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The other man grabbed his hips and turned him around. Shoved him a little. “Bedroom. Go.”

Shit, was this happening? Bennett went willingly, his feet moving before his brain could catch up. His skin felt too tight, too hot and he was dying to come. Maybe this was the stupidest thing he’d ever done but, in this moment, more turned on than he could ever remember, it seemed absolutely necessary.

CHAPTER 5

The idea came to Nico quickly, before he had time to think it through. But he both needed answers and wanted to fuck Bennett Verreault. Two birds, as the saying went, no? This was smart. Efficient. And he would leave here tonight with everything he needed.

No one would know. Verreault certainly wouldn’t tell anyone and neither would Nico. This would happen only once, to get what Nico needed, and then he would disappear. They would never see each other again. Verreault would return to the spotlight and Nico would crawl back into the shadows, to the dark underbelly of the city where he belonged.

He followed Verreault into a large bedroom. A lamp on the nightstand was on, its yellow light soft on the grays and blacks of the neatly made bedding. Verreault stopped abruptly and Nico almost bumped into his muscular back.

Verreault’s shoulders shifted, growing tight. “Look, I feel as though I should say⁠—”

Nico didn’t care to hear it. This was happening. Verreault wanted it and so did he, and this would allow Nico to find out who assaulted his cousin. Reaching, he gripped the back of Verreault’s neck, squeezed forcefully. “Get on the bed.”

Verreault’s entire body relaxed, like hearing the order relieved him of whatever tension he’d been holding. That suited Nico perfectly; he liked giving orders. He was good at it—both out of bed and in it. And as he watched the hockey captain stretch his taut athletic frame out on the mattress, Nico had to press his tongue against the backs of his teeth to keep from praising him, filling the room with words that had no business between them. Words Verreault deserved but hadn’t earned yet.

The mattress was soft beneath Nico’s knees as he positioned himself astride Verreault’s thick thighs. Hockey thighs, Nico now knew. A lower body built for speed and endurance. But tonight, Nico would discover the limits of that endurance in a much different way. He licked his lips and slid his hands up Verreault’s shins. “Shirt off.”

Verreault’s eyes were hooded and glazed, and he angled up slightly, abs flexing, took off his t-shirt and tossed it onto the floor. Nico stared, unable to draw a breath. Mozzafiato. Then he touched the warm bare skin, felt the muscles shift over bone and tendon, and his hard dick throbbed in his jeans. There were scars, one on his ribs and another on his shoulder, but they didn’t detract from Verreault’s perfection. No, this was the opposite. It confirmed what Nico suspected about this man—that he was a warrior, a gladiator. A fucking beast.

Seduction, he told himself. Go slowly.

The instinct—so unlike him—appeared out of nowhere. But Verreault was clearly hiding a secret, his reaction to the photos as clear as glass. Verreault knew, or suspected, who was in those photographs, and Nico would learn a name before the night was over, even if he had to drive them both insane with lust to do it.

He stretched out over the other man, using one hand to prop himself up, while he grabbed Verreault’s jaw with the other. Bending, he paused there, letting their breath mingle as the anticipation climbed. “I am going to kiss you,” he murmured, watching Verreault’s mouth. “In case it is not obvious.”

“Yes,” the man beneath him breathed, as if Nico needed verbal permission, which he absolutely did not. Not with the way Verreault’s body was straining to get closer, hips already shifting to seek friction.

Nico closed the distance between their mouths and sank gently into the first kiss, their lips touching, pressing in exploration. Verreault sighed and relaxed beneath him, a capitulation and trust that Nico felt in his soul. It was misplaced, of course, but Nico soaked it in all the same. He deepened the kiss, giving Verreault more—more of his mouth, more of his body weight—and their mouths pulled eagerly at one another, greedy for it. Demanding it. Nico ground his hips down, rubbing their still-covered erections together through their clothing. Sparks zapped up his legs and through his groin. Cazzo, that was fucking nice.

Verreault’s hands locked onto Nico’s shoulder blades and held on, as if to keep him there, while Nico’s tongue found its way into the other man’s mouth. Lush warmth met his tongue and it was like an electric jolt to Nico’s entire body. Everything instantly changed. Gone was slow and sweet; their kiss turned aggressive, ravenous, a battle for dominance. Nico wanted to break this man down and put him back together again, fuck him to within an inch of his life.

No, no, no. Not yet.

He broke off and began kissing along Verreault’s jaw, down the rough skin of his throat. Let his teeth sink in. Verreault moaned, a sound Nico savored. He wanted hundreds of those sounds tonight, helpless and lost in sensation. He continued, his lips traveling slowly, thoroughly, letting Verreault feel wanted. Because it was true—Nico did want this. Perhaps more than he should.

Verreault’s stomach jumped, muscles trembling as Nico kissed it, then he was at the opening of Verreault’s still-undone jeans, where the erection strained against the fabric of his briefs. Nico’s mouth watered as he edged the cloth lower. Verreault’s dick emerged, thick and flushed, veins running along the rigid shaft. “Do you want me to suck you?”

“Fuck, yes,” Verreault said, his voice low and raspy, like every syllable was a struggle.

“Va bene,” Nico breathed, then he kissed the tip, the crown, down the underside. Soft brushes of his lips that would never be enough. Verreault’s hips lifted impatiently, but Nico held him down firmly. “Stay.”

Verreault whispered something in French, possibly a complaint, but Nico didn’t care. He was in charge tonight. To prove it, he parted his lips and dragged the flat of his tongue up the shaft. Not much, a simple swipe, but Verreault almost levitated off the mattress. “Oh, god!”

Nico kept going. He licked and nibbled Verreault’s dick, bathing it with his tongue and worshipping it with his lips, until Verreault pleaded with him. “Marzano, please.”

“Nico.”

“Hmm?”

He flicked his tongue across the frenulum. “When I am sucking your dick, you call me Nico.”

Verreault’s hands grabbed at the headboard, like he needed an anchor to save himself from drowning. “I’ll call you whatever you want, if you just suck me already.”

Nico wrapped his lips around the head and sucked all the way down, as far as he could manage without gagging. He was out of practice, but he was still able to take a lot. Verreault cursed, his big thigh muscles locking, and Nico held him there, squeezed at the top of his throat. Then he swallowed around the head.

“Shit!” Verreault cursed again.