Hitman vs Hitman - L.A. Witt Page 0,69

nudging Ricardo back a step. “This shirt is Tom Ford.”

“So I can manhandle you all I want, but don’t mess up your clothes?”

“Exactly. Especially the manhandling part.”

Oh, hell yeah.

Ricardo pulled August into a kiss again, and they made it a few steps, but they didn’t get to the bedroom. Instead, Ricardo bumped into the couch, then stumbled back onto it, and August apparently didn’t mind. He pushed him back against the cushions and straddled him, and suddenly Ricardo had a talented, insistent tongue demanding access to his mouth in the same instant he had two perfect handfuls of firm, round ass. Maybe this guy could be insufferable at times, but Ricardo couldn’t deny that he had a hot body and was a hell of a kisser. And if kissing and groping shut him up? Well, that was a hell of a bonus.

August raked his hands through Ricardo’s hair. Nails. Oh God, he used his nails. And he pulled. It was like he’d hacked into some secret document detailing all the subtle ways to turn Ricardo on.

Now he just needed to be naked. Like…now.

Ricardo fumbled with the top button on August’s shirt. Then the second. His fingers didn’t quite want to cooperate—not while his mouth was busy getting schooled by August’s.

“This shirt is fucking expensive,” August said against his lips. “You tear it, I swear to Christ I will—”

Ricardo had never before taken so much delight in yanking open a shirt and sending the buttons flying. And nothing had ever been more deeply satisfying than the way August gasped and froze, his expression a mix of horror, offense, and…oh, yeah, he was definitely turned on by it.

For a few seconds, they stared at each other in stunned silence, Ricardo still clutching the sides of August’s open shirt as one of the buttons did a click-rattle-rattle-rattle across the kitchen floor before coming to a stop somewhere.

“I…” August stammered. “I can’t believe…”

“Yeah?” Ricardo grinned, tugging August’s shirt free from his trousers. “What are you gonna do?”

“You son of a bitch,” August growled, and claimed a deep, bruising kiss. Ricardo pulled at the shirt again, snapping off the last two buttons, and August made a bitchy sound, but it was muffled by the kiss neither of them had broken. Between them, they pushed the shirt off August’s shoulders, and it finally landed on the floor. Something clattered—a cufflink, Ricardo thought—but neither of them stopped to find out.

The undershirt followed, and now…fuck. He had his hands all over smooth, hot skin and lean, powerful muscle. His fingertips trailed over the odd scar and a raised edge that might have been either a scar or a tattoo. When he dragged his nails over skin, August grunted softly and arched, pressing into Ricardo’s nails like he was looking for more of that burn. He seemed to like a little pain. He liked it rough, too. Restrain him, choke him, manhandle him—it all seemed to turn him on. As if Ricardo needed any more reason to want to get this man naked and lubed up.

“You’ve been fucked over a counter before,” he mumbled between kisses. “That mean you bottom?”

“I do anything,” came the breathy response. “And for the record, it’s been way too long since I’ve been dicked down by someone who meant it.”

“Yeah?” Ricardo nipped August’s lower lip. “That a challenge?”

“Don’t know. You up for the job?”

Ricardo shut him up with another kiss. They made out a moment longer, and then August abruptly stood, giving Ricardo a second to rake his eyes over that half-dressed body that looked as sexy as it felt.

Then August beckoned. “Bedroom. Now.”

They left the living room for the bedroom, and Ricardo had just enough time to pull off his shirt before August dragged him down onto the bed he’d almost tricked him into sharing the first night. Now they were back to kissing and groping, this time skin to skin, and no matter how infuriating August could be, Ricardo had to admit that the guy was ridiculously hot in bed. His hands roamed Ricardo’s skin, and that kiss… Fuck, Ricardo could not get enough of the way August kissed.

“So if you’re all turned on that I’m a bottom,” August panted between kisses. “That mean you like to top?”

“Uh-huh.” Ricardo bent to kiss August’s neck. “Especially when a bottom likes it rough and hard.”

The whimper that escaped August’s lips almost made Ricardo come in his pants. August dug his nails into Ricardo’s back and murmured, “You better not be all talk.”

“Never.” Ricardo bit