Closer: Bay City Paranormal Investigation, Book 4

an opportunity, Sam worked the shorts down Bo’s legs and pulled them off. Bo flopped onto his back, legs bending up and spreading, the phone still pressed to his ear.
“Uh. Yeah. S-so you’re starting— Jesus, Sam— you’re starting the day after tomorrow?… Uh-huh… Well, then why don’t you—” Bo broke off, letting out a sharp cry when Sam stopped sucking his balls and bit one firm butt cheek hard.
Sam indulged in a moment of smug satisfaction before taking Bo’s now-full-blown erection into his mouth. He shut his eyes and let Bo’s taste and smell and the feel of his skin fill his senses.
Through the rush of his lust-quickened pulse in his ears, Sam thought he heard come on out and plenty of room and a not-quite-coherent promise not to do something or other before the phone bounced off the carpet and Bo’s fingers tangled in his hair.
A thread of suspicion wormed through the haze of desire fogging Sam’s brain. He ignored it. Whatever Bo had just agreed to, he’d find out—and they’d probably argue about it—later. Right now, he wanted to wring as much pleasure as possible from this one perfect moment.
Something told him it might be his last chance for a while.
Chapter Two
    “Excuse me. What’d you just say?”
“I said, I told Andre they could all stay here.” “That’s what I thought you said.” Sam watched,
    stunned, while Bo stirred spaghetti sauce as calmly as if he hadn’t just ruined their vacation. “Would you mind explaining why the hell you did that?”
    “It made sense. They’re going to be investigating Fort Medina, and it’s just a few miles down the road from us.” Bo spooned up some sauce, took a tiny sip, and added a sprinkling of oregano from the arsenal of spices lined up beside the stove.
“They could’ve stayed in a hotel.”
“If they found a vacancy within twenty miles at this
    time of year, it would be a minor miracle. Besides, even the cheapest places would run us at least one hundred and fifty dollars a night for two rooms, and they’re going to be investigating several nights. BCPI can’t afford it right now.”
    “This is supposed to be our vacation.” Leaning his back against the counter, Sam crossed his arms and fixed Bo with a look he refused to call a pout. “It was supposed to be just us. Two weeks, alone, with no work or anything. We’ve only been here four days, and you’re already inviting the whole fucking office over.”
    Bo shot a barbed glance at Sam. “Come on, Sam, be reasonable. Why should they drive back and forth from Mobile every night when we’re so close to the site? There’s plenty of room here for everyone to stay without us being crowded.”
    He was right. Dammit. Sam wrinkled his nose. “I was looking forward to having you to myself for a while, that’s all. Half your mind’s always on either work or—”
    Sam bit off the rest of the sentence, but it was too late. Bo threw the spoon on the counter, splattering the green and white tiles with sauce, and whirled to face Sam. “Or what? What were you going to say?”
    Sam shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Like hell.” Bo stalked up to Sam, dark eyes full of a dangerous glitter. “You were about to say, ‘the kids’, weren’t you?”
Hanging his head, Sam studied a scuff mark on the white linoleum under his bare feet. He didn’t say anything, but his silence was answer enough, and he knew it.
Sighing, Bo turned to lean against the counter beside Sam. “Christ, Sam. I can’t believe you’re still jealous of my kids. That is so fucking immature.”
Sam didn’t answer. As much as he hated to admit it, Bo was right. When Bo’s divorce from Janine was finalized and she received full custody of their sons, leaving Bo with only twice-a-month weekend visits, a dark part of Sam had been relieved that he and Bo would be able to spend most of their time together without the kids around. He knew how important Bo’s children were to him, and he tried his best to be supportive, but the selfish little boy in him burned with jealousy every time he had to share Bo’s attention with Sean and Adrian. Being forced to share Bo with work during a time which was supposed to be theirs alone was just too much for him to stand.
When Bo pushed away from the counter and went to put the spaghetti noodles on to boil, Sam finally dared to speak. “I’m sorry, Bo. I don’t like feeling that way, and I’m trying to get past it. It’s just, we never have any time to ourselves. Not