Morgan’s face was pale, his broad body motionless. The doctors had taken him off the drug that had been keeping him in his comatose state and they had no clue why he hadn’t regained consciousness yet, chalking it up to one of those unexplained medical mysteries. Still, the longer Morgan remained out of it, the harder it was for Sully to control his worry.
He didn’t reach for Morgan’s hand. Nope. The boss would kick the shit out of him if he woke up and found his operative clutching at his fingers in some wimpy nursemaid act. But Sully did lean closer to rest his forearms on the edge of the thin mattress, giving Morgan a pleading look that the man couldn’t see.
“You need to wake up. Seriously, mate, you’re starting to freak everyone out.”
No response. Not even a twitch.
Something akin to desperation bubbled in his throat. “You can’t keep doing this, lying here like a sack of potatoes. I don’t know what’s happening in your stubborn brain right now, but just open your eyes, man. Your daughter needs you. Your scary-as-fuck wife needs you. And I need . . .” The helplessness spilled over. “I need to get the fuck out of here,” he choked out. “I need you to wake up so I can get out of this goddamn country. So I can get away from . . .”
Liam.
It always came back to Liam.
Sullivan couldn’t be around his old friend anymore. The temptation was too strong. The longer they were around each other, the greater the danger that he would do something stupid.
Like kiss the guy again.
He swallowed a silent groan. He still didn’t know what had come over him earlier. It was like the devil on his shoulder had reared its horny head, taken possession of Sully’s tongue, and shoved it inside Liam’s mouth. There was no good reason for why he’d done it. Liam had just looked so bloody sexy. Literally bloody—his face streaked crimson, blood dripping from his bottom lip. And Sully had wanted to taste him. To be part of whatever feral experience Liam had been going through in that moment.
Two years ago, it had been Sullivan who’d pushed Liam away. Sullivan who’d insisted how stupid it’d be to let lust ruin a friendship that mattered so much to both of them.
Tonight, it had been Liam’s turn to put a stop to it. Only, Sully knew his friend hadn’t done it for the sake of their friendship.
Liam hadn’t wanted that kiss. The bloke had spent the past two years in Boston. He was straight as an arrow again, sticking his cock in a woman, not a man. And that was how it was supposed to be.
“I can’t be around him,” he confessed to Morgan. “I can’t be here anymore.”
Jim didn’t answer. The only sound in the small room was the steady hiss of the man’s breathing tube as it moved air in and out of his lungs.
Sully curled his fingers, bunching the starched sheet tight between them. “I kissed him,” he bit out. “I kissed Liam tonight.”
A squeak came from the doorway.
His head swiveled toward the sound.
Bloody hell.
Cate was standing there. Her eyes, the same dark shade of blue as her father’s, were wide with shock.
Sully rose from his chair with uncharacteristic embarrassment. After one last glance at Jim, he slowly walked over to Cate.
“You didn’t hear that,” he murmured wryly.
“Not a thing,” she murmured back.
He nodded in gratitude and stepped toward the threshold, but Cate stopped him before he could leave. She latched a small, warm hand onto his forearm. “Sully,” she said softly. “Are you all right?”
“Of course, love.” He kept his tone light. “I’m always all right.”
Before she could call bullshit, he ducked out of the room and made his escape.
Except now he was right back to where he’d been two hours ago—trying to find reasons to avoid Liam, who would definitely want to talk about what happened earlier.
Or hell, maybe he wouldn’t. Sully was having trouble reading the guy. They used to be able to tell each other anything, but these days they were acting as if they were total strangers.
Not tonight, though. Tonight, Liam hadn’t felt like a stranger. When their mouths had collided in that mind-melting kiss, the only thought running through Sullivan’s mind had been home.
He’d felt like he’d come home.
His legs were unusually wobbly as he trudged toward the barracks. The door to their room was closed and no light spilled from underneath it. Maybe he’d gotten lucky and Liam was asleep. God knew he ought to catch some shut-eye himself. They’d just executed three back-to-back missions in the span of three days. Eventually even the best soldiers needed to rest and Sully’s aching body and grainy eyes warned him that he was pushing himself too hard.
Gulping, he turned the knob and entered the dark room.
Shit.
He didn’t need to see the shadowy figure sitting up in bed to know that Liam was awake. He’d always been able to sense Liam’s energy. Crazy, but true. Every part of him was highly attuned to Liam Macgregor, which was probably why they worked so well together. Why Kane and Trevor and Morgan always paired them up in the field.
As his vision adjusted to the darkness, he made out the accusatory gaze being aimed at him.
“You done avoiding me?” Liam asked politely.
He went over to his bed and sat down. “I wasn’t avoiding you.”
“Bullshit.”
Sully stifled a curse. “Okay, fine. I was avoiding you. Is that what you want to hear?”
“No. I want to hear what the fuck you were thinking earlier.”
He dragged one hand through his hair. It was shorter these days, so he couldn’t get a good grip. Which sucked, because right now he felt like tearing it out by the roots.
“I wasn’t thinking,” he mumbled.
“Really? That’s your answer?” A mocking note colored Liam’s voice.
“What other fucking answer do you want, Boston?” The powerless sensation he’d been fighting all day returned in full force. “That’s my MO, right? I don’t think before I act. Never have, probably never will.”
“So there’s no explanation for why you decided to stick your tongue down my throat other than you weren’t thinking?”
Sully’s jaw stiffened. He didn’t like Liam’s tone or the hostility poisoning the air. He and Liam never fought, or at least they hadn’t in the past.
“I felt like it, all right? I don’t know what else to say. I felt like it and I acted on it and I’m sorry for that.” As exhaustion washed over him, Sullivan bent over to unlace his boots. He kicked the first one off, speaking without looking at Liam. “I get it. You didn’t want it. My bad. I won’t do it again.” He shucked the other shoe. “So go to bed and close your eyes and if you’re still feeling freaked out, go ahead and jerk off. Think about pussy or whatever it is that gets you off. I need to sleep.”
He whipped off his shirt. When his head popped free, he was startled to find Liam looming over him. He hadn’t even heard the other man move, which was a testament to Liam’s training.
“Are you fuckin’ kidding me? You think I pushed you away because I was freaked out? We’re long past that, Aussie. Kissing a man doesn’t scare me.”
Shock filtered through him. He didn’t know what to say to that, but fortunately Liam didn’t give him a chance.
“I wasn’t freaked out. I was pissed.”
“Pissed?” Sully echoed hoarsely.
“Yeah, pissed.”
“At what?”
“At you, you goddamn asshole! The last time we were in this position, you all but threw me to the curb. You told me you didn’t want to get involved. You told me if we fucked it would be like lighting a match to our friendship and setting it on fire. Remember that, Sully?”
He could see his friend’s broad frame shaking with anger. Feel the heat of those blue eyes as they blaz
ed at him.
“So what the fuck changed?” Liam snapped. “Suddenly it’s okay for us to go there? Suddenly it won’t ruin our friendship?”
“What friendship?” he roared back.
Liam jerked as if he’d been struck, but Sully didn’t give a shit, because he was angry now too. He rapidly shot to his feet, advancing on Liam until their faces were inches apart.
He didn’t miss the way the man’s gaze darted down to his bare chest, resting briefly on the horseshoe-shaped scar on Sully’s biceps. Liam had sewn those stitches himself. In Dublin, after shrapnel from a car bomb had torn off a chunk of Sully’s flesh. The scar was just a reminder of what happened later that night—Liam sliding into bed with him . . . his big hand circling Sully’s cock . . . jerking him off to one of the most intense orgasms of his life.
He knew Liam was thinking about it too, because a spark of heat lit his eyes.
It triggered an answering spark in Sully’s groin, which he forced himself to ignore. “We don’t have a friendship,” he said flatly. “We haven’t spoken in a year, haven’t seen each other in two. So I repeat—what friendship, Boston?”
They were both breathing heavily. Liam cleared his throat, but his voice was still hoarse when he said, “You’re right.”
Sully blinked.
“We have no friendship. We have nothing.” Liam shook his head. “So I guess that means there’s nothing stopping us from doing this.”
Liam erased the rest of the distance between them and slammed their mouths together.
The kiss was hot, primal. No tenderness or finesse. Just the hungry joining of their mouths, the reckless battle of their tongues. Sully shuddered when Liam palmed his chest—not to shove, but to caress. Long fingers glided over hard ridges of muscle, calloused fingertips skimming Sully’s nipples before sliding down to his waist. Strong hands dug into his flesh hard enough to bring a sting of pain.
Jesus. Sully had never been manhandled like this before and he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed it. Craved it, especially from Liam.
This man was a bloody force to be reckoned with when he allowed himself to let go. Liam’s Catholic upbringing had required him to tamp down his base urges for most of his life. Sully had helped him unleash them when he’d invited Liam to spend the summer on his yacht. He’d lured the man into raunchy sexual experiences, and he couldn’t deny that witnessing Liam give in to the wild streak he’d always kept tightly reined had turned Sully on something fierce.
And tonight . . . he’d loved the sight of Liam’s face covered in blood, loved seeing the man surrender to the joy that violence brought him.
But this? His friend’s greedy mouth pressed against his . . . the way Liam sucked on his tongue and then bit it . . . It was almost too much.
When Liam’s hand shifted and his fingers grazed the waistband of Sully’s cargo pants, it triggered a bout of panic. “What the hell are you doing?” Sully ground out.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
He swallowed rapidly, but it didn’t help to erase the flood of moisture that pooled in his mouth, making it impossible to speak.
“We’re both gonna go our separate ways the moment we take out Rivera and make sure Morgan is safe. Chances are, we’re never gonna lay eyes on each other again. So all those fears you had about ruining our friendship? Forget them, Sully. There’s nothing to fuckin’ ruin.”
Pain arrowed into his heart. No, that couldn’t be true. That couldn’t—he sucked in a breath when Liam undid the button of his pants.
“Boston . . .” Those two syllables came out on a wheeze.
“Shut up.”
Sully’s brain damn near imploded when he felt a strong grip around his cock. Liam gave him a slow, measured stroke, twisting the head before gliding back down to the base. There was no tentativeness in the touch. It was confident, deliberate.
Suspicion pricked Sullivan’s chest, but he didn’t get a chance to dwell on the odd sensation because Liam was pushing him backward, tugging him down until Sully’s ass hit the mattress. A hot, eager mouth descended on him, sucking him so deep that he fell back on his elbows, weak with shock and desire.
Jesus motherfucking Christ. So good. So bloody good.
Liam sucked him down to the base with skill that astonished him. Sully knew he was well endowed. Most women—and men—couldn’t handle all of him, but Liam seemed to have no trouble. Which only triggered another jolt of wariness.
“You’ve done this before,” Sully choked out.
The other man lifted his head and arched one dark eyebrow. “So what if I have?” Then he licked a hot circle around the head of Sully’s dick and drew him deep again.
As jealousy speared into him, a million questions burned at Sullivan’s tongue. When? Who? How many times? But he wasn’t able to voice any of them because Liam was doing the most incredible things to his body.
His eyes rolled to the top of his head as his friend fisted his shaft and gave it a slow pump. Heat tingled in the base of his spine. It had been so bloody long since he’d had someone’s mouth on him. Someone’s tongue tracing the underside of his shaft, licking its way down to his balls. And it was made all the hotter because it was Liam’s mouth. Liam’s tongue.
It broke his fucking heart to think that the only reason Liam was doing this was because he thought there was nothing left between them. That their bond had been severed. But that didn’t stop Sully from cupping the back of Liam’s head and urging the man to take him deeper.
The unspoken command didn’t get him the desired result. Liam simply released him, letting his lips hover over the tip. “You want me to suck this?” he taunted. “You want me to suck it hard and fast until you’re coming down my throat?”
Lust arrowed a path straight to Sully’s balls. Who the fuck was this man? Where was Liam Macgregor?
“Yes,” he said weakly. “Yes, that’s what I want.”
“Beg for it.” Liam’s voice was silky, low.
He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. This was his doing. The Liam he’d met in New York all those years ago wouldn’t have dreamed of saying shit like this. Sully was the one who’d unleashed the man’s filthy side, and now he was paying the price for it, gasping and trembling as Liam jacked him in a fast stroke punctuated by a tight squeeze, hard enough to bring black dots to his vision.
“Beg,” Liam growled.
He was helpless. Mindless. “Suck me.” His voice rang with anguish, his throat tight with desire. “Please, Boston, suck me off.”
With a dark chuckle, Liam lowered his head again. One hand maintained its grip around the shaft, while the other slid lower, wicked fingers brushing over a sensitive spot that had Sully’s hips arching upward. Then Liam swallowed him up again and his entire world was reduced to more and oh fuck and don’t stop.
He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything but pump his hips and thrust into Liam’s hungry mouth. The impossibly tight suction was almost too much to bear. And that finger, Jesus Christ, that finger . . .
The orgasm sizzled up Sully’s spine, pulsing through his body in powerful waves that had him groaning with abandon. He didn’t give a fuck if the entire base heard him. It felt too damn good.
Too. Damn. Good.
Liam stayed with him until the end, eventually slowing his strokes and easing the pressure of his tongue. Teasing, lazy licks guided Sullivan back to earth, and when Liam raised his head and swiped his tongue over his wet lips, another shudder overtook Sully’s body. Holy fuck. That was the hottest thing he’d ever seen in his life.
Neither of them spoke for a second.
“That was . . .” He trailed off. There were no words to describe how amazing he felt right now.
The other man looked smug. Hell, he had every right to look like that. He’d just sucked Sullivan’s brains right out of his cock, so deftly a
nd assertively that he deserved a bloody medal.
Sully’s shoulders tightened abruptly. Thinking about Liam’s skilled blow-job technique sent another hot streak of jealousy through him. “You said you’ve done this before,” he muttered. “With who?”
Liam’s expression grew veiled. “No one you know.”
The answer didn’t appease him. The jealousy was in his throat now, scorching his esophagus. “Who?” he pressed.
“Doesn’t matter.” Liam made a disparaging noise under his breath. “What? You’re pissed? Jealous? You’re the one who told me you didn’t want to be my sexual guinea pig, remember? You said if I wanted to experiment with dudes, I should find someone else to do it with. So I did.”
With a harsh laugh, the dark-haired man got to his feet and headed for the door.
As it clicked shut behind him, Sully lay there on his back, his cock still out and semi-hard, his heart ravaged by the thought of Liam with anyone else.
Chapter 22
“I can feel you judging me,” Cate said without turning to look at Ash. She kept her eye glued to the viewfinder of her camera, as she’d been doing for the last hour.
Against Ash’s numerous protests, Noelle had assigned him and Cate to city surveillance this morning. He clearly wasn’t happy about it but Cate didn’t give a shit. She was finally being given the opportunity to go out in the field and she wasn’t about to let Ash’s sulking spoil that for her.
“I haven’t said a word,” he grumbled.
“You don’t have to. The air is full of your disapproval.”
Rather than deny it, he fell silent.
Good. She hoped he continued to keep his mouth shut because in such close quarters it would be kind of hard to pull her arm back far enough to land a good punch.
For the past hour, the two of them had been kneeling in a tiny roof alcove of a three-story building overlooking the city center, searching for signs of Rivera from the rooftop. Ironically, the unrest in Guatana was making it easier to do their jobs because most of the streets were empty. The once bustling capital showed little signs of commerce. Most of the businesses were closed, except for government and military offices, and since few people had money, there was no foot traffic in the market.