Page 40 of Fool Me Twice

All he needed to do was give in and Cane would give him everything. He could tear the world apart and lay it at Hart’s feet if he wanted it.

All Cane wanted in return was him.

Wholly. Completely.

Not the facade he showed the world.

He wanted every ragged, imperfect inch of him. The places he’d seen in glimpses. The places Hart tried to guard from him and lock away.

Cane wanted it.

Cane would have it.

Just…not right now.

He pulled back from Hart and looked down at him. He was splayed out, flushed pink and completely wrung out. At his mercy and beautiful. But there was still fight in him. Cane could see it hovering around the edges as he blinked, his eyes unfocused and hazy.

Not yet, he thought to himself.

He let go and got to his feet, licking the lingering taste of Hart from his mouth. He watched as good sense came back to Hart. Watched all those loose muscles tense again as he prepared to rant at him, rave, deny what was between them, refute what had happened.

Cane reached down and wiped Hart’s lower lip for him before he could speak. “You know where to find me if you wanna finish this, sweetheart.”

And then he walked away.

He knew Hart wouldn’t take him up on the offer. He was still too proud. Still too caught up in denying himself things. But Cane, despite people’s impressions of him, could be endlessly patient when he wanted something badly enough.

He’d waited this long, after all.

He just needed to wait for Hart to snap.

Chapter 9

Hart

“Awatched pot never boils,” Hart said, leaning against the large desk in Cane’s office.

He said it just to fill the silence between them. Just to give his mind something to focus on other than that kiss.

The kiss that had felt familiar with the rough, demanding lips claiming his. It had tasted just like he remembered—of smoke and Cane and the depravity he could deliver. The piercings that had brushed against the skin of his face had reminded him just who was stealing his breath and replacing it with pure, molten desperation.

Hart had barely slept. He’d spent the night hard, tossing and turning in the unfamiliar bed, wishing it wasn’t empty. Wishing he was pinned down against it. And he’d spent the day hiding in Cane’s guest room, refusing to go out until it was time for Cane to work in the evening. If he were being honest with himself, he’d confess it wasn’t because he didn’t want to see Cane. It was because he didn’t trust himself not to ask Cane to finish what they had started.

Hart knew all too well what Cane could do to him. Or better yet, what he could do for him. He knew just how quiet the voices in his head got around Cane. Just how freeing it felt to let Cane know what he needed and trust Cane to give it to him. To take control. To allow Hart to just be, without the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. Even in the midst of a maddening case, he knew Cane could get him there.

His mind refused to let him forget he’d never gotten it from anyone else. And Cane was right. He craved it. He was one charged look and one casual touch away from caving and asking for it.

He had to get himself together. So he went back to what he knew best. Offering advice and pretending he was much more grounded than he was.

Cane didn’t make it easy on him when he grunted in answer, never taking his eyes from the view outside his office window. He had his shirt off, his jeans slung low, the shifting patterns of his tattoos over carved muscle a vivid distraction that Hart pointedly ignored. A cigarette had burned down between his fingers without Cane taking a single pull. The sight of it threw another flash of last night into Hart’s brain, and he moved forward, closer to the window to find something to distract himself.

He focused on the purple and red LEDs through the window. The thumping bass of the music as the crowds that formed some of the deepest underbelly of the city gathered. Currently two ‘fighters’ were trying to make mincemeat out of each other, slamming each other against the bars of the cage. Even from this distance Hart could see the blood spray. He would normally have turned away, but he had a job to do, so he concentrated and tried to spot anything abnormal while Cane silently brooded.

There had been a few people in and out of the office since Cane had opened the place. Employees and guards who gave regular updates, exchanged money, and took the bets from the floor.

Cane had given each of them a hard time, double-checking every action they took in case they were afflicted with whatever curse this was. And when he wasn’t doing that, he surveyed his kingdom, hoping it wouldn’t crumble and burn around him.

Hart felt a small amount of sympathy, despite his jabs to the contrary.