King Slayer by Layla Reyne

Author:Layla Reyne [Reyne, Layla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Layla Reyne

Chapter Eleven

Chris followed the scent of coffee out from his bedroom, the condo still in shadows, the dark of night outside just starting to give way to morning. Inside, the under-cabinet lights cast a soft glow in the kitchen, and across from the island, another low light emanated from the study.

While they’d fallen asleep in the same bed, Hawes wrapped in his arms, as negotiated, Hawes had beaten him awake and was snooping around the locked study he’d picked his way into, judging by the bent wire on the kitchen island. Not that there was anything in the room that wasn’t on the flash drive Chris had already given him.

He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and admired the graceful, efficient motions of his lover. Dressed in his jeans and one of Chris’s tanks, Hawes looked at home here, with his feet bare, his hair tumbled, and a mug of coffee in hand. He was the first person since Izzy to invade his space—his life—so effortlessly, so comfortably. It should worry him that it was Hawes Madigan, of all people, but it was the first time in years he didn’t feel alone in his own home. And that’s what it felt like for the first time in years too—a home. The pieces all fit, even if they shouldn’t.

“You didn’t look around last night?” he asked after another minute of creeping on the handsome, dangerous man.

Hawes didn’t startle, no doubt aware that Chris had been standing there, staring. “Needed the beer, and the sex.” He grinned over his shoulder, but then the smile fell as he considered the photos of Isabella’s crime scene. “Was still shook up from the almost dying.”

“You hid it well.”

“Not the first time.” He swung his gaze back to Chris. “We’re professionals.”

“We are.”

Hawes got that about him and vice versa. Maybe that’s why Hawes didn’t feel like a stranger in his home. Chris pushed off the jamb, ambled over to him, and slid an arm around his waist. “Doesn’t make it any easier, does it? Risking your life on a daily basis is still risking your life.”

Hawes set his mug on the desk, then turned into Chris, warm hand on his bare chest. The other curled around the waistband of his athletic shorts and tugged Chris closer. “You do, though. You steady things. I don’t know why…”

“You do too, for me.” Chris didn’t know why either, only knew that he needed to kiss Hawes, needed to taste him this morning, unlike the last morning they’d woken up in the same place yet on opposite sides. Chris mapped every sweet, delicious corner of his mouth while Hawes mapped every inch of Chris’s back and torso, sending ripples of heat coursing under his skin, through his veins, aimed straight for the center of his chest. When air became necessary again, Hawes rested against his chest, and Chris combed fingers through his wild morning hair. “Find anything interesting?”

“You have a lovely home.”

Chris chuckled. “For an ATF agent.”

Hawes leaned back in his arms.

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