“Cannon’s not one of ours, but he’s cute.”
Everyone looked at Ian, who shrugged. “Sue me. I’m human.” He turned to the women. “You’ll see.”
They laughed at him.
Joe continued, “Actually, we shouldn’t see him or the others. Their goal is to be invisible. We don’t want Kerr to know he’s been spotted.”
“Even though he knows we know?” Ian asked. “This is stupid.”
“So is dying,” Caleb growled. “So shut up and follow the program.”
Before Ian could throw a tizzy, Owen interrupted. “Right. Tim and Joe know how to contact me. Tim, you’re good?”
Tim nodded. He knew his major responsibility—keeping Ian safe, from himself if need be. The others would remain under Joe and Reuben’s watchful care.
“Anything you need, Bev, Dolly, you just let Reuben or Joe know. This business came up pretty suddenly, but after that, we just need to take care of the Kerr situation. I give it another two weeks, max.” By then Caleb would hopefully have gotten close enough to Kerr that Owen could nail the bastard. Screw a quick cardiac arrest. Owen planned to drag out the pain as long as he could. An aneurism wouldn’t work either. He’d rarely employed psychic torture, but he’d been dreaming about ending Carl for a while.
The question remained: just how much did Carl know about Owen? Because with psychic mercenaries growing in the field, Carl might have his own back-pocket weapon. And better to know before eighth hour struck. He looked at Joe. “Do your best to find out what we talked about, yes?”
Joe nodded.
Ian looked less than pleased at being excluded from things, but Owen didn’t want him sticking his neck out, especially not on Owen’s behalf.
He turned the conversation back to a recent slew of bad movies he’d heard about, and the meal ended with Bev’s famous apple pie and laughter.
Once everyone had separated for the night, Owen moved back to his room to pack up for his trip tomorrow. He figured they’d fly in Wednesday, lay everything out, set up on Thursday for the op, execute it, and fly back by Friday afternoon. That’s if everything went according to plan.
Ian followed him into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. Then he trailed Owen into the closet.
“I know for a fact your living room is bigger than this,” Owen muttered as he grabbed two pairs of jeans and some underwear.
Ian crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame. The camera would love him. The shadows over his face only emphasized the mystery in the man, and Owen wanted nothing more than to plumb his hidden depths.
When he tried to move past Ian to dump his stuff on the bed, Ian blocked his way. Owen sighed. “What now?”
“When are you going to tell me what you’re doing? Why don’t I have your private number? All that crap earlier about me being yours?” Ian huffed. “In bed, yeah. I get that we’re fucking. But I think I’m entitled to a little information beyond what position you want me in.”
Owen raised a brow, pleased when Ian frowned. He loved when Ian reacted the way he’d predicted. It gave Owen hope he might not be so off the mark when it came to understanding his new lover. “So then what are we, Ian? Fuck buddies? Lovers? Is this casual for you?”
“Back at ya, play-ah,” Ian taunted. “You’re the love ’em and leave ’em type. How many heiresses and actors have you on their speed dial? Millionaire stud on call, will travel?”
Owen couldn’t help laughing.
“You think that’s funny?” Ian glared.
“That couldn’t be further from the truth. Come on. If I randomly had sex with so many, don’t you think the tabloids would plaster my name up in lights? I’ve dated occasionally, and I like sex. But I’m careful about who I’m with. You do remember Linda Cavendish, my ex who tried to kill me? I’ve learned to be more circumspect since her.”
Ian seemed only slightly mollified. “So who was your last date?”
“Before you?”
“Duh.”
Owen bit his lower lip. “Before you…hmm. Probably Janson.”
Ian blinked. “The supermodel?”
“Yeah.” A woman so beautiful she could rarely look away from her own reflection. Owen had been horny, tired, and wanting to connect. She’d been at the same party and surprisingly feeling the same. He actually liked her, but they’d both known after sleeping together that they had nothing but the sex in common. “She’s a nice girl.”
“Janson?” Ian’s voice rose in pitch. “She’s fucking gorgeous. You slept with her? She was on Vogue last month.” Ian gaped at him, then after a moment added, “Can you get me her autograph?”
“If you want.” Irritated because Ian didn’t seem jealous, just gaga over Janson, Owen tried to push past him.
Ian pushed back. “Hold it. When was this date with Janson, anyway?”
“Ian, I have to pack.”
“Answer the question.”
Owen fumed. “Six months ago. Happy?”
“You haven’t had sex in six months? Or do you consider dating a relationship and fucking something else?”
He wanted to pack, fly out, and do his thing fast. The sooner he put the nightmare of DeSanta behind him, the sooner he could deal with Kerr and get on with the rest of his life—that hopefully included Ian, even as annoying as he was. “Do we have to talk about this right now?”
“If you want a killer blowjob in the next five minutes, yes.”
And like that, Owen grew instantly hard. “You do that on purpose.”
Ian smirked. “Nice to know you want me, at least.”
“How can there be any doubt?”
“But there’s more to wanting than sex.” As he said it, Ian got the funniest look on his face.
“Um, yeah. You look confused. I am too. Explain just what you mean. I thought all this was casual to you.” Owen was delighted. “You want more? To be my boyfriend?”
“Maybe.”
“So defensive. No, baby. That’s okay.”
Ian frowned. “Don’t call me baby.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to be like every other Janson you’ve dated. Call me by name.”
“Ah.” Owen dropped his clothes and tugged Ian closer by the belt loop of his jeans. “Ian. My little thief.” He kissed Ian softly. “My sexy cocksucker.” He placed his hand over Ian’s and guided him to the bulge between his legs. “See what you do to me? All I have to think about is your mouth, or see something blue and think of your eyes, and I’m hard. I want to fill that tight ass again, thief. Or even better, those full lips.”
Ian groaned. “Man, you’re good at the love talk.”
Owen chuckled.
“So you’re not seeing anyone now?”
“Just you.”
“And you’re not involved with Dalton, that dick?”
Owen sighed. “No. I told you that. He and I are just friends.”
“Who share secrets you won’t tell me.” Ian pouted and, when Owen remained closemouthed, grumbled, “Fine, go do your thing. But while you’re away, what am I supposed to do?”
“Stay here with everyone and watch them for me.” Owen kissed Ian’s cheek and trailed his way to Ian’s ear. “Help Tim protect the people I care for.” He licked Ian’s lobe and shoved his tongue into Ian’s ear.
When his lover groaned, Owen ground against the hand still cupping his cock. “Oh yeah. That’s it, thief. Get me nice and hard. But while you’re doing that, I want you to come for me.” Owen unbuttoned and unzipped him. Then he reached inside Ian’s clothes and stroked his thickening shaft. “You’re a big boy, aren’t you?”
“And getting bigger,” Ian rasped. “I’m going to come if you keep doing that,” he warned.
“Good.”