Cut & Run (Cut & Run #1)(71)
Author: Abigail Roux

There was nothing to say to that. Zane had been there, many a time.

He knew he shouldn’t have pushed. He sighed, nodded, and headed out to the front room.

Ty just rolled his eyes and sat to pull on his boots. “You know if I was really pissed I would have just hit you, right? Or tried to, anyway,” he called wryly, even though he was slightly pissed about it, and would remain so. It had been a stupid f**king thing to do.

“That’s actually what I expected,” Zane called back as he opened the forgotten bag of breakfast and pulled out yogurt and a couple bagels. Ty would have a conniption when he saw it. Zane grinned.

“Want me to hit you, then? So you won’t be disappointed?” Ty offered hopefully as he stood slowly and made his way into the other room.

Zane didn’t look up from the table. “If it’ll make you feel better,” he said as he mixed sugar into his coffee. He was hyper-aware of where Ty was, though.

“Maybe when my head doesn’t hurt,” Ty shrugged negligently as he peered down at the breakfast. “What the shit is this?”

Zane snickered and added cream to his coffee.

“You f**king pansy,” Ty muttered under his breath.

Zane sniggered a little more. “They’ve got hot food down in the lobby, but since we’re going to lunch we don’t need to eat this crap.”

Ty picked through the slim offerings, grumbling wordlessly. “Let’s get the f**k out of here,” he finally muttered as he grabbed his battered leather jacket. He stopped and sighed as he examined it. “Need to get a new jacket, I guess,” he said almost to himself, his voice wistful and slightly sad.

Stepping close and rubbing a finger along the sleeve, Zane said softly,

“Now it’s got character.”

“It had character before,” Ty muttered with a frown as he practically cradled the jacket in his arms. “Now it’s got blood on it. And it smells like burnt cow.”

“Are you worried about the jacket or worried about yourself?” Zane asked, still sliding his fingers along the leather.

“I smell like burnt cow?” Ty asked innocently in return. Zane shook his head, wryly expectant. “What?” Ty asked as he held the jacket to his chest defensively.

Zane couldn’t believe that of all things, he was utterly charmed by this side of Ty. He took Ty’s chin between his fingers, leaned closer, and kissed him firmly.

Ty stiffened in surprise, then relaxed slightly and returned the unexpected kiss. It wasn’t soft or sweet, but it wasn’t out-of-control hot, either. He mumbled softly against Zane’s lips, confused by the actions but enjoying them anyway. “That’s not nice to do to a man with a concussion,” he admonished in a low voice when their mouths parted.

“Why not?” Zane asked, lips quirked, dropping his hands and waiting.

“Because I’m easily confused,” Ty answered without thought to the many meanings the words could have.

“I rather doubt that,” Zane murmured. They were standing chest to chest, not touching but for the jacket between them.

Ty poked him gently in the stomach, trying to put some distance between them again to dispel the uncomfortable warmth.

“Is that the best you can do? You must be more hurt than I thought,”

Zane needled.

“I am,” Ty responded softly, taking a step back and licking his lips nervously.

Zane slowly nodded. All right, that’s how it was going to be. He picked the keys up off the table. “Let’s go, then,” he said as he pocketed the key cards.

“Are you … are you feeling this, too?” Ty asked against his better instincts.

There was a hitch in Zane’s movement that gave away his reaction to Ty’s words, and his hand stayed jammed into his pocket as he shifted his weight and then his eyes returned to Ty. Zane searched the other man for some clue, some sign, as his mild apprehension was overwhelmed by want.

Want for something of Ty he couldn’t define. Zane didn’t say yes … but he didn’t say no.

“We need to go one way or the other with this,” Ty went on earnestly with a little wave of his hand.

The tone of Ty’s voice made Zane smile. “One way or the other, huh?”

“You’re big on rules, right? We need rules,” Ty responded with a sincere frown. “I prefer rules that still allow f**king.”

Zane’s eyes widened. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Rules that still allow f**king,” he repeated, voice a bit shaky as he was really trying hard not to grab Ty, throw him on the table, and suck him off until he screamed. “What sort of rules? What do you want?”

“No more surprise kisses,” Ty demanded with a wag of his finger.

“Okay,” Zane agreed, a bit mystified.

Ty cleared his throat and pursed his lips as if he had thought there would be an argument. The impulsive kisses, while very enjoyable, were blurring the lines for him. He didn’t like blurry lines unless he was trying to cross them.

“That’s all I can think of,” he finished with a frown and a slight blush.

“You don’t look too sure about that,” Zane pointed out helpfully.

“I reserve the right to add rules,” Ty responded with a deeper flush as he crossed his arms protectively over his jacket.

“What about me?” Zane asked, fascinated by Ty’s mind at work despite the shuffling it had suffered. The man was obviously struggling with something he didn’t want to admit. Zane thought, perhaps, Ty wanted him and didn’t want to say so. Perhaps.

“What about you?” Ty asked uncomfortably.

“Do I get to make rules?” Zane asked, moving slightly closer.

Something about Ty had changed. He seemed more approachable, more moldable. Definitely more f**kable. Like the hit on the head had knocked some of the abrasive stubbornness out of him.

“Maybe,” Ty allowed warily.

Another step forward, so they were practically chest to chest again.

“Only maybe?” Zane rumbled.

Ty breathed out heavily through his nose and tilted his head to the side restlessly.

Zane tilted his head to match him. “How about we take turns making rules?” he purred, putting both hands on the leather jacket and pulling it out from between them. This he could do. Sex he could do. Sex with Ty he could definitely do.

Ty just licked his lips and watched the jacket as if it were a lifeline slipping away. Zane laid it aside on the table, reached up, and turned Ty’s chin toward him. Hell, sometimes just looking at him made Zane hard, and all good sense went flying out the eighth-story window. What being this close was doing to him …Ty was a goddamn narcotic.