Wound Tight (Made in Jersey #4) Page 12

  The point was—

  Milo turned around, and Renner’s reproof leaked out through his ears.

  The sarcastic, quick-witted charmer from Boston looked like he’d just been informed his puppy had died. Oh, there was still some residual irritation etched into his features, too, but it was being tossed about in a sea of well fuck, everything hurts, doesn’t it?

  Renner was terrified of the hope that bloomed in his midsection. Terrified to think of what lay behind Milo’s torn-up expression. So he tried to wrangle his earlier wrath, but it came out sounding half assed. “That was unacceptable. Out of line doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

  “I know.”

  “You know.” Renner’s hands kept opening and closing, wanting to reach for Milo, so he fisted them and forced them to remain at his side. “Here we are again. That place where I’m left wondering where you get off thinking you have the right to stand between me and…anything. Be it bodily harm, being mugged, or dancing.”

  “Maybe I don’t have the right,” Milo said, so low Renner needed to strain to make out his words over the music. “Especially not after I tried to make you jealous.”

  “That’s—what?”

  Milo stepped into Renner’s space, their thighs brushing, his mouth coming so close Renner wet his lips without thinking. “You heard me.”

  Yes, he’d heard him. Loud and clear. And Renner didn’t know what reaction Milo desired after that pronouncement, but it probably wasn’t the jealousy that came rushing back in full force. Maybe even stronger than he’d felt it while watching other men touch…his man. Renner’s teeth snapped together of their own accord, his forehead grinding against Milo’s. “You don’t think I wanted go over there and start a fight of my own?”

  “Did you?” Milo’s exhale bathed his lips. “I’ve seen that right hook. It’s nasty.”

  Don’t. Don’t feel an explosion of male pride over that—

  Too late.

  “Yeah?” They were both breathing hard. “I wanted to give you one a minute ago.”

  Milo pressed their laps together and both men reached at the same time, dragging each other closer by the hips. Forcibly. “What changed?”

  There was no lying when they were pressed together head to toe, words being delivered right into each other’s mouths. “You looked upset,” Renner rasped.

  “I was fucking upset. I’ve been upset since you walked away and left me standing there.” Milo tilted his chin up and their lips locked together, but they didn’t kiss. “I’m upset right now, too, but I don’t really know why. Why, Renner?”

  Because the whole situation was a certified mess. Their attraction to each other was off the goddamn map. Despite their insane differences, they…worked. Which was incredible, but true. Renner had never been an overly romantic person, finding flattery and closeness difficult to bear, because his youth had been more about independence. This, right here…this closeness with Milo wasn’t forced or uncomfortable at all. It was like he’d found a lit-up harbor and could finally drop his anchor. But their course together had started out with Milo wanting to land another man. And Renner’s insecurities were so wrapped up in that fact, he couldn’t let it go. He’d managed to ignore the ground trembling at first, but now that Milo in his life could be a reality, doubts were popping up like weeds in an otherwise beautiful garden.

  “I asked you a question, boss man.”

  Being called the boss made Renner growl low in his throat. “You’re upset because…” Because you can sense I’m not 100 percent in. “You’re upset because you were forced to abandon your dance to come defend my honor.”

  Milo’s eyes narrowed as if he wanted to argue, but the mood had shifted away from anger. And it had shifted hard. At some point, they’d begun to sway to the music, and Milo’s cock was sliding side to side against Renner’s abdomen, fat and needy. Renner’s dick was wedged to the side, but with a discreet glance at their surroundings, he reached into his dress pants and adjusted it so they could rub their erections together. Sweet fuck, watching Milo’s eyes roll back in his head was better than landing any account. Hell, it was the beginning of an obsession.

  “No, I…” Milo visibly struggled to retain the thoughts in his head, all while they bumped and ground. “I didn’t stop dancing to come get Fuck Face off of you. I’d already stopped. I was going to…”

  Renner barely managed to contain a snort over “Fuck Face.” “You were going to what?”

  Milo moaned, his stomach hollowing. “I was going to ask what happened to the boss. Inside work. Outside work. That’s what you told me, but I didn’t think that man would let me out of his sight.” His eyes challenged Renner. “Guess I was wrong.”

  Oh. Oh hell no. He sure as hell hadn’t expected Milo to say that, which probably accounted for the speeding train of denial that rammed right into his stomach. The muscles in his neck and back grew uncomfortably tight, like they might snap. It was a fucking wake-up call. There was no other way to describe it. Milo was right. What the fuck had he been thinking bringing Milo here and letting other hands touch him? He must have placed some kind of mental block on the reality of how wrong it was. Now, that dam had cracked straight down the center, and the possessiveness he felt when touching Milo came pouring in. “I wouldn’t have let you leave with anyone,” Renner rasped. “God no. I wouldn’t have been able to handle that.”

  “Why?” Milo prodded. “Tell me, Renner, because I needed you to…mark me. I kept waiting and you never came. So I need to hear the reason you wouldn’t let me leave with anyone.”

  Renner wasn’t used to being questioned, and with anyone else, he would have shut it down by now. It wasn’t even that he owed it to Milo to answer…no. He wanted to. It felt natural. Everything about having this man’s body firm and full of life against his provoked honesty. He could say anything. Things that sounded stupid or smart. Because Milo would either understand or give him shit for it. And wasn’t that a fantastic fucking certainty? “Because I want you for myself.”

  Milo exhaled in a rush. “Okay. Good, dammit. I want you, too.” The club lights flashed in his eyes. Blue, pink, red. “You said it. I said it. No going back now.” He paused. “I need the boss man. All the time. That part of you can’t take any more vacations.”

  Renner closed his eyes, and for the first time in forever, let something other than his mind do the talking. Because Milo needed it. “I want to take you home and…do things to you. Things that make you moan into my sheets. And yeah, Milo, I want to be the boss during all of it.” Milo’s racing breath told him to keep going. “Next time you come to my office on a lunch break, I want you to sit on my desk and get sucked off. You’re going to be that employee that gets extra-special treatment from the boss, and I don’t give a fuck who complains about it. For everyone that’s got something to say, I’ll put my tongue in your mouth on the factory floor.”

  Milo’s hands twisted in the waistband of Renner’s pants. “I think you b-better stop talking or I’m not going to be able to walk out of here upright.”

  “I’m not done.”

  “Can you tell me the rest later? When we’re somewhere I can jack off?” Milo turned their bodies and pushed forward, beginning to openly hump Renner against the bar. He kept them under the guise of dancing by staying in sync with the fast, pounding music, but anyone with a brain knew they were two zippers away from fucking in public. A filthy, frantic point that Renner had never reached in private, let alone in a packed club. “I’m so hot right now. I can’t hear anymore.”

  “That’s too bad.” Renner scraped his teeth down Milo’s neck. “You’re going to take my cock tonight, pretty boy. I’m going to watch those tattoos flex and sweat while you take your first man and afterward…afterward, I think, I’m going to kiss you.” Okay. This was a detour. “I’m going to kiss your mouth and ask you questions I already know the answer to. Just because I like the way you say certain words with that accent.” The corner of Milo’s lips edged up and a laugh puffe
d out. “I’m going to make sure you’re okay about how I took you. How it felt. If it was too hard or fast. And I’ll know whether or not you’re lying by your eyes.”

  “You won’t catch me lying, boss man.”

  “Lyin’,” Renner repeated. “See, I knew you would say it that way.”

  Milo’s gaze dropped to his mouth, and he just kind of stared, his hips giving a slow roll that had Renner biting back a curse. “Is this really happening?”

  A memory of Milo on the dance floor between two men surfaced, along with the way he’d spoken about Travis initially. How his eyes had sparkled with humor while describing the chef. Renner pushed those memories to one side and focused on different thoughts. The way Milo had looked charging through the crowd to get between him and…Fuck Face. Or how he looked now, eyelids heavy with lust and hope tingeing his voice. All these different doubts and possibilities rumbled in the wrestling ring of Renner’s mind and in the end, neither of them claimed victory.

  Necessity won the battle, instead. He needed Milo tonight. Milo needed him.

  Tomorrow, Renner would fight the next war.

  The one with his mind.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Milo tried to play it cool as he walked into Renner’s apartment. Then he caught a glimpse of his face in the entry hall mirror and was forced to accept he wasn’t pulling it off. Not by a damn sight. His sudden case of clammy hands probably had something to do with Renner’s doorman being dressed better than him. Or the hallway—hell, the elevator—having nicer carpet than his apartment back in Hook.

  All those dents in his self-confidence came before he actually turned the corner and viewed the living room.

  He hadn’t been intimidated by his boss’s apartment back in Hook, because the unfurnished, no-nonsense space hadn’t spoken of Renner’s wealth. Well, this place was going to lose its fucking voice, it was screaming so loud. Tasteful, masculine. Polished, pricey. All of those descriptions fit the gigantic space with a view overlooking downtown Manhattan. Renner didn’t even have to bother turning on a light, because the glittering city illuminated the dark living space for them. White light bounced off chrome finishing on the oversize coffee table, the stocked wine cabinet, and gleaming wooden mantelpiece. Navy-blue runners ran behind the modern-style couch, then off toward the kitchen, which lay in the opposite direction. God, it even smelled like crispy money that had been spritzed with Hugo Boss. Or whatever the expensive version of Hugo Boss happened to be.

  Behind Milo, Renner cleared his throat. “Are you hungry? The fridge should be stocked.”

  Who did that? Fairies? “I can always eat.” Get out of your head and stop questioning your right to be here. Fastening a smile onto his face, Milo turned and leaned against the breakfast bar that looked into the kitchen. “You have any cereal?”

  “Cereal.” Renner paused in the act of retrieving two liquor tumblers from the cabinet. “It’s nearly midnight and you want cereal?”

  “If we’re talking about things we want, I wish we were back in the club.” Until the words came out of his mouth, Milo hadn’t even been aware of their existence. “You got weird on me during the ride over. And now I’m getting weird on you because this place is like a fucking palace.” Milo shook his head and laughed a little. “I just want us back kissing in that club.”

  Renner’s hand was suspended in midair, holding a bottle of Johnnie Walker. “I don’t know if you saying that made it less weird. Or weirder.”

  “Me, either.” Milo hopped up onto one of the breakfast stools, sighing over how comfortable the damn thing was. Like a cloud for his ass. “But I usually figure things out over a bowl of Frosted Mini-Wheats. Do you have anything resembling that? Or does everything in your apartment contain quinoa?”

  “Hey, you’re the one on my case about being healthier.”

  “Cereal doesn’t count.” Milo grinned. “Everyone knows that.”

  Renner gave him a skeptical face, then poured two generous portions of whiskey into each glass, sliding one in Milo’s direction. “I have Grape Nuts.”

  Milo dropped his head into his hands. “Fuck my life.”

  When he looked up again, Renner was placing a bowl and spoon in front of him…and an unopened box of Peanut Butter Crunch. “Gotcha.”

  Oh man. Wow. The way Renner winked at Milo sucked the breath out of his lungs. Or maybe it was how he stood, hip propped against the counter in his socks, nursing whiskey. So cool and in charge, that arrogant head tilt out to play. Or maybe he wasn’t so in control, because what he said next made Milo spill cereal on the counter mid-pour.

  “I got weird on you because I don’t usually bring men to my home.” Renner’s mouth hovered just above the edge of his glass. “There’s usually a designated meeting place. Somewhere neutral and impersonal. It’s all very clear-cut.”

  Milo poured the milk. “And this…isn’t.”

  Renner raised an eyebrow. “Do you think it is?”

  “No.” He took his time chewing the first bite of cereal. “I got weird on you because this place is a lot nicer than I expected.” He set down the spoon. “Actually, I couldn’t even have expected this level of nice in a million years because I’ve never seen anything like it. Who stocks your fridge?”

  “The concierge.”

  “Well…okay. Sure.” Ignoring the roiling in his stomach, Milo hopped off the stool. “So it’s all out on the table, right? You’re weird because you have boundary issues and I’m weird because I couldn’t afford your ottoman. Is that it?”

  Renner inclined his head and looked away. A yes? It felt like a no. Until Renner took a swallow of his drink and said, “There is something else.”

  The bottom of Milo’s stomach dropped out and hit the floor. Oh Jesus. It could be anything, couldn’t it? Maybe he was a DC Comics fanatic and needed to warn Milo before they went into his Batman-themed bedroom. “Yeah?”

  The boss man stared at Milo so long, he wondered if the guy had fallen into a trance. “Um.” Renner finished his drink in one swallow. “Samantha and Duke are having a baby. They’ve asked me to be the godfather.”

  “What?” Milo did a double take. “Not a Batman room.”

  Renner reared back. “What was that?”

  “Never mind.” Milo put his hands on his hips and laughed. “Holy shit—that’s amazing. Duke must be losing his mind.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “In a good way.”

  “Yes.”

  There was a melting sensation in Milo’s stomach, put there by the way Renner ducked his head, as if he didn’t want another human being to see him smile. “You’re nervous about being the godfather. I can tell. But you’re going to be the badass that gets to swoop in with presents and fly away. Like Batman. That’s what I meant…when I said that…”

  “Is it?” Renner’s eyes narrowed as he poured himself a second glass of Johnnie Walker. “Because—”

  Thankful for a distraction, Milo grabbed Renner’s wrist. “Whiskey and heart pills don’t make good bunkmates.” When Renner rolled his eyes, Milo brushed his thumb across the inside of Renner’s wrist and felt his pulse kick. “For me?”

  After a short stare-down, Renner set the bottle on the counter. “You seem pretty sure I would make concessions for you.”

  Ah God. The boss man’s voice had deepened. A lot. It smoked out from between Renner’s lips and slithered in between Milo’s ribs, gathering in his stomach, like a living thing. “Yeah…maybe I am sure you’ll make concessions for me. But I don’t know why.”

  Renner advanced, backing Milo across the kitchen, stopping a breath away from where Milo’s hips met the opposite counter. “I don’t know either, because I’ve never had to think about it before.” He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, then reached down and began unfastening Milo’s jeans. “But if I had to guess, I would say…I want to make you happy. In this kitchen. Everywhere.” His knuckles pushed down on Milo’s erection while their gazes held. “And I want to give you vic
tories, so you’ll let me take mine in bed. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes.” Milo probably would have said anything as long as Renner didn’t stop finding the fastest way to his cock. His erection had been stretching out his underwear since they’d driven into Manhattan together hours earlier, and it just wanted to be used. It remembered that hand job in the dressing room and was aching for more. Truthfully, though, Renner’s explanation did make sense. The man in front of him liked to dominate, liked to call the shots, and since Milo had a lot of pride, he countered that aggression by giving in elsewhere. Somehow it worked, and Milo didn’t want to question a damn thing. Not now, when he was so turned on he could barely see straight. “I-it makes sense.”

  Renner shoved a hand into the opening he’d created in Milo’s jeans, taking hold of his dick and almost making his knees lose power. “Those concessions no longer include dancing with other men. I want to be goddamn clear about that.”

  Milo literally could not control the sound that escaped him. It might have been the first whimper of his life, but ask him if he was ashamed. The answer was no. Was it unbelievable that he felt like he’d slipped into a second skin? Yes. But there it was. Nodding at Renner’s demand while the man held him in a don’t-fuck-with-me grip was exactly where he wanted to be. Nowhere else. Not to mention, his heart was pounding in an erratic Morse code of its own over Renner’s taking verbal ownership. The specific kind. The kind he’d been craving tonight back at the club, and now that he had it, exhilaration blew up his spine. “You’ve made yourself clear,” Milo managed around the tightness in his throat. “That’s exactly what I need, too.”

  “Good.” Renner stroked him. Hard. So hard Milo’s legs kicked back and pounded against the kitchen counter. “Get this cock into my bed where it belongs.”

  When he released Milo, they squared off a little. Like two boxers who’d gone one round and learned each other’s flavor, but there hadn’t been a knockout yet. There was a promise floating between them that said it was coming, though. Maybe more than once and in different forms. But Milo had never been a coward, so he stripped off his shirt and tossed it over his shoulder, watching Renner’s eyes darken as he strutted toward the bedroom.