Cold Shadow (Cold Country #2)(59)

He heaved his body up and twisted his arms, freeing one wrist. "Motherfucker," he cried out against Nathan's mouth, wishing the kiss wasn't meant to punish. He wrapped his hand behind Nathan's head and clawed a handful of hair into his grip. He yanked hard, dragging Nathan's head back.



       
         
       
        

The smile Nathan gave him seemed almost smug. His pupils were still blown. The laugh that followed wasn't anything Drew had ever heard come from him.

The smell of burning flesh seemed to overwhelm him. The image of Nathan on his knees staring up at the man trying to slice him open came flashing into his mind. He'd heard that laugh before. Drew died a little in that moment. Nathan was in full flashback to that night and this time Drew was Harper. "I'm not him. Nathan. I'm not him."

Nathan grinned again, laughing like a crazed man. Drew pulled his hair until Nathan had no choice but to follow or lose handfuls. Drew yanked harder making him cry out. He took advantage of Nathan's momentary pain and dragged his other wrist free. He grabbed Nathan's wrist and tried to pin it behind his back.

He succeeded in rolling Nathan over enough to slide out from under him. He twisted Nathan's arm behind his back as he pulled his leg out from beneath him and pushed his head down into the mattress, holding him down. Nathan clawed the comforter with his free hand but didn't try to shake Drew off. He lay still, panting.

Drew looked up to Quinn, he leaned as far forward as his bound wrists would allow him. He was breathing just as hard. He looked … concerned. His dick stretched hard across his hip belaying any real concern he may have had. Fucker was getting off on them fighting.

"Is this normal?" He posed his question to Quinn, who seemed reluctant to drag his overheated gaze away from his lover.

"No," he said, his breath shallow. Fucker really was turned on by this. "Never."

Nathan shoved his ass back to bump Drew's crotch. "Finish it," he said, his voice a muffled growl. He turned his face to lay on the bed, his long hair lay sweaty over his eyes and mouth. "Do it, fucker, you know you want to."

Drew let him go. His dick went rigid in his pants. Jesus. Nathan Truman lay on the bed, his ass in the air, legs spread like some … Oh, fuck.





Chapter Fifteen




In his mind, he kept seeing Nathan walk away in the dark. He hadn't slept much after Nathan had disappeared from sight. He waited for what seemed like hours. He knew where he'd be. Up at his parent's house probably sleeping in his old bedroom. He could have followed him and begged for forgiveness instead of letting everything fester in his brain.

He didn't remember packing his bags or loading them in his car. He didn't remember leaving. He was sitting in the parking lot at the gas station about halfway to Nashville remembering the first time he'd stopped at the place. He and Nathan had been banned from ever returning.

He laughed about it as he went inside and used the toilet. He bought doughnuts and a bottle of milk. And gave the same little old cashier a hundred-dollar bill and told her to keep the change. She'd smiled at him. He'd thought she'd forgotten. 

"Still no sex in toilet." Her smile turned nasty as she tucked the bill inside her blouse. "Tell your boyfriend. And don't come back."

Little troll.

He took his doughnuts and walked out. Laughing.

And turned the car back toward home.

He was being a dick. A selfish asshole of a dick. He'd started the fight and blamed Nathan and felt betrayed when Nathan had walked out instead of following him upstairs so they could fight until it was time to fuck.

He was the one who'd done the betraying.

He was a dick and an asshole and he'd been happy until he'd pulled up beside Drew's SUV.

His gut twisted with jealousy.

He was fucking jealous of a guy they were both wanting to fuck. He sat for a long time gripping the steering wheel and wondering what they were doing inside. Alone. How long had they been there? Had Nathan called Drew the moment he realized Quinn was gone? Had Drew come running? Because no matter what he'd said last night, Drew wanted Nathan. Quinn could see it in his eyes every time he looked at Nathan. He wanted Nathan with or without Quinn in the way. And Quinn had conveniently walked out and given the fucker his chance to move in.

On Quinn's man.

He slammed his way out of his car and into the house. He was standing beside the pile of coffee and pottery when he heard voices coming from upstairs. Muffled voices. The house had decent soundproofing. He wouldn't have heard a thing if the bedroom door had been closed.

They seemed to be arguing.

He left the pile of coffee debris and crept up the stairs. Listening.