Wound Tight (Made in Jersey #4) Page 14

  A blast of hunger clawed up Renner’s spine, and he experienced a head rush of responsibility along with the incredible need. Milo begun pumping his hips into Renner’s fist, and there was no holding himself back anymore. Nothing could keep him from thrusting his remaining inches into Milo’s tight entry, holding himself deep as Milo shuddered beneath him…shuddered, sucked in a breath, then continued to fuck Renner’s fist.

  “Oh God,” Milo ground out. “Yes. More, please. Yes.”

  Renner didn’t need any more encouragement. He planted his free hand on the mattress and let himself go, canting his hips up and back, using that primed asshole to take out his greedy lust. Fuck, the texture was so raw, Renner’s neck lost power, his jaw going slack at the rough, narrow heat he’d been gifted with. “Yeah, I feel your ass is working up and down against my stomach. Over and over because your cock is so swollen and it needs to fuck my hand.” Milo’s moans told him it was okay to pump harder and he did, damn near losing his mind over the slap of his heavy sack against Milo’s taut cheeks. “I think you’re going to be climbing the stairs to my office early and often, aren’t you?” He sank his teeth into the meat of Milo’s shoulder and listened to his breath stutter and rush in. “‘Stop working and ride me, Renner. You broke me in and now I can’t think of anything but your cock.’ Is that what you’ll say?”

  “Yes.”

  Renner nudged Milo’s head until he could see his face. There were bloody teeth marks on his lower lip and sweat glistening on his forehead. Signs of struggling that might have worried Renner if the other man’s eyes weren’t bleary with sex. “God, you are fucking gorgeous,” Renner said, his voice shaking, out of his control along with the rest of his body, his muscles quickening with each passing second, preparing for release. “Gorgeous.”

  Milo moved and their mouths connected, lips working together instead of battling, like they’d been doing before. The tinge of blood made the kiss a promise as their lips opened wide, so wide, allowing tongues to sweep in. Tasting, licking, flickering.

  That promise of a kiss was what it took for Renner’s dam to finally crumble into a heap, and with it, his willpower lost the fight, too. Milo’s breath shortened and his body stiffened, especially his rounded, sweat-slicked, clenching backside, words chanting from his mouth that translated into I’m coming, Renner. Renner understood him perfectly, because Milo’s closing up around his cock made his own release pulverize him seconds later. He sank deep, so deep, into Milo’s undulating body as their tongues did the same and rode the thunderheads.

  They didn’t move right away when the sweat began to cool moments later, as if both of them were wary of the magic dissipating. But it didn’t. And when Renner pulled Milo into the crook of his neck and heard his breath go heavy with sleep, Renner was so sure nothing could take away the magic.

  But fate had a funny way of proving one wrong.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Milo woke up with a sense of impending doom.

  He didn’t know where it came from. Hadn’t felt anything like it since he’d been overseas and woken to the sound of blasts in the distance. Or heard a fellow soldier fighting off demons on the middle of the night. This was a different kind of doom, though. It wasn’t something he could pinpoint, but he somehow knew the day would end much differently than last night.

  Last night.

  Milo blew out a breath and opened his eyes, well aware that Renner wouldn’t be lying beside him. When they’d walked into the bedroom the night before, his surroundings had been the furthest thing from his mind. He explored the sunlit space now through fresh eyes and felt the pit in his stomach yawn wider.

  There was a fucking chandelier over the bed.

  Turning his head toward the window, he felt the rasp of silk beneath his neck and wished—wished like hell—Renner had stayed in bed. His presence would have guaranteed Milo wouldn’t think of anything else. Like how high the rent on the apartment must be. Wait, no. It was a co-op, meaning Renner had bought the place. Probably paid somewhere near eight figures for it. Tipped the doorman at Christmas and everything.

  Okay. Last night this gap in their economic status hadn’t been a big deal, and it still wasn’t this morning. Milo had meant what he said. Maybe the fact that Renner was his boss and could buy and sell him should get under his skin more. Fact was, it didn’t. Renner’s power and influence were secondary to how he felt about the actual man himself, but they were still a turn-on. My boyfriend is a big deal and he earned that right, so kiss my ass.

  Would he ever have the chance to say those words? Honest to God, Milo didn’t know. Because while their differences weren’t a deal breaker for Milo, he wondered if they might be for Renner. Was a security guard enough for him? What would happen if they decided to be together? Would Milo just sit around and wait for Renner’s monthly drop-in to the factory?

  Panic had Milo sitting up in bed, looking out through the pristine window toward New Jersey, which wasn’t visible so far east, but he knew it lay just on the other side of the Hudson. He lifted a hand to massage the stiffness from his neck. It had gotten that way from using Renner’s shoulder as a pillow, and he wouldn’t trade the sore muscles for anything. Not a damn thing.

  You and Renner are together now. You’ll figure everything out one fight at a time.

  No other options.

  Because his feelings for the man who’d left him alone in the bed? They were real. They were raw and new and scary…and they weren’t going anywhere. When he’d met Travis, his attraction to the chef had almost been born of curiosity. Holy shit, those images I’ve been substituting for women weren’t a mistake. I can’t ignore them now that I’m attracted to a specific man. He’d almost felt more…grateful to Travis than anything. For not giving him the option of hiding anymore. When he thought of the perpetually smiling blond now, his memories were fond, but they didn’t make his palms sweat. They didn’t make his pulse go wild.

  Not like Renner. Strong, stubborn, secretive Renner.

  Intuition—or maybe the empty side of the bed—told Milo he had a battle on his hands. Right now. This morning. Over money, geography, maybe even their age difference…he didn’t know. And he didn’t give a fuck, either.

  Milo swung his legs over the side of the bed to go find out what he had to beat.

  …

  Renner was about to make a monumental mistake.

  But he’d opened his eyes this morning knowing it was inevitable.

  Without bothering to put on a shirt, Renner had snagged a pair of boxers from the dresser drawer and left Milo sleeping in his bed. Not without stopping and staring at the mess of Milo’s dark hair on his pillow, the tattooed muscles sprawled in four directions, for longer than he would admit out loud, because it would make him a creeper.

  Milo. Goddammit, he was a sight first thing in the morning. If waking up with that man in his arms was something that could be procured with money, life would be so much easier, wouldn’t it? But Milo could belong to Renner only if he paid a very different kind of fee. He had to hand over his heart. Maybe somewhere in the darkness last night, Renner had already offered it to him. Only in pieces, though. With qualifications.

  And Milo deserved better. He deserved an intact heart.

  Unfortunately, there was something preventing Renner from taking that leap. It had been in the back of his mind during every single interaction with Milo, taunting him, lying in wait to rattle him at inopportune moments. The only way to combat the worry was to fight it head-on. Which, of course, was a huge mistake. One that he’d been destined to make.

  Renner set down his cup of coffee on the kitchen counter, hesitated for a split second, then booted his laptop. He watched the display appear, the icons growing more distinct along with the dread in his chest. Dousing it with coffee didn’t work, only making the sick feeling worse. So he ripped off the Band-Aid, hating himself all the while.

  Opening the browser, he searched the words: “Travis, celebrity chef.”

 
There he was.

  Renner’s stomach dropped.

  You shouldn’t have looked.

  Jesus, the guy could have been Renner’s college boyfriend. Or the identical rowing teammate for whom he’d blown off Renner. Sure, there were differences. The chef looked more down-to-earth. More comfortable in his own skin than any college student. His hair was shaggy, his flannel shirt casual. The similarities were what caught Renner right in the chin, though. Happy. The guy was so damn happy in every picture Renner scrolled past. Smiling while he chopped some cilantro or squeezed a lime. A lot like Milo.

  Perfect for Milo.

  Young, optimistic, charismatic. Married to his job, but clearly finding time to live life. Travis was a rock climbing, karaoke singing, fashion show attending motherfucker. Renner hated him. Because he could offer Milo a place to flourish. A place to finally be himself with a boyfriend who didn’t fight him on everything or spend countless hours working. A boyfriend who didn’t already have a heart condition at the age of thirty-three.

  Renner must have been a secret glutton for punishment, because although a voice screamed in the back of his mind to shut the laptop, he hit play on a video of Travis instead.

  Australian? The fucking guy was Australian?

  “What are you doing?” Milo said from his bedroom doorway. “Renner. What the hell?”

  Pressure pushing from all sides in his throat, Renner slammed the laptop shut and drank a mouthful of coffee, the liquid burning all the way down. “Good morning, Milo.”

  A dark eyebrow went up. “I think you know where to shove that good morning.”

  Milo was tense as he walked from the bedroom, wearing only a pair of gray briefs. And more than a little outrage. Which didn’t stop Renner from getting hard behind the kitchen counter, because the man was bed-tousled and messy. Now was not the time to think of messing him up even further, but Renner couldn’t stop himself. Their sex last night couldn’t even be described with words, it had been so…raw. They’d been the only two people in the universe. But Renner had just allowed in one more, hadn’t he?

  Hip cocked, eyes on fire, Milo jabbed a finger in his direction. “You better not be thinking about fucking right now.” Panic laced into his expression as he looked between Renner and the laptop. “Not after that. Why, Renner?”

  “I had to know.” It sounded stupid when voiced out loud, of course, and Milo’s humorless smirk confirmed that fact. Renner could feel his knee-jerk reaction rising to the surface. Could feel the defensiveness taking over. But he was too fucked up over witnessing the glory of Australian Rock Climbing Travis to keep it leashed. “Don’t act like this was some huge betrayal on my part, Milo. You came to me asking for help in talking to this guy. Asking him out. If the roles were reversed, you would have done the same thing.” Renner flattened a hand on the laptop. “He’s the reason we started spending time together and he’s been here all along, so don’t come at me like this.”

  The tension leached from Milo’s body, his expression losing about 90 percent of its anger. Softening in a way that made Renner want to start the morning from scratch. “Okay. Yeah. You know what, you’re right.” Renner had barely recovered from his shock when Milo continued. “I’m sorry. I thought…I thought you would realize it was you and me now. He wasn’t in the picture anymore until you brought him in.”

  Renner ignored the blast of relief. “Look, I don’t have an easy time trusting men.”

  “Why?”

  Nails raked down the back of Renner’s neck. He didn’t want to talk about the past or how it had crippled him. Not to this man, who’d so bravely entered a new world and never looked back. It was humiliating. It would change the way Milo looked at him, and Renner couldn’t stand the prospect of that happening.

  Instead of honesty, instead of keeping down the wall they’d worked so hard to crumble, Renner did the opposite. He built an even higher barrier and flew an idiot flag from the parapet.

  “I need you to go to Boston.” The words were like broken glass coming out of his mouth. “I need you to go meet with Travis as planned and make sure there’s nothing there.”

  Milo rocked back on his heels, a hand reaching to the couch for balance. “What?”

  “Please don’t make me say it again.”

  Heavy silence passed. “If it was so hard to say it, why do it at all?”

  Renner didn’t have an answer to that. It was too logical when set against a world where Milo eventually decided someone else was a better option. Better options were everywhere. Not just in Boston. They were on the internet and in clubs, waiting to swoop in the second Renner turned his back. “I’ll be in Hook when you come back. If you still want me there.”

  Apparently Milo had been keeping himself in check, because as soon as those words were out of Renner’s mouth, his chest started to shudder up and down with agitated breaths. “I don’t know a lot about relationships. With men or women. But I know this relationship you and I have…it doesn’t work if you keep letting me go. We agreed on this last night. Even if you have your reasons. All you’re doing is making me less and less secure.” His throat worked. “Eventually I’m going to wonder if you want me around at all.”

  “Milo.” They waited. But Renner didn’t speak. What was there to say? Stay? The fucking worry wasn’t going anywhere. Tomorrow morning he’d be back to wondering when Milo would start considering his options and looking for the escape hatch. “I’m the first man you’ve been with. It’s normal to feel a strong attachment—”

  “Stop. Just stop. The attachment was there before we ever touched.” While Renner was forced to acknowledge the truth of that statement, Milo lifted a tense shoulder and let it fall. “Tell me to stay. Tell me you can’t stand the idea of me with someone else. Please.”

  Cymbals crashed inside Renner’s head, but nothing came out of his mouth. All he could see was Milo breaking up with him in some coffee shop, while Travis waited impatiently in the corner.

  “Okay.” Milo laughed, but it was empty of humor. “I guess we’re done here.”

  Milo spun on a heel and disappeared into the bedroom. Renner fought the tug-of-war with two impulses. Go to him, pin him to the bed, and apologize until his voice gave out. Or let him go and stand firm on what he believed was the right decision. It was. If Milo came back from Boston, having decided he was really no longer interested in Travis, they would build on a more solid foundation. One Renner could be sure of.

  He was feeling the opposite of sure when Milo breezed past, dressed in the clothes he’d worn last night, smelling like Renner’s bed. Before he could reach the door, Milo stopped and addressed Renner. “I can forgive you for being insecure over Travis. That’s on me, okay? I’m sorry he was the reason I used to get close to you. Because now I know that’s what I really wanted all along.”

  The floor turned to water under Renner’s feet. “Jesus, Milo—”

  “But I can’t forgive you for telling me I don’t know my own mind.” He twisted the dead bolt on the door and wrenched it open. “I spent too damn long not sure of myself and I’m done. I know who I am and what I want. I’m going to Boston to prove that to myself. Not you.” Milo took one step out the door and paused without looking back. “Don’t forget to take your heart pills.”

  When the door closed, it took several moments for Renner to move. And when he did, it was only to slide down to the floor, where he stayed, trying to breathe through the agony.

  Chapter Twenty

  Milo had worn the stupid jacket for his dinner with Travis just to be defiant.

  Or maybe he’d worn it to feel close to Renner, the prick.

  Yeah. He wasn’t sure of his reasoning regarding the fake leather outerwear from hell. There was no way to be positive of anything when your heart was a mangled mess. You simply got up, dressed yourself, and kept moving. Right? You didn’t get to sleep in on the morning after combat. A solider woke up to the sound of his alarm, shined his fucking boots, and got ready to do it all over again. Bleedi
ng battle wounds be damned.

  After taking the train back to Hook, he’d hit the ground running by packing for his trip to Boston. If he’d stopped to think about Renner sending him off to another man after the night they’d spent together, he might not see the mission through. And Milo was determined. As he’d said to Renner on his way out the door, he wasn’t having dinner with Travis to prove to Renner his feelings were genuine. No. This was about believing in himself after years of questions.

  He was in love with Renner Bastion, and his date with Travis could be a five-star night with belly dancers, fireworks, and a roasted pig—nothing was changing his mind.

  Milo waited for the busy Boston intersection to clear, then started across the street toward the restaurant where Travis would be. With every step Milo took, he felt worse. Felt like dying, actually. His air passages were thinner, his blood cold. Renner, you fucker. Just like being in the club last night, he’d been abandoned. Treated carelessly. And it went against everything he needed from Renner. This connection between them relied on Renner being possessive and yeah, maybe a little controlling. It depended upon Milo being loyal to a fault.

  All of this. All of it was wrong.

  How ridiculous that he was scanning the street for Renner. How embarrassingly naive. But Milo ached down to the soles of his feet to see that big, suited figure striding down the sidewalk, putting a halt to Milo’s progress into the restaurant. Come on. Come through.

  Milo waited a full count to ten with his hand on the entrance door, before giving up and walking inside.

  …

  Five hours earlier

  Renner stared at the glow of his office computer screen in disbelief.

  It had worked. Milo’s plan to land the account had worked.

  After firing off proposals to several of Rocky Mountain Ltd.’s competitors, Renner now had an email from the CEO saying they were reconsidering their relationship with their current manufacturer and wanted to meet with Renner in person. Which was a foot in the door and in Renner’s case, as good as a signed deal. He never walked out of a boardroom with anything less.