Cut and Run 7 - Touch and Geaux

selling it. I’ll donate whatever it makes to one of the groups trying to rebuild. There was a kid who used to bartend there, had real talent with the bottle juggling and mixing and stuff. I saw him at Murdoch’s funeral. His boss is interested in buying it.”
    “You don’t want to keep it?”
    Ty shook his head. “It wouldn’t last long as it is, not without Murdoch and Ava there. Her voice was what brought them in. He was what gave it life.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    Ty shrugged it off and nodded.
    “Did you ever get the curse lifted?” Zane asked.
    “Yes. Yes, I did,” Ty drawled, but he frowned as he patted Zane’s chest.
    “What’d the priestess tell you?”
    “She told me I had dark days ahead.”
    Zane didn’t want to believe in any of it—the voodoo, the mysticism, the incredible coincidences Ty said were fate. But the words made his stomach flip. “Do you believe her?”
    Ty met his eyes. “Do you believe we met in New Orleans because we were meant to?”
    Zane’s mouth went dry. “Yeah, I do,” he whispered.
    Ty nodded, looking grim. He leaned forward and brushed his lips over Zane’s. “We’ll be okay.”
    “More than okay,” Zane said. “We’ll be us.”
    Ty smiled against his lips. Zane chased him when he pulled back, kissing him again. It grew more heated, needier, devolving quickly into two men who hadn’t seen each other in a month and desperately wanted to touch each other. Zane rolled Ty until they both tumbled off the couch and Ty was sprawled on the floor, Zane straddling him. “Have we caught up enough that I can start taking your clothes off?”
    Ty laughed, a carefree, boyish sound, and glanced to his side, distracted by what he saw. “You moved the rug.”
    “I kitty-cornered it.”
    “Why would you do that?” Ty asked, aghast.
    “To see you lose your shit when you got home.” Zane leaned closer, grinning evilly. “There are other things out of order too. Books not alphabetized. Coffee mug handles facing different directions.” He lowered his voice to a whisper as Ty’s eyes widened in horror. “The closet isn’t color coded.”
    “You’re just watching the world burn, huh?”
    Zane laughed.
    “God I missed you,” Ty said in a rush of breath.
    Zane grabbed a handful of Ty’s hair and tugged, and when Ty’s head tipped back, Zane kissed him hungrily, not letting go of him. Ty’s laugh turned into a growl, and suddenly there was no space between them. No tears or lonely days, no secrets and no lies. Just Ty and Zane. On the floor of their row house. On a crooked rug.
    Zane reached between them to unzip Ty’s jeans, and then began struggling with loosening his own belt.
    Ty’s growl became a groan as Zane rose up onto his knees. Ty jerked Zane’s pants down to his thighs and sat up, kissing his stomach.
    Zane’s fingers tightened in his hair. He watched, inhaling sharply as Ty wrapped his hands around Zane’s hips and dragged his teeth over Zane’s hip bone. He tugged Zane’s briefs down, grasping the back of one of Zane’s thighs.
    “Jesus, Ty,” Zane managed. He wanted nothing more than to hold the back of Ty’s head right there by his hair and shove himself down Ty’s throat, but there was something else he’d been fantasizing about as he lay in bed alone, something he had to do now that Ty was back.
    So he gripped Ty’s hair harder and moved off him. “Get on the couch,” he growled.
    Zane grabbed the back couch cushions and tossed them to the floor. Ty began to laugh again, but he climbed onto the couch like he’d been told. He reached up to touch Zane, fingers digging into his hips. He thought Zane intended to fuck his mouth. He was ready for it, grinning.
    Ty was too much to resist like that, and Zane leaned down to kiss him messily, settling between Ty’s legs to let their bodies rub together as he moved.
    Then he pushed back up and unzipped Ty’s jeans the rest of the way, tugging at them. He didn’t pull them off, though, instead standing to kick out of his suit pants. Ty sat up long enough to pull off his shoes and socks and toss them to the floor, then shimmy out of his jeans and boxers.
    “You gonna do this wearing the jacket?” Ty asked.
    Zane closed his eyes as that image flashed through him.
    “You should have kept that skull bandana, Zane, it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.”
    “Christ, Ty,” Zane snarled. He yanked his battered leather jacket off and tossed it aside, struggling out of the rest of his