Josh Lanyon - The Mermaid Murders

“I feel like I’m— I don’t feel like I’m—”

Kennedy was watching him with that alert blue gaze.

Profiling me , Jason thought wryly.

When he didn’t finish, Kennedy said, “You should have told Manning at the start you were too close to this case. That there was too much of a personal connection for you to be able to do your job.”

“ What? ” Jason stared. “That’s not true. Yes, there are some painful memories, maybe more than I expected, but I can do my job just fine.”

Kennedy gave a small laugh. “Okay. I agree. So what’s the problem, Jason?”

Jason .

It gave him a start hearing his first name on Kennedy’s tongue.

Really he did not want to think about Kennedy’s tongue.

And on that topic, why the hell had he made such a big point about not having sex with coworkers? Because of course he wanted to have sex again. Last night had been good. Really good. His job did not leave a lot of time for…well, anything but his job.

Kennedy was watching him, smiling a little, eyes intent.

“I don’t know,” Jason muttered. “I don’t like this case.”

“Who the hell would like this case?” There was a hint of wry amusement in Kennedy’s tone. He said softly, “I know what you need…”

Jason threw him a quick, alarmed look. Kennedy’s grin widened.

“You need a drink. You need a couple of drinks. And here’s Nika to save the day.”

Nika deposited a fresh beer in front of Kennedy and a plate of fish and chips sizzling with oil in front of Jason. Opening a bottle, she tilted the Sam Adams with practiced speed into a frosted mug. “Anything else?”

“This is great,” Jason said.

She grinned at him and departed.

Kennedy said, “They cut McEnroe loose this afternoon. On bail.”

“I heard. Well, I figured that was coming. You don’t think there’s any chance—”

Kennedy shook his head. “No. He’d have been in pieces by now. We’d have had a full confession. He’s not our killer.”

They talked about the case while Jason ate. Finally Jason pushed his plate away. He considered ordering another beer. Was Kennedy staying longer, or was he headed back to the motel? If he was staying, Jason would have another beer. Just to be friendly.

“Feeling better?” asked Kennedy.

Jason made a face. “Yeah. A lot.”

Kennedy nodded approval. “Good. Are you headed out early tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“You’re going to Boston, right? To talk to your art dealer contacts?”

“Oh. Right. Early-ish.” Studying Kennedy’s face, Jason realized he was about to miss his cue. He said hastily, “Not that early.”

“No?” Despite Kennedy’s serious expression, Jason had the distinct impression he was being laughed at. “Okay. Well, I know you’ve got that strict no-fraternization policy, so I don’t want to put you in an awkward p—”

“Shut the hell up,” Jason said, starting to laugh himself.

This time they were both a lot more sober and not quite as frantic, though hearing the seam of his shirt’s left shoulder give way as Kennedy backed him toward the bed, Jason was grateful he’d had his laundry done.

Somewhere in the short distance between the door and the bed he lost not only his shirt, but his shoes and socks. And Kennedy had lost a lot more.

Catching a glimpse of his own face in the mirror over the desk—Kennedy had turned the lights on when they walked in—Jason saw himself sprawled on the bed, hair tumbled and eyes glittering wildly as Kennedy’s hands fastened on his hips and dragged his jeans down to his knees.

“You want to turn the lights off?” Jason asked. Flair for the dramatic or not, he wasn’t much of an exhibitionist.

“No. I like looking at you.” Kennedy hauled Jason’s jeans the rest of the way off and tossed them aside. He leaned over the bed, hands fisting the mattress on either side of Jason’s shoulders. “You’re a very nice-looking guy.”

Jason’s laugh was a little self-conscious. “Pretty boy,” he mocked.

“Yeah,” Kennedy agreed. “But not just a pretty face. You’re sharper than you look.”

Jason spluttered. “And you may actually have a sense of humor.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it.” Kennedy was grinning, though, as he lowered himself on the mattress.

The next few minutes passed in pleasurable physical contact. Kennedy might not be much for mouth-to-mouth, but he was definitely an orally fixated kind of guy. There was not a sensitive part of Jason’s upper body that didn’t receive the moist attentions of Kennedy’s mouth. Nothing like someone nibbling on your ears or licking your nipples to distract you from your worries—not that it didn’t create its own set of uncertainties.

“Yeah, very pretty,” Kennedy murmured, nuzzling the inside curve of Jason’s elbow. And even that…who would have thought the elbows were an erogenous zone?

Kennedy was kind of a one man sensual onslaught. Jason was flushed and out of breath by the time he rolled onto his belly, trying to give himself a few seconds to get control of his voice and face.

Kennedy kissed the nape of his neck, brushing the curls away, and Jason shivered.

“I’ll warm you up,” Kennedy promised, and his lips traveled slowly, deliberately down Jason’s spine, grazing every link of vertebrae right down to the small of Jason’s back where he lingered, nuzzling. Jason swallowed hard. No lie, his skin felt warm everywhere Kennedy’s mouth touched.

“That feels really…”

“Yes, it does.” There was a smile in Kennedy’s voice.

Jason jumped and then closed his eyes, willing himself to relax as something slick and wet on the point of Kennedy’s finger invaded his anus.

“That okay?” Kennedy asked, and to his credit it wasn’t just rhetorical. He was waiting for a response, very delicately stroking, delivering little shocks of pleasure with each press.

“That’s…yeah. Nice.” Jason’s breath caught as Kennedy’s finger changed angle, pressed harder.

“I like doing this to you,” Kennedy murmured. “I’ll be remembering what it feels like to touch you this way every time I see you tomorrow.”

Jason moaned. I’ll be in Boston . But that wasn’t the point. He couldn’t hide in Boston forever, and it was going to be hard for him to see Kennedy and not think the same thing.

He risked another glance at the mirror, and Christ almighty, that was just… wanton . The way he was moving into Kennedy’s touch, his expression of flushed and feverish longing. There was naked and then there was that .

He closed his eyes, but not before he saw Kennedy’s face.

Kennedy looked as intent and absorbed as a predator about to pounce. Not lost in the moment like Jason, or at least not in the same way. All his attention was on Jason, gauging, judging, so he noticed Jason’s moment of distraction, followed Jason’s glance, saw their reflection in the mirror, and smiled.

He moved his fingers— what the hell ?—and Jason arched a little and made a sound he was pretty sure he had never uttered before.

Kennedy obviously spent his off-time doing more than attending George Winston concerts because you did not learn that move by practicing on yourself. Or if you did, Jason wanted to know how.

Kennedy twisted his fingers again and Jason squirmed, feeling that thrill of fierce and pleasurable sensation in his belly.

It was too much. One more of those and he was going to come right now. “Wait,” he panted. “Don’t…”

Kennedy didn’t wait, but his touch instantly changed, soothed, bringing Jason back from the edge, steadying him.

“Whoa. Slow down,” he whispered. “Wait for me.”