“I should have called you,” he said. “Let you know I was okay. I just… I knew wolves didn’t remember what happened the day after. I guess I just didn’t think what that meant. It always—the Night Shift always talks about it like a ‘get out of jail free’ card.”
Cade tilted his head back, the line of his throat taut and smooth, and stared at the ceiling.
“The last thing I remember was seeing you,” he said. “Night Shift or not, I knew you couldn’t have gotten away. Not with no gear. No weapons. No backup.”
“I did, though.”
“How?” Cade asked as he looked at Marlow. The genuine curiosity in his voice cut through the anger like a splash of lemon. “When I woke up, I knew—Iknew—I had to have killed you.”
“I blew the car up and ran like fuck while you were on fire. Sorry.”
It took a second, but Cade started to laugh. It left him breathless and whooping as he tangled himself around Marlow, chuckled kisses warm and ticklish against Marlow’s throat and jaw.
“You’re a dangerous man,” he said. “But I guess I knew that.”
“I am sorry,” Marlow said.
“For setting me on fire or for not realizing I thought I’d eaten you?”
Marlow exhaled against Cade’s lips, a tickle of breath against kiss-damp flesh. He dragged his hand along Cade’s cock, a slow, lazy stroke, and felt Cade tense under him in response. “Both?”
“I told you before,” Cade said. “It’s okay.”
“Tell me that tomorrow,” Marlow said. “When you ask me to dinner.”
Cade laughed, low and rough and warm as honey, and Marlow’s cock ached under his jeans. He slid his hand down to the base of Cade’s cock and cupped his balls, tight and hot in Marlow’s palm as he squeezed them. He couldfeelthe thrum of the string that sent a bolt of pleasure from them to the back of Cade’s skull, the wire-taut tension of it under his fingers.
Sweat slicked their skin, sharp with the salt and the stale adrenaline from the fight earlier. Cade bit kisses along Marlow’s neck and shoulder, wet and messy and careless. There was no real sensation in the white welt of scar tissue on Marlow’s shoulder, but he could still feel the pressure of Cade’s teeth as he bit down and the wet of his tongue.
His own balls were heavy and tight between his legs, a dull pressure that spread out into his gut, and he ground against Cade’s thigh. It was almost silent, all soft grunts and gasps and bitten-back whimpers. Cade came first, with a hot-breathed groan against Marlow’s ear. He clenched one hand on the edge of the couch, fingers dug into the worn fabric and the tendons in his wrist taut, as he spilled himself, wet and sticky, into Marlow’s hand. When he finished, he licked his lips and pushed himself up into a sitting position. Marlow was perched on his lap, his knees braced either side of Cade’s hips.
“Your turn,” Cade said, his voice rough in his throat from being quiet until now.
Marlow leaned back, one hand braced against Cade’s heavy thigh, and lazily wiped the other on his stomach—come smeared across pale skin.
“Go on, then,” he said.
Cade raised his eyebrows at the lazy goad but took the bait anyhow. He leaned in and… almost… kissed Marlow. He pulled back before their lips touched and shoved Marlow down onto the couch.
Marlow sprawled out on the cushions, so hard it hurt. A lazy, wicked smile curved Cade’s mouth as he looked down at him. After a moment, he leaned over and trailed kisses over Marlow’s shoulders and chest.
Then further down.
Wet, openmouthed kisses laid a trail down Marlow’s body, between and across the spray of old scars and down to the salty gloss on his abs. Heat puddled after them.
Lower.
Shit.
Marlow bit his lip and tilted his head back, his breath tight as it squeezed through his throat when Cade reached his stomach. Soft lips and a wet tongue teased his belly button as Cade tugged at his trousers.
Expectation hitched in Marlow’s chest and in his balls, a tug of pleasure that held him ready for—
His phone rang, a hard rattle against his hip bone as it vibrated. Marlow should have ignored it—he wanted to ignore it—but a decade of ingrained habits made him shove Cade back so he could grab it instead.
“Sorry,” he mouthed as he swiped over the screen to accept the call. His thumb, sticky with sweat and come, left a smear on the glass. When he lifted it to his ear, it smelled like sex. He ignored that. “Marlow.”
“Is that fucker with you?” Bennett demanded.
