Getting Hotter (30 page)

“Kind of,” he admitted. He promptly chugged more beer.

“Let me ask you something.” Aidan put down his bottle and casually rested his hands on his knees. “You ever sucked a man’s dick and gotten sucked off?”

The dirty images triggered by that question sent a bolt of lust to his groin.

He managed a quick nod.

Aidan looked intrigued by that. “Okay. You ever fucked a guy’s ass and gotten fucked?”

Another nod.

Now Aidan laughed, a deep rumble of a sound that came from deep in his chest.

Dylan’s skin prickled with offense. “Something funny?”

“Yeah, a little. I mean, you’ve had a cock in your ass, but hey, it’s fine because there was a woman around. You’ve had your dick in another man’s mouth, but gee, no biggie, there was a chick there to keep it all aboveboard and hetero.”

It did sound pretty absurd when you put it like that.

Aidan chuckled again. “If you and I do this—”

“If?” Dylan couldn’t curb the note of challenge that entered into his voice.

Those dark eyes flashed with sinful promise. “I guess there’s no
if
about it, huh?” Aidan’s tone went from dry to regretful. “But it won’t be happening tonight.”

Damned if that didn’t elicit a rush of disappointment.

“I’m catching a flight to Washington in a couple of hours.”

He furrowed his brows. “Why didn’t you tell me that when I called? Shouldn’t you be packing or something?”

“I’m all packed.” Aidan checked the watch on his left wrist. “And I don’t have to leave for the airport for another hour, so I had time to meet up.”

“Why are you going to Washington?”

“I’m being sent as a liaison for my CO and the ONI. We’ve got this new joint task force we’re setting up to discuss some potential new approaches to maritime intelligence.”

“Sounds pretty cool. How long will you be gone?”

“A month.” Dylan saw his own frustration reflected back at him in Aidan’s eyes. “That’s why I don’t want to start anything I can’t finish right now.”

“Makes sense.” Too bad his cock didn’t operate on logic and schedules—the little soldier was a hedonistic motherfucker, and at the moment, it was demanding gratification.

Ignoring the relentless throbbing in his body’s southern hemisphere, Dylan finished his beer and stood up. “I think I’ll bounce then. You need to leave for the airport soon, and I—”

“Will be too tempted to do me if you stick around,” Aidan finished.

“Something like that.”

“Fair enough. I’ll walk you out.”

They fell into step with each other. Neither said a word, at least not until they reached the front hall.

“Fuck it,” Aidan burst out, at the same time Dylan mumbled, “Fuck.”

And then he found himself being slammed into the wall and a hot, male mouth was capturing his in a harsh kiss.

It was the kind of kiss that set your entire body on fire, and nothing short of dying could have compelled Dylan to break free. They both groaned when their tongues met, then again when Aidan ground his pelvis into Dylan’s, leaving no question as to whether or not he was aroused.

Feeling the hard ridge of Aidan’s erection rubbing against his thigh was the hottest fucking thing on the planet.

With a growl, he dug his fingers into the nape of Aidan’s neck and deepened the kiss. He tasted the alcohol on Aidan’s tongue, breathed in the man’s lemony aftershave, and the lust whipping through his body intensified from the sensory overload. Aidan’s five o’clock shadow scraped his jaw, a thrilling reminder that it was just the two of them. Just him and another man.

“Son of a bitch,” Aidan hissed when they finally pulled apart.

They were both breathing hard, resting their foreheads together as they caught their breath.

When Dylan noticed the ravenous desire flaring in Aidan’s heavy-lidded eyes, he chuckled, knowing he was probably broadcasting the same damn impatience.

“A month, huh?”

“A month,” Aidan said grimly.

He let his hand drop from its perch on Aidan’s shoulder and took a step away. “I think it’s even more imperative that I go now.”

Aidan sighed. “Probably.”

“Let me know when you’re back in town.”

“You’ll be the first person I call.”

Their gazes locked. The temperature in the hall spiked at least ten degrees. Oh yeah. This was going to be interesting, Dylan decided.

Really, really interesting.

Okay, this was
totally
a date.

Miranda had no choice but to accept the unwelcome truth as Eric Porter once again steered the conversation away from his daughter, the school and his daughter’s future at the school.

She couldn’t believe Seth had been right. She’d laughed off his suspicions, even joked about them with Andre at the school today, but clearly Seth’s bullshit radar was more technologically advanced than hers. Or maybe he was simply naturally suspicious, while she tried to see the good in people.

But it was getting harder and harder to find anything good about the man across the table from her. Vain, self-absorbed, no sense of humor whatsoever. And the kicker? The douche bag seemed like a
terrible
father.

“All right. Eric. I’m going to stop you right there,” she said after he’d just invited her to go “yachting” with him next weekend. “I’m actually seeing someone at the moment. And even if I wasn’t, there could still be nothing between us. I don’t date students’ fathers.”

Porter’s lips curled in displeasure. He wasn’t an unattractive man, but he wasn’t her type either. Midthirties, nondescript features. Great hair, though—brown, thick and wavy. And he was obviously in good shape, judging by the way he filled out that expensive black suit of his. Nevertheless, he was too polished, too bland and too fucking slimy.

“I thought we were connecting,” he said, gesturing to their half-eaten pasta dishes and glasses of red wine.

“And I thought we were here to discuss Catherine,” she said coolly.

Clearly we were both wrong, asshole.

“We did.” Porter cast a grin she suspected was supposed to look boyish, but which came off as sleazy and made her skin crawl. “And now we’re discussing other subjects. I’ll be honest, Miranda, I was taken with you from the moment we met.”

Seth’s voice cackled a continuous loop of
I told you so
in her head.

“I mean, you’re an attractive woman, and you—well, I’ll just come out and say it, you’ve got an amazing body.”

Ew, gross. Had he really just said that?

“
Amazing
,” he emphasized, then eyed her expectantly, as if he was waiting for her to thank him.

What she did was drop her napkin on the table and rise to her feet.

“I’m sorry, I should get going,” she said, though she wasn’t sorry at all and they both knew it. “I need to get home to my kids.” Oh, screw it, why even lie? “And if I’m being honest, I’m not entirely comfortable with where the conversation has headed. If I led you on in any way, Mr. Porter, then I apologize, but like I said before, I won’t be getting involved with you, now or in the future.”

There was a brief silence, and Porter’s features darkened with contempt. He swiftly yanked a leather wallet from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed,” he muttered.

And then he officially graduated from the class of douche bag and proved he belonged in the league of
nasty son of a bitch
.

“Not just in you, but your school,” Porter said snidely. “I wonder if it might be more beneficial for Cat if she worked with an instructor who had more than just ‘Las Vegas showgirl’ on her resume.”

Miranda decided not to mention that Catherine wasn’t even her student. She also decided slapping this man in public wasn’t the brightest of ideas.

“I’ll have to discuss it with Cat’s mother,” Porter added. “See how she feels about the situation.”

“You do that,” Miranda said coldly.

A gust of anger, annoyance and disbelief followed her outside like a black cloud over her head. Un-fucking-believable. She couldn’t believe she’d wasted an entire hour with that jerk.

Curling her hands into fists, she marched down the sidewalk toward the end of the block and headed for the parking lot behind the school. She didn’t bother going inside to tell Elsa about the unpleasant encounter with Porter, but she did send a quick text saying she’d fill her in tomorrow.

All she wanted to do at the moment was go home and see how Seth was faring with the kids. She hadn’t received any SOS texts this past hour, so she assumed he was holding his own, but she was still incredibly curious about what she’d find when she walked through the door.

Just as she started the car, her phone rang. A Nevada area code flashed on the screen, bringing a wry smile to her lips. It wasn’t quite a call from Seth, but close enough.

“Hey, Missy,” she said after she switched the call to speakerphone.

“Hey, sugar pie! How’s my favorite birthday girl doing?” With the way Missy Masterson chain-smoked, you’d think she’d sound perpetually hoarse, but Seth’s mother had one of those breathy, Marilyn Monroe voices that only added to her sexpot status.

“I’m doing good. I got the voice mail you left yesterday. I wanted to call you back during my break—”
but I spent it with your son’s tongue between my legs,
“—but I didn’t get a chance. Thanks for the birthday message. It was sweet of you.”

“I can’t believe you worked on your birthday. Shame on you.”

“Hey, as I recall, you were at the theater until three in the morning last year on
your
birthday.”

“I’m the choreographer. Where else would I be? Now, tell me everything you’ve been up to. We haven’t spoken in ages. How’s business?”

“Pretty good. Enrollment has doubled, and we’re expecting a full house for the recital at the end of July. All the parents are super excited.” She rolled her eyes to herself. “Except for maybe one. Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if his daughter doesn’t end up dancing in the recital at all.”

She quickly told Missy about the awful “date” with Porter, and when she finished, the older woman sounded utterly disgusted. “What a slimeball! Send my son to beat him up, pronto.”

Laughing, Miranda set the phone in the cup holder and drove away from the school. “I totally should. Seth would be happy to do it—he already kicked the ass of one man who had the audacity to bother me.”

Seth’s mother was not perturbed in the slightest. “My boy has always been a hothead. And too big and strong for his own good.” Missy sounded suspicious now. “Is he giving you any trouble? Because he definitely has the tendency to bulldoze people in order to get his way. He gets his bossy, overbearing side from his father.”

“Seth has a father?”

The second she asked it, she felt like a total moron, and Missy made it worse by snorting. “No, Miranda, my son was born via immaculate conception.”

Okay, she deserved that. “I mean, neither of you talk about Seth’s father. I didn’t realize he was ever in the picture.”

“Oh, he was. Not for long, though. He bailed when Seth was five. But good riddance, because that man was nothin’ but trouble. Anyway, I wanted to make sure Seth isn’t being his usual jackass self and causing you any grief. Is he hitting on you left and right?”

For a second she almost confessed that she and Seth were kind of dating, but she wasn’t sure if he wanted his mother to know about them. And depending on what happened tonight, dating might not even be in the cards.

So she opted for a casual response. “No, he isn’t causing me grief. Why would he?”

“Because he’s been panting over you for more than a year.”

“What?” Astonishment shot through her.

“Don’t you remember when he came to visit that time? He’d just gotten back from wherever the hell they sent him and he showed up at the theater?”

With flowers for his mother. Right. She
did
remember.

And didn’t that just floor her, knowing that Seth had lusted over her from way back then.

That baffling piece of information was still on her mind long after she’d hung up with Missy. She made a mental note to tease Seth about it when she saw him, but teasing him was the last thing she wanted to do when she walked into her living room a half hour later.

Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head as she absorbed the scene before her. Seth was sprawled on the couch, his gray eyes focused on the Pixar movie playing on the TV screen, but it wasn’t his willingness to watch a bunch of animated toys dance around that stunned her.

It was the two children tucked on either side of his chest, fast asleep.

Her
children.

Seth was actually cuddling on the couch with her kids.

His gaze sought hers, one finger coming up to his lips. She was surprised the twins had already conked out—it was only eight o’clock, and normally they didn’t go to bed for another hour or so.

“Let me take them to their room,” she whispered.