Shades of Gray (18 page)

And look where those decisions had led. His own young self, so full of dreams, was a criminal now, forever branded; Amanda, bitter and broken; and Ortiz… dead on a dirty warehouse floor. Danny looked down and then back up into Miller’s eyes, still staring at him from the other side of the door, one hand pressed against the glass. And Danny realized maybe Miller wasn’t the only one with a decision to make about the man he wanted to be from here on out.

Miller opened the door. Cold air swirling with snow followed him into the warm apartment and raced across the room to smack against Danny’s face. Miller stood across from him, shucking off his coat after a long beat of stillness, white flakes melting in his hair.

Danny knew this was the moment, that whatever was done now could not be undone. They would both have to live with whatever decision was reached. This was the moment when it would all really begin or it was the moment when it would finally end.

“Danny….” Miller’s voice cracked. He glanced away, his eyes bouncing from floor to wall to ceiling and then returning to Danny, locking on tight. “Danny… I….” His face looked so fragile; one wrong Shades of Gray | 135

move and he’d break like a thin sheet of glass or an early morning cobweb or a dream. It made Danny want to be careful, his passion overwhelmed by tenderness.

“I’m right here, Miller,” he said softly. “I’m standing right in front of you.”

This time, Miller didn’t hesitate. He charged around the sofa barrier, his body ramming up hard against Danny’s, his hands spreading wide across Danny’s bare back. Danny shivered, smiling into Miller’s seeking mouth. “You and your cold hands.”

“Sorry.” Miller’s slow smile made goose bumps blossom on Danny’s skin. He eased his hands off Danny’s back and brought them up to cradle Danny’s face. Danny held Miller the same way, eyes closed, foreheads touching, breathing in unison.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Miller whispered, his words wobbly and drunk with uncertainty.

Danny’s heart clenched. He knew that Miller was talking about more than just the physical; he understood how hard it was for Miller to let go of his need to control the future. “It’s okay,” he whispered back, fingers trailing down Miller’s face. “We’ll figure it out. It’ll be okay.” He lifted his mouth to Miller’s, outlining Miller’s lips with his tongue. Before Miller, it had been a long time since he had kissed anyone. Kissing wasn’t on the top of his priority list with the men he occasionally brought home for an hour or two. With those men, he was looking to satisfy his most basic needs; he wasn’t searching for anything more intimate, didn’t care about faking a connection he knew wasn’t there.

But Miller’s mouth was the part of him Danny found he craved the most. He loved the smoky flavor of his tongue, the way those lips Miller held so serious and stiff in real life turned swollen and soft when Danny sucked them between his own. Miller stuck his index fingers through Danny’s belt loops, tugging him toward the sofa.

Danny shook his head. “Bed,” he murmured against Miller’s lips, walking backward into his own room and bringing Miller along with 136 | Brooke McKinley

him.

All their clothes came off this time, no legs hampered by constricting jeans, their bodies not restricted by unaccommodating furniture. Danny pulled Miller down next to him on the bed. He thought maybe he shouldn’t stare, had a fleeting worry that Miller might be shy, but he couldn’t stop himself. He had to see.

Miller was beautiful; there was no other way to describe him. All long legs, lean muscle, and golden skin. His eyes cloudy and deep and full of secrets, and his hair ever so faintly brushed by the sun.

Miller put pressure on Danny’s shoulder, easing him down onto his body, Danny moving his hips to line everything up right. They lay that way for a moment, arms outstretched, every inch of their bodies touching, joined together from feet to hands. Danny sighed into Miller’s neck as they rocked against each other.

He propped himself up on his elbows, then dipped his head and licked the base of Miller’s throat, felt the blood pulsing under Miller’s skin. He ran his tongue up over the rumbling he heard, meeting Miller’s groan as it escaped his mouth, swallowing it with his own.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Danny whispered. He understood the impact of his question, his words falling like stones into a shadowy lake—on the surface things return to normal, but in the deep the landscape is forever altered.

Miller’s hands flexed on Danny’s waist, the gray of his eyes taken hostage by his dilated pupils, his ribcage pounding against Danny’s.

“Yes,” he said, rough and hoarse. “God, yes.” He paused. “But I don’t have anything.”

Danny smiled. He scooted his body off Miller’s, hating to leave the warmth behind, and reached for his wallet on the unsteady bedside table. “I’ve only got one,” he said, pulling out the foil square between index and middle fingers.

Miller laughed, a hand coming up to tug gently on Danny’s earring. “Who the fuck does that in real life? Carries one in their wallet?”

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“Me, asshole. And aren’t you glad I do?”

“Yes,” Miller admitted, his eyes sparkling. “Now come here.” Danny left the condom on the table and rolled his body into Miller’s, their mouths coming together. Danny’s leg curved over Miller’s hip as he stroked a hand down Miller’s side, dipping into the hollow of his waist.

Danny had never been to bed with a man who hadn’t had long practice at touching another man’s body, the role of teacher one Danny was unaccustomed to performing. But he discovered he liked showing Miller the way. And it turned out Miller was teaching him, too, somehow making this act, which Danny had done so many times before, seem fresh and newly discovered, like something they’d created all on their own.

Miller’s tongue found Danny’s tattoo again, slithering along the snake, the welcome weight of his body pressing Danny into the mattress.

“I’ve always hated that thing,” Danny said with a muted laugh.

“But you might make me change my mind.”

He felt Miller smile against his skin. “I love looking at it.” He paused, and Danny could feel a flare of heat from Miller’s cheek pressed against his back. “You’re the fucking sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, Danny,” he whispered, his fingers still caressing the painted skin.

Danny groaned. It wasn’t the words that caused the reaction, but the fact that Miller felt free enough to say them. But Miller wasn’t done, his voice scraping rough along Danny’s back. “I get hard just watching you walk across the room.”

Danny sucked in a strangled gulp of air, not able to fill his lungs.

“Show me,” he breathed. “Show me how hard you get.” It happened fast. Miller ripped into foil with his teeth, lotion from the jar by Danny’s bed rubbed on with shaking hands, Danny down on knees and elbows. He felt Miller hesitate, right on the brink.

“It’s all right,” Danny reassured him, his voice low. “I’m ready.

You won’t hurt me.”

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But whatever Danny had expected it wasn’t this, Miller barely pushing in at first, sliding so slow and smooth, coughing out a gasping wail as he entered Danny’s body. Nothing in Danny’s life had ever felt so goddamn good, so inevitable, so right. He turned his face into the pillow and moaned deep in his throat.

“No,” Miller said, startling him into raising his head, turning to glance at Miller over his shoulder. “No,” Miller repeated, his eyes on fire. “I want to hear you. I want to hear the sounds you make.”

“Jesus… Miller,” Danny groaned, right on the edge of coming from words alone.

Miller pulled out as slowly as he’d pushed in. He thrust forward hard this time, all the way, Danny’s back arching as he pressed himself against Miller. “Fuck, yes,” Danny moaned, not holding back. And Miller wasn’t holding back, either, grunting with each thrust, his fingers biting into Danny’s hips, his hands clutching hard enough that Danny knew they would leave purple finger shadows behind when it was over. But Danny didn’t mind being Miller’s anchor; he liked knowing he was the one giving Miller something he so desperately needed and had never found anywhere else.

Miller shifted his weight, entering Danny at a new angle, plunging deep. Danny cried out, a choked, sobbing sound, his hands knotting in the sheets. “Oh, Christ, Miller, yes… right there, right there.”

Miller pounded into him, releasing one hand’s grip to stroke Danny in his fist. Danny didn’t know if he could stand it, the pleasure almost at the point of pain. The sensations overwhelmed his body, swamping his senses—the spicy cinnamon scent of Miller’s skin, Miller’s rough palm working against him, Miller’s guttural groans as he moved inside him, filling him up, cool drops of sweat falling from Miller’s face onto his burning back.

Danny’s orgasm hit him like a crack of thunder, the sensation both unexpected and anticipated, a sudden clenching of his body, reverberating outwards and stealing his breath. His head fell down onto the bed, mouth open and gasping for air as he let it all go in Miller’s Shades of Gray | 139

hand.

Miller thrust forward once more and shouted out Danny’s name, surging forward to rest his face against Danny’s heaving back. Crushed between Miller’s deadweight and his own laboring lungs, Danny could barely take in a breath. But he didn’t want to move from this spot, didn’t want to leave this moment with Miller still inside him, his heavy exhales stirring the hair at Danny’s neck. Miller finally released his grip on Danny’s hip, his hand crawling upward to capture Danny’s own, their fingers lacing together easily.

Danny was already half-asleep when Miller slid off his body. He heard the faint snap of latex as Miller took care of the condom, and then Miller was back against him, rolling them both onto their sides.

Miller pushed one leg between his, brought an arm around to find his hand again, and kissed his shoulder as they settled into sleep.

Danny closed his eyes. He felt safe and protected, strong and brave. It was only the two of them now, enclosed in their own little world. Anonymous men in a nondescript apartment, snow falling heavily against the windows, already muting the tenor of the city. The occasional car passing below released only the faintest whisper, the only sound the hushed murmur of their breathing.

HINESTROZA answered on the third ring. “Hello?” he demanded, static and impatience marring his deep voice.

Madrigal had thought he wouldn’t be there and had moved on to the next task on his agenda while the phone rang in his ear. With a rough snort the white powder was up his nose, making him cough lightly into the receiver. “I have a lead on Danny.”

“What is it?”

Madrigal glanced out the window at the snow piling up against the curb. “I paid off some flunky clerk at the police station downtown to let me take a look at the recent reports. I figured Danny couldn’t stay out of trouble for long. Turns out I was right. Some concerned citizen 140 | Brooke McKinley

out walking his dog last night was accosted by two men. One had a gun, the other flashed a badge and said he was an FBI agent. The dog walker thought he was lying, but I’m guessing he wasn’t.”

“Any descriptions?”

“No, he couldn’t read the name on the badge and the FBI guy was wearing a hat. He remembered the man with the gun had an earring, though, and black hair.”

Hinestroza laughed. “I told Danny I hated that earring.”

“Tomorrow I’ll start nosing around the neighborhood. Shouldn’t take me more than a few days to figure out where they are. In the meantime, I had the clerk pull the report. We don’t want anybody giving the FBI a heads-up.” Madrigal paused, wiped his bloody nose on the back of his hand. “What do you want me to do with the agent?”

“I don’t care,” Hinestroza said. “Something quick is fine. But with Danny… I want to make sure Danny appreciates how very deeply he has disappointed me. You understand?”

“I understand.” Madrigal smiled. “It won’t be a problem.” He used his fingers to carve Danny’s initials in the frosty glass. He liked the snow; it wiped away his tracks. He could go anywhere he wanted, and by morning there would be no evidence of his passing.

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WHAT the hell do you think you’re doing?” Danny demanded, his
voice coming out louder than he intended, anger echoing off his vocal
cords.

“What do you mean?” Ortiz’s eyes pinballed in his head, hands
shaking as he folded his arms across his chest.

“I saw you,” Danny hissed. “I saw you with him.”

“Who?”

Danny bit down on his exasperation. “What do you mean, who?

You see anyone else around here?” He jerked his head toward the
table behind Ortiz where Madrigal watched their exchange with bland
boredom.

“We were just hanging out,” Ortiz said too quickly. “Waiting for
you.”

“Then what’s that white stuff around your nose, Ortiz?”
Ortiz’s hand flew upward, rubbing hard against his skin. He
wouldn’t look Danny in the eye.

“How long have you been snorting coke?”

“I don’t know.” Ortiz shrugged, his manner that of a teenager
caught in a lie, snappish and dismissive.