North and Shaw Out of Office - Gregory Ashe Page 0,36

the nylon. Until North raised his hips, shifted his weight, and the sofa springs boinged.

Then Shaw slid his hand up under the nylon, and North whispered, “Fuck.” His hand wrapped around Shaw’s wrist, not stopping him, but guiding him, and then he whispered again, “Fuck.”

“I don’t want to bother you,” Shaw said.

North’s rough breathing was the only answer. Shaw turned onto his knees, facing North now. Watching North, Shaw grinned as the blond man tried to turn a page, tried to pretend to read as Shaw’s hand moved up and down.

“I know you’re reading.” Shaw let his hand slow. Linger. His index finger only now, rubbing the most sensitive spot.

“Jesus Christ.” North had white-knuckled grip on the sofa now. His other hand clutched the book so tightly that pages were pulling free from the glue on the spine.

“I don’t want to interrupt,” Shaw said.

North tossed the book and rolled onto his side, gathering a handful of Shaw’s tee and yanking him forward, kissing him.

“You are so much fucking trouble sometimes,” North growled as he dragged off Shaw’s clothing.

2

IT HAD BEEN a long day, and North’s lower back was aching from the shit spot he’d chosen for surveillance. He’d spent most of the day watching a sporting equipment executive, and the only decent view of the man’s office had been in the building opposite, looking out of a window at an angle that had twisted North’s back. He lay on the sofa in his living room now, a beer sweating on the coffee table, listening to the news on TV.

The front door opened, and Shaw’s familiar tread moved through the duplex. With him came the smell of garlic, tomatoes, and meat.

“I brought the pizza,” Shaw said.

“Thank God.”

“Oh,” Shaw said, poking his head into the living room. “You’re in here. Hey, are you ok?”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Just a little sore.”

Shaw nodded. “From mixing cement all day.”

“Here we go.”

“And then carrying it up on the crane.”

“Right. That’s what we do on a job site.”

“And then you probably had to rivet a few I-beams into place.”

“More than a few, in fact.”

“And you and the guys probably had to set up some of those white-and-orange collapsible traffic barricades around an open manhole.”

“After I finished riveting, yeah.” North narrowed his eyes. “Are you done?”

“That’s what the girls said as you and your buddies catcalled them.”

North grinned, and then he whistled. “Want a ride, baby?” he called, tugging at his crotch.

“North! You wouldn’t actually say that kind of stuff, would you?”

“Why are you taking the Metrolink, sweet cheeks, when you can get on the F train for free?”

“That’s really sexist.”

“Turn around, bitch, let me see that fine pussy.”

“North!”

North shrugged.

“You can’t say stuff like that.”

“Come over here and stop me.”

Shaw put the pizza on the coffee table and kicked off his flip flops. Then he climbed on top of North, grabbing his wrists. North twisted—his back wasn’t hurting quite as much anymore—bucking with his hips, trying to use his mass. Shaw had the advantage with position and leverage, and sweat bloomed across North’s chest as he struggled. A manic grin split his cheeks. Shaw was giggling, bearing down with all his weight, forcing North’s hands up above his head. North had to fight to keep a laugh from breaking out; he couldn’t help the smile, that was a lost cause, but he could still keep from laughing. And slowly, inch by inch, he let Shaw win.

Then they were pressed together, Shaw’s weight draped over North, the spicy musk of his hair filling North’s nose.

“Got you,” Shaw said, his composure threatening to dissolve into laughter again.

“You did.”

“Now what?” Shaw said. “I can’t just let you go. You said some really naughty things.”

North’s eyebrows shot up. “Naughty?”

“Very naughty.”

“I guess you’d better punish me, then.”

“Probably.” Shaw nuzzled aside North’s collar and began sucking on his neck. A prickle of arousal ran through North, and then a wildfire swept after it. Some of it was the dull ache of the bruise Shaw was leaving, but some of it was . . . this side of Shaw. This wildness.

North heard himself groan before he’d even realized the sound was coming.

“You like that?” Shaw whispered. “You like having that on your neck so everybody knows you belong to me?”

“Fuck, Shaw.”

Instead of words, though, Shaw responded with his mouth lower on North’s neck, the hard sucking making North grunt again. He wanted to grab Shaw, flip him over, get down to it, but he knew that wasn’t part of the game. The game, right then, was to keep