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Then after a moment, he said, “We’re coworkers, you know.”
“It’s worse than that. I’m in your direct chain of command.” The Scot’s expression turned bleak. “This could be considered sexual harassment.”
Yordan nodded. “But I don’t feel harassed. I don’t feel forced at all.”
The Scot flashed a sexy grin. “You can be on top.” Oh hell, his brogue was back, and that never failed to feel like soft hands stroking his dick.
“I don’t want this to screw with my job. It’s not…” Fuck, it was hard to think with McNabb looking all come-hither. “There’re all sorts of reasons not to do this at work.”
The Scot didn’t disagree. His voice was light and his eyes languid as he said a cheerful, “Yup.”
“Right now, I don’t care.”
“As the supervisor, I need to care.” McNabb’s expression turned wistful. “But I’ve wanted this for so long, I don’t think I can stop you.”
It took a moment for Yordan’s brain to process that through his fog of lust. But when the words filtered in, he found himself smiling. “A long time, huh?”
The Scot adjusted himself on the bed, shifting so that their bodies were aligned, touching but not grinding. Yet.
“Do you remember the day we met?”
Yordan shook his head. They were already face-to-face, so it was easy to let his hand stroke up and down McNabb’s flank. The man flexed with the touch, and he heard a for-real purr—a very manly one—underneath his next words.
“It was after my first mission,” he said. His eyes darted to the side to indicate the lake. “Here, actually. We were already back at the mansion, and I was bragging about how badass we were. Well, how badass I was. But we were all—”
“I remember,” Yordan said. The pack had been high on their own success, halfway to drunk, and steeped in glory. Just like every puppy after a first mission. But Yordan had been back from a hard one. His pack had survived—barely—and there had been civilian casualties. He remembered getting angrier and angrier as McNabb had glorified the wrong things. Then he’d gone on to pitying the mundanes, and Yordan lost control of his temper. “I shouldn’t have reamed you out,” he said softly. “It wasn’t my place, and I was too raw from my own shit.”
The Scot shrugged, his expression too guarded to read. “You told us—well, you told me—that every soul has a power and a purpose. Obviously, we’d been given strength, but if we didn’t start looking for the power in every living soul, then we were short on smarts.”
Yordan winced. “I sound like a pompous ass.” What right had he had to piss on anyone’s first mission? They deserved the high.
“You were right. I’d never thought of it that way before. It’s so easy to glory in our abilities, but if we don’t see that other people have value and their own kind of power, then we miss the whole point of this life.” His expression grew soft. “I learned that from you, and it’s been a guiding principle of my life.”
Yordan gaped at him. “Bullshit.”
“Not shit. It took me a couple years for the truth of it to really sink in, but you planted the seed.”
Yordan shifted, uncomfortable with being seen so clearly. “I was steeped in my own shit. I shouldn’t have rained on your parade.”
“I’ve wanted you ever since.”
“Because I spouted some bitter—”
“Because you have a wisdom that nobody else seems to see. It guides your life and, damn it, is so quietly impressive that I’ve followed your career, read every single mission report about you, and…” He shrugged. “I’ve been stalkery crazy about you.”
Wow. “I didn’t know.”
Worse, he didn’t know what to do about it. It felt vulnerable to be so seen by this man. Everyone tended to dismiss him as a quiet jarhead. Himself included. But in the quiet of the dark nights, Yordan thought about this kind of stuff. About what every living creature brought to the planet. About how he was here to protect the weaker ones, the ones who made art, the ones who had families, the ones who led nations, as well as the ones who took care of sick kids. He was here to protect them.
But he was also here to protect the assholes. It wasn’t his job to judge what they did with their power. It was his job to protect them until they figured it out. And sometimes, he got full of himself, and he lectured new puppies.
“I, um, I don’t know what to say,” Yordan said.
“You don’t have to say or do anything. I kind of sprung this on you.”
Maybe. Maybe not. After all, he’d followed McNabb’s career, too. He’d heard about The Scot’s missions and strong leadership style. That was why he’d been so disappointed when the guy had turned coward and moved into management.
How idiotic that thought was now. First, the guy wasn’t a coward. No man turned himself into a kitten just to distract a panther that could have easily eaten him. Second, he’d seen all of McNabb’s emails. Shit, the guy juggled a ton. Management was not a coward’s way out of responsibility.
