Temptation and Tights by Pat Cunningham

Author:Pat Cunningham [Cunningham, Pat]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: erotic MM, Romance MM
Published: 2012-09-04T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Still six months ago

Same day, later that evening

Sometimes Burke wondered if Scarpetti’s had deliberately set about to make itself the epitome of all gay bar clichés. Small, cramped, gloomy, and loud, it served overpriced drinks and over-fried food to an uncaring, or perhaps resigned, clientele. He had no idea so many desperate gay men enjoyed cramming themselves onto a microscopic dance floor. In its favor, the close confines made rubbing up against one’s partner—or a total stranger, come to that—far easier. Handy for those surreptitious gropes, as well. Couldn’t beat that with a stick.

He bought himself a drink, tuned out the awful techno rubbish that passed at Scarpetti’s for music, and scanned the crowd from his seat at the bar. The encounter with Icarius that afternoon had left him aching and hungry. The velociraptor in him wanted to hunt. The man in him needed a lay. Best of all possible worlds here. His gaze raked the crowd for prey—tall, lithe blonds in particular.

A flash of handsome profile beneath a wealth of golden hair caught his eye. Burke leaned forward on his barstool. Exactly what he was looking for. Slim-bodied, straight nose, an arrogant jut of chin with that cute little cleft in it, its chiseled hardness made approachable by that beguiling smile. If God were with him, the man’s eyes would be blue, just like—

Burke nearly toppled off the stool. Bloody hell, that was Icarius.

It had to be coincidence. Another blond god with a marked resemblance to Owen West, that was all. Or perhaps West had an evil twin. A lot of heroes seemed to. Since joining the Fellowship of Fiends, Burke had never seen such a collection of villainous twins, evil half-siblings, and duplicitous parents and other blood relatives in his life, and all with superpowers. It made him supremely grateful to have been an only child.

Stare fixed to his quarry, he slid off the stool and shouldered his way across the crowded floor. The insular world of Scarpetti’s narrowed further, down to this one man. His prey refused to turn full-on in his direction, and he couldn’t hear a thing over that teeth-rattling thump from the speakers. Certain he’d regret it, Burke sucked in a hefty nose full of sweat-tainted, liquor-stained air.

His raptor senses weren’t on a par with, say, Silverwolf’s, but he could tell one man’s scent from another’s close up, even in a cesspit like this. If that was truly Icarius—

It was. The cologne that struck his nose, and the sweet, airy odor beneath it, both belonged to the man who’d flirted with him in his office that afternoon. The remains of that encounter still lingered in his nostrils. His dick, finally grown quiescent after bugging him for hours, got hard all over again. If it had owned a voice, it would be cursing him out for making it go so long without relief.

He’d be feeding both their appetites directly.

Halfway to his quarry the man suddenly turned and started worming through the packed mass of dancers toward the exit.

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