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“Are you flirting with me, Chris?” Jamie chuckled, his grin playful and mischievous.
“Do you want me to be?”
It was out of his mouth before he could even think about stopping it.
Jamie stilled, his smile slipping slightly as he looked at Chris and bit his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth for a moment. Then he started to laugh, pushed aside his empty glass, and stood. “I think I should probably go to bed before I come up with an incredibly inappropriate response that is likely to constitute sexual harassment.” Jamie smiled and began to walk backwards unsteadily. “G’night, Chris.”
“Goodnight…”
Chris watched Jamie climb the stairs with Boomer following him, casting glances over his shoulder until he disappeared from sight. The second he did, Chris’s head fell forward onto the countertop, and he groaned.
What the hell was he thinking?
Chapter 7
They didn’t mention it the next day, or the next. But Jamie couldn’t deny that there had been a shift in their relationship. He wanted to blame it on the alcohol, but he couldn’t entirely justify that—Chris had initiated, and he’d had far less than Jamie had that day. And to be honest, if Jamie had been just a little more drunk, he could probably have guaranteed that he would have pulled Chris onto that kitchen counter and had him right then.
Because he was now acutely aware of an attraction going both ways, and that wasn’t really a good thing. He and Chris could remain friends quite easily without letting on to the Higher Powers, but anything more than that was going to get Chris fired, and Jamie couldn’t have that. Yet he also couldn’t have anybody else on his security detail. He trusted Chris. He wanted Chris, not some personality-free goon who was more than willing to let Jamie stew in his own messed up mind. Chris drew Jamie out of his own space; he enjoyed Chris’s company; they had common ground; they had trust.
But perhaps Foster and Hall had a point—some boundaries were maybe good. And Jamie really did try.
They pretty much went on as normal. His mother had called about arranging a small party for Jamie’s twenty-sixth birthday that was coming up on March 10th. She wanted to hold it in New York—not a huge affair, just some family and friends, enough to fill a small function room in a bar or restaurant. Jamie liked the idea and President Barratt confirmed that she would schedule time off for it and get Natalie to sort the details and get back to him.
Jamie took Chris shopping in town, or, more to the point, Jamie went shopping in town and Chris came with him as the Blues Brothers followed at a distance. They had agreed that Chris play the part of the professional Secret Service agent when they were in public together. It wasn’t so bad now that Jamie knew that it was going to happen, but still he couldn’t wait for when they got home and the ice could crack, sweet and warm Chris flooding back.
But still, it was getting increasingly hard for Jamie to keep himself in check when he sat on the couch next to Chris every night, their shoulders bumping each other as they sipped beer from the bottle and shared chips or M&Ms while watching a movie. Jamie was starting to notice the way Chris threw back his head when he laughed, showing a vast expanse of throat that Jamie desperately wanted to touch, to put his lips on the pulse point and suck until he left a mark. And Chris’s laugh itself was enough to make Jamie’s stomach flutter. He had a gentle and easy humor, and it attracted Jamie like a magnet.
So, Jamie bit his lip, and he smiled and laughed, too, and he tried so hard not to lean over on that sofa and pin Chris to it and kiss him for all that he was worth. Because that just wouldn’t accomplish anything, would it?
* * * *
Chris couldn’t quite believe that he’d flirted (and he had—quite blatantly), and for days afterward he had mulled over Jamie’s response to it. It was almost as though Jamiehadwanted Chris to be flirting with him, and Chris knew that was such a bad idea.
It was even harder not to flirt in the evenings, when it was just the two of them, sitting together on the couch and watching movies. Jamie always seemed to sit a little too close, but Chris found himself not wanting to move. It felt amazing to have another human being feel so comfortable to be around him, who laughed at his terrible jokes. Chris smiled to himself and reached for the bag of potato chips in Jamie’s hand, only to have them snatched away before he could get hold of one.
“Hey! Give me those!”
“Nope!” Jamie cackled, leaning backwards and holding the chips just out of reach.
“I could hurt you.” Chris grinned, trying to grab them out of Jamie’s grasp, but he leaned back even further.
“Do it, I dare you,” Jamie retorted.
“Jamie!”
Chris shifted his body to lean over him, but he leaned too far, and his extra weight caused Jamie to topple backwards with a shout, bringing Chris down on top of him. Chips flew out of the packet and landed everywhere as Jamie’s back hit the couch and Chris’s chest hit Jamie’s, causing them both to let out an exclamation of surprise and discomfort.
They lay in shock for a split second until Jamie began to laugh and Chris couldn’t help but follow suit. Jamie’s head was tilted back, delicious throat exposed as he cackled gleefully, eyes closed in mirth. Chris’s laughter faded slowly. He was close—too close. As Jamie’s head tilted back, their noses brushed against each other, then Jamie’s own laughter caught in his throat. His blue eyes were dark, pupils huge. Both of their chests were heaving, and not with exertion. All it would have taken was to move an inch, but they were both frozen to the spot, neither daring to shatter the tension.
It was a bad plan. A bad, bad plan. And they both knew it.
Chris forced himself to move first, backwards, into a sitting position, then offered his hand to Jamie to help him sit, too. Neither of them said a word and Chris wasn’t sure if it was through embarrassment or something else.
Jamie cleaned up the spilled chips and they watched the rest of the movie in silence, still sitting too close to each other than was necessary until it was finished, and Jamie stood, uttering a quiet, “Goodnight, Chris,” before climbing the stairs to bed.
* * * *
Chris lay in his own bed for a whole hour afterwards, trying not to think about what had almost happened, but failed miserably. Jamie’s mouth had been so close to his, wet and slick from where he kept biting and licking at his lips, blue eyes dark. It would have been so very easy for Chris to close the gap, to lean forward just a little and suck that bottom lip into his own mouth, to gently bring down his teeth over it.
