“It wasn’t just Mark. It was also partly about my job. I worked in Missing Persons there, and it was crushing my soul. Mark boxed but he was also an accountant. He was offered a great job here and asked me to come with him. I was ready for new scenery. Start fresh and clear my head.” Hollis shrugged.
“But you stayed after you two broke up?”
“I like it here. I know it’s not the mecca for the gay lifestyle but it’s a hell of a lot friendlier than where I lived in the south. I like the city, too. Like the sense of, I don’t know, place, people feel here. They are fiercely protective of locals, yet they argue over things like chili.” He shrugged. “I fit better here. Even with the accent.”
“I like your accent.” It was sexy and Ian couldn’t wait to hear his drawled-out words whispering over his skin in the dark. He shivered, needing to put a halt to those thoughts quickly. Instead, something Hollis said gave him pause. “Wait. Your ex was a boxing accountant?” He couldn’t help it. He cracked up, laughing so hard, he bent over and got a wet lick to the face from Daisy. He rubbed her behind the ears and stood, unable to stop the chortles from escaping his mouth.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Get it all out of your system. The boxing accountant. It was actually a pretty solid brand. He really played it up—had a pocket protector in his robe and everything. Mark wasn’t a bad guy. He had a great sense of humor.” Hollis snorted, eyes narrowing on Ian’s face. He used his sleeve to wipe dog drool off Ian’s cheek. “I prefer one-on-one relationships, and he wasn’t capable of them. I don’t share well.”
“Neither do I,” Ian said softly. He grabbed Hollis’s coat in his fists and used it to pull himself up on his toes. “Just so you know. If we decide to have a relationship, I won’t cheat on you.”
“What do you mean if?” Hollis murmured, his breath hot as it wafted over Ian’s lips.
Ian wanted to tell him then about why it might not be possible—that he’d tried having sex with big guys like Hollis and froze, that he still carried baggage from his past that did something to him in his sleep—but fear kept his mouth shut. Instead, he put it on Hollis’s. One kiss, then two and three. He tilted his head, loving the way their lips fit together. Hollis ran his tongue along the seam of Ian’s lips and he opened for him. As their tongues slid together, Hollis reached down and clutched Ian’s ass, pulling him tight to his body. All Ian’s earlier frustration fled and was replaced by the sexual kind. A whimper of need escaped his throat. He did love Hollis’s size, loved his broad shoulders and his big hands, and he wanted to have sex with the man so much, he just knew it wouldn’t be a problem this time.
Hollis lifted one hand to hold Ian’s head close as the kiss grew hotter and deeper. He thrust his tongue into Ian’s mouth over and over, imitating the slight rocking of his hips into Ian’s.
Flustered beyond belief, he let go of Hollis’s coat which made Ian fall back onto his heels. Hollis followed him down, cupping the sides of Ian’s neck gently as he kissed him. He probably worried about the bruises that were even more colorful today, but his big hands did nothing but make Ian feel safe. And turn him the fuck on. Ian slid his own under Hollis’s jacket and then under the sweater he wore underneath. His fingers met searing hot skin.
Hollis jerked.
Chuckling against his mouth, Ian pulled back. “Sorry. Cold hands, huh?”
“I don’t care. Put ’em back. They’ll warm up fast.” Hollis came back in and pressed a hard, quick kiss to his lips. “I want your hands on me. And I could kiss you forever.”
Ian hoped he would.
Hollis licked the seam of his lips and Ian opened for him again, loving the hot, wet slide of his tongue inside his mouth. The cop was intoxicating—he took over Ian’s senses like the finest whiskey and Ian wanted to stay drunk on him. That same sense of safety mixed with the pure fire he felt in his touch made his blood feel like it was pumping with more life than ever before.
Hollis must have felt it because he pulled back, his lips open as he panted, his gaze hooded…and probing.
Ian realized then that he was going to have to get used to the cop reassuring himself that Ian was fine. He could hope that one day, this part would pass—but he didn’t want the caring, nurturing side of the man to go away. Ever. He liked the dichotomy of this gentle, yet gruff and smart-mouthed man he hoped would be a lover. He wanted to get as close as possible to him, cook for him. It was the one thing Ian knew he did well and he loved nothing more than sharing his love of food. He’d been spoiling his friends for years and loved every moment of it.