to come inside. We need to talk about what happened tonight. And I’ll fill you in on what I found out about Valdez today.”
I nod, still fighting a pervasive sense of numbness. I’m so cold. I wonder if I’m in a little bit in shock.
We get out of his car and walk up the front steps to my door. My hands are shaking so badly that Tyler takes my keys from me and unlocks the door, pushing it wide and motioning for me to walk inside.
Once I’m in, I head right into the parlor, straight for the bar. I grab a glass and a bottle of whiskey and pour myself a shot. I knock it back, coughing as the liquor burns my throat. “Do you want one?” I ask him, without meeting his gaze.
“No.”
“Right. You’re working.” I pour myself a second shot and toss it back, nearly choking this time. My hand shakes as I slam the empty glass on the bar. “Fuck!”
“It’s all right,” Tyler says. “Your adrenalin is on overload. It’ll pass.”
I finally bring myself to face Tyler, fully aware that I’ve been avoiding looking at him all evening. “So, it’s over? It was Valdez all along?”
He nods. “He and Brad Turner were lovers until Brad broke it off a couple months ago. When Brad moved on, Valdez snapped, probably out of jealousy. I executed a search warrant today at Valdez’s apartment and found plenty of incriminating physical evidence. The only piece missing was the garrotte, which I found in Valdez’s jacket pocket tonight. DNA testing will be done and compared to the evidence collected from the murder scenes, but I have no doubt it’s a match. Valdez is the killer.”
“Poor Eric. He died because he hooked up with Turner.” I reach once more for the whiskey bottle, but Tyler captures my hand.
“You’ve had enough, Ian,” he says, his voice low as he gently squeezes my hand.
I yank my hand out of his grasp and pour myself a third shot. “So, I guess Miguel’s out of a job, right?”
Tyler frowns as he watches me swallow a mouthful of liquor. “Looks that way.”
When I grab the bottle again, Tyler takes it from me and sets it out of reach. “I know you’re upset,” he says, “and you have every right to be, but self-medicating with liquor won’t help.”
I turn to face him, my chest on fire, and take a step closer so that we’re standing just inches apart. My eyes lock onto his, and I just want to lose myself in those beautiful blue-green depths. “Do you know what will fucking help?”
His expression grows wary. “What?”
I reach for his belt buckle and unfasten it roughly. “A good fuck.”
“Ian.”
There’s a sharp edge to Tyler’s warning, but I don’t give a fuck right now. My blood is burning, my heart racing, and I feel like I’m about to come undone. I need something to ground me. I need—him. I drop to my knees on the plush rug and hastily unfasten his black trousers. He’s already hard, so hard I have to use care as I lower his zipper past his thick erection. I tug his slacks down to his knees.
“Ian, for Christ’s sake!” He grabs my arms and tries to haul me to my feet, but I resist.
I want him.
I fucking want him in my mouth. I stare at the impressive outline of his cock beneath his gray cotton boxer-briefs. He’s thick and long, so long my belly clenches in anticipation. I know I shouldn’t push him like this, but he’s a big boy. If he wants to tell me to fuck off and walk out the front door, he’s perfectly capable of doing so.
I press my open mouth against the ridge of his erection and blow on his hot flesh, right through the soft fabric. And then I trace the outline of his length with my tongue, from root to tip.
“Fuck!” he cries, his voice ragged. He reaches down and grips my head firmly, his fingers digging into me.
I fully expect him to pull away from me, to shove me or even slap me, but he doesn’t do any of those things. Instead, his fingers tighten on my skull.
I lift my gaze to his, shocked at the heat and fire I see in his. My God, he’s gorgeous. My mind is spinning, and my gut clenches tightly with desire. “God, I want you so badly.” My voice is so hoarse, I’m not even sure he understood me.
When he doesn’t push