“I told you that you’d turned me into a masochist. I wanted you to see my car, Seamus. And I came as soon as I got your message.” Bellamy walked boldly around the bar to stand beside him, stripping that barrier away. He put his hand next to Seamus’s on the bar—he was so close—and looked into his eyes. “I fought it too. Not as long as you have, but I tried. You are a lot of damn work, Seamus, and I think you know that. But I would rather be here to listen to you lecture me than give up and live with the regret.”
Seamus bit out a curse. He couldn’t let Bellamy’s words affect him. Not yet.
“How did you find out about Presley? Wait, don’t tell me. It was the people you pay the obscene amounts of money to.”
“Yes.” He wasn’t apologizing. “And I admit I’ve watched you. I’ve seen you with your children and laughing with your family. I wasn’t trying to make you nervous, Seamus. I was looking for the dent in your armor. The crack in your story. I didn’t want you to be that good. I wanted you to have a sordid secret, but instead you were quietly taking care of your children’s mother, despite what she tried to do. I wanted you to be an addict I could look down on, but your only addictions are your family and this bar. And British television, which you watch the way other people watch porn.”
How could he know that?
“I was waiting to see you with someone else. A woman or a man, it didn’t matter. I wanted to punish myself enough that I could move on. But that never happened. You weren’t exaggerating when you told me your family was your life. Everyone says that, Seamus. No one ever means it.”
“I’m not perfect. Not even close.” Don’t let down your guard. Remember what you wanted to say.
“I’m aware of that too, but I’ve been everywhere, Finn. And I’ve known a lot of men. There aren’t any like you. And there are none I want as badly.”
Seamus looked down, realizing he’d taken Bellamy’s hands, his thumbs caressing the racing pulse at his wrists. What was he doing? He needed to let Bellamy know that the payment to Parkridge was unacceptable. That skulking around his family was unacceptable. “You only wanted Paris, not complications. My life is full of complications.”
Bellamy moved closer, so close Seamus could feel his arousal against his hip. “I never wanted them before, but that doesn’t mean I can’t handle them. I might surprise you.”
His heart was trying to lodge itself in his throat. “I wasn’t expecting you to want to. Not after what I said. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“Then you don’t know me yet. Get to know me, Seamus.”
When strong hands dropped to the top button of his jeans, Seamus gripped his wrists and shook his head. “No.”
“Please.”
Fuck. How many times had Bellamy ever said please?
Seamus slid his hands all the way up Bellamy’s arms into his thick, silky hair and yanked his head back roughly. “My bar. My rules.”
Bellamy’s lips parted and his dark skin flushed. “As long as the rules include touching me, I’m good with that.”
A wave of crushing need surged over him when he finally pressed his lips against Bellamy’s. It wasn’t gentle. It was angry and desperate. Hungry. Seamus felt a tremor run through his body when Bellamy pressed against him, wrapping his arms around him as if he were afraid he’d pull away. Seamus could have told him he wasn’t strong enough to try.
Their tongues tangled and they both groaned when Seamus pressed Bellamy back against the bar and started grinding against him. It’s been so long. I need to touch you. Need to feel you.
He tore off the top button of Bellamy’s jeans in his haste, heard the ping of the metal bouncing off the floor as he pushed both their jeans down to their thighs.
“Fuck, Seamus,” Bellamy moaned, digging his fingers into his ass and pulling him closer. Their erections were sliding hot and heavy against each other, and the delicious friction made Seamus wild. He reached for one of Bellamy’s hands and took two fingers in his mouth, sucking hard. He kept his gaze on needy green eyes as he forced those fingers down and back, between the cheeks of his ass.
“I don’t have any—”
“Massage me again,” he whispered hotly, his hips jerking when Bellamy instantly obeyed. “Yes.”
He licked his own fingers and, with one arm pulling Bellamy as close as he could, let his wet fingers press against the tight ring of muscles he’d never had a chance to explore.
Bellamy’s reaction was explosive. “Fuck!” He started speaking in what he’d once admitted to Seamus was a mixture of Turkish and French. Dirty, nonsensical demands and prayers that happened whenever he was too turned on to control it.