Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 1

Rouge vics. We hadn't found a specific link between the others yet. Unless you count the obvious racial and gay overtones. The first three attacks had occurred near Baton Rouge, nearly ten years ago. The unsolved case had made a big impression on then-rookie cop, Travis Boudreaux, and without him, the NOPD might not have caught on to the series of crimes as quickly as they did. The way I figured, Travis was entitled to run this operation any way he saw fit.
    "Since you just sent my best shot at getting laid on a hike, I figure the least you owe me is a dance," I said. Then I smiled my best, lazy smile and began to move.
    Although he'd approached me to dance, Travis was apparently still in his white-businessman-on-a-dangerous-adventure act. As he moved in time with the music, hands loose by his sides, he caught his lower lip between his teeth. The gesture was tentative and sexy as hell. Damn. For someone who always looked so well put together in a business sort of way, I didn't expect Travis would be much in the dance department.
    Stepping closer, I placed my hands on his hips and followed his movements. He looked down where our crotches almost met. I couldn't tell for sure what he was seeing in the dim light of the club, but I kept us from touching below the waist. If he came any closer, he would feel just how vested my interest in keeping us apart was. This was the difficult part for me… making it look to others like I was interested in the tall, good looking white guy while I pretended to my partner— the straight cop— that it was all an act. Because no matter how I tried to rationalize things, my cock was most definitely standing up and taking notice.
    "Relax," he said. I didn't actually hear the words, but I read his lips.
    Boudreaux stepped closer, and I tightened my hold on his hips, keeping the separation, but moving in time with the sway of his body. His lips quirked into his infuriatingly sexy smile and his right eyebrow arched. Then he changed the scene on me again, as he placed both of his big hands on the bare skin of my stomach, and began a slow slide up toward my chest. The palms of his hands were deliciously calloused as he rubbed against my damp skin.
    When Travis reached my pecs, he gave a tentative squeeze. I imagined he was doing some kind of straight guy's comparison to a woman's breasts. His thumbs brushed over the piercings and pebbled my nipples. For a long moment, we both froze. The music thrummed on, men all around us were dancing, pressing, groping. Some would be looking for the one, others for the just-for-tonight one. It didn't matter; the hunger for sex was palpable. Sweat mixed with cologne and after-shave. We stood still, the shock on his face probably mirrored mine, but I was sure it wasn't for the same reason. It's one thing to play act that you're gay, it's a different animal when you've got your hands on a whole lot of sweaty manflesh.
    Then his expression went from touristy trepidation to fucking hungry and he pulled me by the nipple rings until our pants were the only thing that separated us. His dick was as hard as mine.
    "Fuck," he whispered against my lips, just before he mashed our mouths together. There was no hesitation, just tongue and teeth and hunger. The tug and twists of the rings created a line of heat, straight to my cock. I raked my fingers into his short, silky hair to prolong the kiss.
    The music pounded, a hot pumping rhythm, and all around us men were engaged in the same mating rituals we were. Our hips ground out a parody of fucking as a dance.
    As the song ended, so did our kiss. We didn't pull apart, just rested our foreheads together, breathing fast. My heart pounded, and I swear I could hear his heart too. Of course that was probably just my own pulse throbbing in my ears. The DJ was shouting something into the mic, something about the sexiest partners contest that was coming up at the top of the hour, and the music started again. Something low and slow, and dead sexy.
    We should talk. I mean… I knew… hell— we both knew that we were here undercover, but there was no fucking way that was the kiss of a bi-curious man. It certainly wasn't the kiss of a straight man playacting to build a cover. Was it ? I pulled back far enough to meet Travis' gaze without crossing my eyes. He looked back, that fucking half smile back in place.
    "Man, you fly so low, you don't even make a blip on my fucking gaydar," I said.
    "Good to know," he said. He slid his hands