Fair Game - lanyon Josh - Страница 36
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Suddenly he wanted—craved—Tucker like he’d wanted nothing in his life before. His hands slid into the softness of Tucker’s hair and he tried to drag his head up to taste his mouth again, he felt famished for the taste of him, like he could never again get enough of him. The hot velvet of Tucker’s lips had fastened on Elliot’s throat and he was sucking him, marking him. His hands fumbled over Elliot’s back, pulling at his wet clothes.
Elliot wrenched Tucker’s leather jacket open as he ground his hips against Tucker’s. In some unlit corner of his brain he knew this was crazy. His knee was killing him, was not going to support him for much longer, but of far greater importance seemed the erection shoving against the constriction of his jeans. Biological imperative. That’s what you called that. He needed Tucker. Needed to fuck and be fucked. Something to do with surviving a very close call, with almost dying, but that didn’t change the fact that it was Tucker finally here in the right place at the right time.
And if that enormous straining hardness thrusting back at him was any indication, Elliot was not alone in this extremity of need.
He groaned. Tucker echoed that groan. “Jesus, Elliot…”
Tucker’s large hands slid down, settling on Elliot’s ass, kneading him through the soft wet denim, encouraging that feverish rubbing motion, gathering Elliot closer still—yielding to Elliot’s own ruthless manhandling.
And then suddenly the world gave a great heave and turned upside down.
Or maybe it was Elliot who turned upside down because all at once he was sitting in the mud and Tucker had his arm around him. His breath was warm against Elliot’s face, and he was saying, “You’re okay. Are you okay? Take deep breaths.”
“What the… What happened?” He felt foggy, disconnected. He was grateful for Tucker’s arm around him.
“Take it easy. Take it slowly.”
“That was…some kiss. I think the earth moved.”
“I think you went weak in the knees.”
“Mechanical f-failure,” Elliot said through chattering teeth. He sincerely wished he could manage a good old-fashioned faint because if the pain in his knee didn’t stop soon he was going to be sick. Possibly on the wide, comfortable shoulder Tucker was gallantly offering.
Tucker said, “Let’s get out of here. Let’s go someplace warm.”
Elliot nodded. “How did you know?”
“How’d I know what?”
“That I was under fire?”
“I saw the ducks in a panic, but I couldn’t see you anywhere. Then I thought I saw muzzle flash in the trees.” A shudder rippled through Tucker’s large frame. “For a minute I thought…”
“Me too.” He needed Tucker’s help to stand, to hobble out of the mud and slimy grass. The escalating pain eroded his previous sexual excitement and energy. In fact, he was willing to attribute that astonishing surge of lust to shock. His leg wouldn’t respond properly and his knee felt like someone had jammed a blade under the cartilage and was twisting it. He was terrified he might have damaged the reconstructed joint, set his recovery back. He couldn’t go through that again. Couldn’t go through being helpless and dependent. The fear made it almost impossible to concentrate on anything else.
He remembered the dream where Tucker had ordered him to stop crying, and he bit down on the distress threatening to tear from his throat.
“I didn’t get a look at the guy. Did you?”
Elliot shook his head.
“I only had a glimpse of his vehicle. Black or maybe navy. It could have been a truck or an SUV. I couldn’t tell through the trees.”
“Why are you here?” he gasped. “I thought we were meeting at the Black Bull?”
“I don’t know why. I thought I ought to…walk the crime scene with you.”
Elliot lifted his head to give Tucker a look of disbelief.
“Are you complaining?”
Elliot shook his head.
They reached Tucker’s Xterra. Tucker helped him inside and Elliot collapsed in the seat, hands gripping his thigh, jaw gritted against giving voice to pain and shock.
He was vaguely aware that Tucker was calling it in, summoning aid.
“Ask them if there have been other disappearances. Disappearances not related to the school. Prostitutes. Immigrants. Ask them to check.”
Tucker threw him a keen look. He was back on the phone, talking again, but Elliot tuned it out, taking physical stock, telling himself it wasn’t as bad as it felt. His knee wasn’t bleeding that much. Hardly at all. His ear was bleeding a lot more, and that was from a tiny scratch.
Tucker finished his call, hung up and turned to Elliot. “We’re not sitting around here waiting for them. What do you need? An emergency room or your own doctor?”
What he wanted was the pain in his knee to stop—followed by a good, strong drink and bed. With or without company. He’d prefer company although he wasn’t going to be up to much till he got the pain under control. Tucker’s concern felt good, though. So had Tucker’s arms about him. Very good.
Elliot put his head back against the seat. Squinched his eyes closed. “The health clinic at the college,” he mumbled. “They should be able to fix me up.”
“We’ll have to come back for your car.”
He nodded. Made himself say, “I need my cell. And my backup piece is in the glove compartment.”
Tucker swore. “Hang on.” He got out of the car and Elliot hastily wiped his eyes. He was not about to let Tucker see him in tears because he had a boo-boo.
Tucker was back in seconds. “Anything else is going to have to wait.”
Fine. Elliot didn’t care. Tucker could roll his car in the lake for all it mattered right now. Just get him someplace where they could make the pain stop.
Tucker turned on the engine, switched on the heater. It blasted out in an arctic gust.
“Shit. Hold on.”
Elliot couldn’t stop shivering, but that wasn’t the cold—though, granted, it was cold. Where did people get the idea Tacoma wasn’t cold? He jerked out, “It’s okay. Just…please. Drive.” He didn’t want to plead, but even he could hear the pain in his voice.
“Right. Are you—”
There was a note in Tucker’s voice that Elliot had never heard before. He pried open his eyes to stare at Tucker, and saw his jaw clenching and unclenching. He looked like he was in as much pain as Elliot. He looked like he didn’t know what to do. That had to be a first for Tucker.
Witnessing that stripped bare emotion helped. Elliot reached over and gripped Tucker’s thigh. “Hey. I’m okay.”
Tucker threw him a startled look.
Elliot managed a twitch of facial muscles intended as a smile. “Get me to the clinic. I’m a lot better company when I’m heavily medicated.”
Tucker made a sound between a drawn breath and a laugh. He nodded and reached for the clutch.
Elliot closed his eyes again. “I was standing there thinking how stupid it would be to shoot someone in that field, and next thing I know, I’m being shot at.” He caught his breath as the Xterra bounced over rocky ground. “He had to be watching me. Tailing me.”
Tucker’s voice sounded a long way off as he replied, “Sure looks that way to me, Professor. First round goes to the Unsub.”
Chapter Nineteen
Sunlight through clouds, the white sparkle of foam, the swell of deep ocean waves… He could hear the pound of the surf, the cries of gulls, feel the salty sting of spray…
Elliot blinked at the photograph of the ocean on the opposite wall, drifting slowly, peacefully from exhausted, drugged sleep to the gradual, dreamy realization that he was awake. Awake and safe in a warm, comfortable bed that was not his own. And if he could hear the pound of the ocean surf, he was still tripping because this Seattle apartment was nowhere near the water. That soothing roar was actually the sound of traffic outside.
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