft, making him squirm.

Arousal with an edge of fear tightened Brendan’s body, but his cock hardened under Marc’s gentle touch. He nodded. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?” Marc’s hand glided down beneath his sac, a finger brushing over Brendan’s opening.

Brendan shivered, hot pleasure tightening his balls. “Yes,” he said. “I’m sure. I want to do it for real.”

Marc kissed him deep and slow. He probed Brendan’s hole with his finger, not penetrating, but applying pressure. When Brendan started to moan, he pulled back and sat up. “Don’t move,” he said. He stroked Brendan’s face, then climbed off the bed and dug through his pack on the floor.

Brendan watched the muscles shift in Marc’s lean back as he bent over the pack. Excitement made the pulse dance in his neck, swishing in his ears.
Oh my God, I’m going to do it. I’m going to have sex,
real
sex with a man.

With
Marc
. And that’s what mattered, he realized. It didn’t matter if he was afraid, it didn’t matter if it hurt. It was Marc, and he wanted him, wanted to be claimed by him, to surrender to him.

Marc climbed back onto the bed. He set a condom down on the pillow. Brendan sat up, propped on his elbows, watching as Marc uncapped the tube and squeezed lube onto his fingers. He set the tube on the bedside table and looked down at Brendan. “We’ll take it slow,” he said.

Brendan nodded. “What do you want me to do?”

Marc lifted one of Brendan’s legs and slid over until he was kneeling between his thighs. Brendan’s body heated further as Marc smiled down at him. “Just relax.” He eased over and kissed Brendan’s chest, tongue gliding over his left nipple, hardening it. Brendan’s head fell back onto the pillow, and he stroked Marc’s back.

Marc’s hot mouth moved to his other nipple, sucking, and Brendan’s hips lifted off the bed. Then Marc’s lubed fingers were sliding along the apex of his crack, drifting toward his entrance.