T. A. Chase

Macario devoured the man with his gaze, trying not to drool at the lust-inducing sight Tanner made. The agent wore faded jeans worn thin in spots and fit him like a glove. A long sleeved dark blue Henley graced Tanner’s upper half, showing off a well-muscled chest and a flat stomach.

“No one,” Macario muttered, keeping up his façade.

Tanner walked up to him and cradled his face with his hands. Shock held Macario still. No one touched him without his permission. Yet he had no inclination to yell at Tanner or back away from him.

“I promise to keep your secret, Macario, because God knows, I have my own. It might make you feel better to tell someone about her.” Tanner glanced down at the glass in Marcario’s hand. “Instead of drinking your problems into oblivion.”

If he was the kind of man who didn’t take responsibility for his actions, he’d blame what he did next on the alcohol. Macario set his glass down and rested his hands on Tanner’s hips. He leaned forward and brought their lips together.

Tanner gasped and Macario took advantage of it to sweep his tongue inside Tanner’s mouth, tasting the flavors. Spicy like Tanner had Tex-Mex for dinner and a beer. There was a unique flavor that had to be all Tanner. They moaned and stepped closer until their bodies pressed tightly together, chest to chest, knee to knee, and groin to groin.

In the back of his alcohol-addled mind, Macario knew what they were doing wasn’t smart, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He tugged on the hem of Tanner’s shirt, lifting it so he could run his hands over Tanner’s warm smooth skin. Tonight, he wanted to fuck and re-enforce the fact that he still lived. It was the emotion that often swept over him when catching a murder case. If it had been a different victim, he probably would have gone out to one of the bars and picked a guy up. Not the safest thing to do, but he didn’t care. He just wanted a body under him and around him.

Tanner eased back, breaking the kiss. “Where’s your bedroom?”

Macario grabbed the man’s hand and dragged him down the hallway. He didn’t speak, not wanting to break the mood. No coming to their senses until after they fucked. They could regret it in the aftermath.

You’re such a playboy. Marissa’s voice danced through his head and Macario skidded to a halt without warning. Tanner slammed into his back with a grunt.

“What’s wrong?” Tanner tightened his grip on Macario’s hand.

“We can’t do this.” Macario turned to look at him. “I’m sorry.”

Tanner laughed softly. “It might give me blue balls, but I think I can deal with it. You’re trying to reaffirm that you’re alive. Happens to those of us around death all the time. Are you the type to go to the bars and pick up a one-night stand?”

Macario dipped his head in embarrassment. More often than not, he’d done it, but not lately. Maybe his age was catching up to him, or after re-connecting with Marissa, he found he wanted more than quick anonymous sex.

He closed his eyes against the tears. Marissa, so beautiful and alive the last time he saw her. Teasing him about his revolving bedroom door. No more laughter. No more late night phone calls to talk about her day. Macario bit his lip to keep from sobbing. The alcohol hadn’t been a good idea. His control was slipping and he didn’t want Tanner to see him weak and emotional.

“Why didn’t you do that tonight?” Tanner led him back down the hall to the living room, and pushed him down onto the couch.

He laid his head back and stared up at the ceiling. “Because I couldn’t face all those people and the fact that they’re still fucking alive, and those five women are dead.”