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“What are you doing here?” Sebastian asked testily. He shoved one hand into the pocket of his slacks and loosely held Peyton’s shirt with the other.
“You don’t sound pleased to see me,” Jericho said, pouting playfully.
“What gave me away?”
Will joined them without his dog, who was chasing something in the water. He slung an arm across his exposed stomach as he came closer, and Jericho’s brain short-circuited. The bright-blue palm-tree board shorts he wore were wet and clung to his thighs. Hair was plastered to his forehead, dripping wet and following the lines of his nose, high cheekbones, and his lips and chin. Water glistened on his chest, droplets slowly sliding down the slender curves.
He was just as tall as Jericho remembered—taller than him, which was no small feat considering his own six-foot-three frame—and even sexier.
“Jericho,” Will said tentatively, unsure.
“William. A pleasure to see you again.” Their first encounter had been less than pleasant, but Jericho hadn’t been himself, quite literally. He hoped to make a better second first impression.
Will bit his lip, his fingers digging into his side. “I’m—I’m sorry about…” He gestured at Jericho’s arm. Jericho caught his hand before he could retreat and shifted closer so that Will’s fingers brushed against his upper arm. Maybe he could get them all to touch him, like some kind of tactile bingo.
“No harm, no foul,” Jericho said. “See? Good as new.” It wasn’t, of course. The scar would take time to disappear. Will couldn’t know that simply by looking at Jericho’s jumper.
Will stared intently at the spot as his fingers smoothed across the area. Did he know he was doing it? Jericho didn’t want to bring attention to it in case he stopped.
Peyton clearing his throat had Will dropping his arm. Red spread across his cheeks. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
Jericho trailed his gaze down Will’s figure, looking his fill. He was magnificently built. The slim tautness was enough to make Jericho want to learn all of him by touch alone. Trace all of it with his lips and tongue, eyes closed.
“You know, I thought you were pretty hot when you were fully geared, but,”—Jericho gestured at all of Will, becausedamn—“this is good. Better than good. I like this.” The tactical gear was a particular kind of “I want you to bend me over and wreck me.” The half-naked casual look was a whole other kind offuck me.
“What the hell does that mean?” Peyton asked defensively.
One side of Jericho’s mouth curled up. He had said what he had said, and there wasn’t any kind of subliminal messaging in his words. “Will is hot.”
Will blinked slowly, the red darkening. “Thank… you?” He looked around at the others as though wondering what the punchline was.
The punchline was that Jericho wanted to do shots off that stomach.
“You’re welcome.” So very welcome. Jericho could compliment these men all day.
“Your voice sounds different,” Will said. “Deeper.” His own voice had lowered a couple of octaves, and Jericho’s stomach flipped, everything in him responding.
“Pitching my voice isn’t hard, and it helps me to separate an undercover persona from myself.” Easier to discard them when he was done, as well.
“Which one is real?” Sebastian asked laconically. The light breeze ruffled his hair and the moonlight glinted off the barbell in his eyebrow. Unusual for a high-profile lawyer like him, and oddly attractive. It sure did something for Jericho. They all did.
“The million-dollar question, isn’t it? I’ve been many people. Maybe none of them are.” There were times, on longer assignments, that he’d struggled to reintegrate, but they were few and far between. The months he’d been with Howell and his group had been the longest in a while. They didn’t often need to bury themselves that deep. They worked better in the shadows. On the occasions that they did, though, Jericho was the one that went.
“Your eyes are different too,” Will said. He bent, peering to get a better look. Jericho was tempted to tilt his head and “accidentally” brush their lips together. He’d wanted to with Quinn and Sebastian as well. And Peyton had turned his crank from the moment he’d seen him through the window, taking down Howell and Derrick.
His gaze darted to Sebastian’s, and the familiar, prickly heat from yesterday was still there, along with confusion as he watched them. All of these men were terrible for Jericho’s blood pressure. This job was going to behelland not in the way he’d expected.
“I wear coloured contacts.”
“All the time?” Will asked curiously.
“I can sleep in these, so yes.” He preferred to take them out to sleep, but they were extended wear, so hecouldif he needed to. He used them specifically when he was going to be in one place away from home for an allotted period of time. If something happened in the middle of the night, he wouldn’t have time to put his contacts in, and suddenly having a different eye colour would be noticeable.
Peyton put a hand on the small of Will’s back. “What’s your real colour?”
“Another mystery,” Jericho said. He could count on two hands the number of people who had seen his real eye colour. He wouldn’t say no to getting any of these men naked, but revealing a part of himself that was so personal was another thing.
Sebastian shifted, sliding his arm around Peyton’s waist. “I should ask how you found me, but I can hazard a guess.”
