Temporary Insanity: (Temporary; Paul and Indy #1) Page 12

  And he did. For the next however many minutes—it wasn't as if I was counting when I had much better things to think about—he drove me absolutely crazy. Every movement was perfect from the movement of his mouth to the hand that worked me in time with it. And the way his tongue moved over my increasingly sensitized skin, well, I could have written poetry about it, and I'd never written a poem in my life. Not since school anyway. Every now and again there'd be noises outside the door, signaling someone had come in. Expecting Indy to pause, I was forced to take matters into my own hands when he didn't, biting down on the back of my own hand in an effort to cover the noises I couldn't hold back.

  A damn sight more sober than last time, I started off politely, my fingers tangling in his hair but more exploratory than anything else. My body knew what it wanted though, and that was the whole shebang. My fingers tightening in his hair as I tested the waters: just a slight tug, pulling him harder onto my dick. Not enough that he couldn't resist, but enough to announce my intention and give him a chance to say it wasn't happening.

  Indy released my cock, sitting back and meeting my gaze before winking and nodding. I stopped holding back, fucking his mouth the same way I had on the first night we'd been together. My hips bucked faster and just like he had previously, Indy took every inch, his brow creased in concentration as he focused on breathing through his nose. If there'd been an award for best blow job giver, I'd have given it to Indy there and then. No question about it.

  My teeth dug into my hand, the need to release some of my ecstasy verbally into the atmosphere becoming overwhelming. Then I was coming, my hands keeping Indy's head locked in place—not that he made any attempt to struggle. He took every drop, his throat working as he swallowed, his tongue lapping at my skin to clean up anything he might have missed afterward. This was the best party I'd ever been to.

  I sagged against the wall, my legs suddenly finding it difficult to hold me up. Indy maneuvered his way up my body, his arms wrapping around my waist as the unmistakable heat of his erection burned into my bare thigh through the material of his trousers. I guessed he'd expect me to return the favor. It was only fair. I might not like him, but I wasn't that cruel.

  Indy's lips trailed over the sweaty skin of my neck before covering my own. He tasted of cum. My cum. I didn't bother to complain, returning his kiss eagerly, the two of us not breaking apart despite the sudden succession of people going in and out of the restroom.

  Finally, I forced my lips from his, the sound of a running tap outside the door ensuring I kept my voice to a whisper. "What about you?" I punctuated my words by reaching down to rub his erection in case my meaning wasn't clear.

  He grabbed my wrist, stilling the movement of my fingers before shifting it away. "I'll wait. You can sort it out for me after the party." His words were accompanied with a narrow-eyed stare as if he was expecting an argument.

  I didn't have the energy. Plus, I wanted more of him. The blow job had been a mighty fine appetizer but I still wanted the main course so I nodded, enough of my brainpower returning to pull my underwear and trousers back up. "Your place or mine?"

  He thought about it for a moment. "Yours. You've got to go to work tomorrow morning. I'm not working until the evening."

  It made sense. I didn't bother to point out to Indy that the venue didn't really matter when neither of us were going to be staying over. He could work that out in his own time. Besides, it worked in my favor: no late-night trip home after fucking to worry about, which would help with getting up in the morning. Although, depending on what Tristan decided after my foolhardy actions earlier, it could prove the shortest working day I'd ever had.

  "What's wrong?"

  My expression must have given me away. I shrugged. "Nothing." It wasn't as if he could help so it was pointless telling him. "We need to get back to the party."

  Indy gestured toward the door, his expression pensive. "You go first. I'll stay for a couple of minutes so it doesn't appear too obvious. Neither of us needs to get outed as one half of a blow job in the toilets."

  I rolled my eyes, surprised by his sudden circumspection. "You didn't seem too bothered about it before."

  His lips curled into that wicked smile that I was getting far too used to seeing. I associated it with sex—an immediate heat rushing through my body. A heat that made me lament that it would be at least another couple of hours before I'd be able to get my hands on him again. There was no point in continuing to fight the temptation to hook up with him. I might as well enjoy myself. When sex was this good, what was the point in trying to deny yourself? I might be suffering some sort of temporary insanity for having sex with a man who'd also slept with my ex, but that insanity wouldn't lessen just because I stopped it. Better to ride the wave until the craving went away. It was just sex. I was fully in control.

  I glanced down, checking that everything was exactly where it needed to be and there were no telltale stains that would give me away. It seemed alright, but with no mirror in the cubicle I was forced to seek out the only other method of confirmation I had access to. "Do I look okay?"

  I realized my mistake even before the words had left my mouth, the heated gaze that trailed over every inch of my body only confirming it. Not waiting for an answer, I took the opportunity of silence from outside the door to unlock it and push it open. Closing it behind me, I hurried over to the sink, scrutinizing my appearance while I washed my hands. Not too bad. Flushed cheeks. A little sweaty. But hopefully nothing that couldn't be put down to the effects of champagne or a warm room if anyone questioned it. I gave my hair a quick finger-combing, Indy's fingers having wreaked havoc while we were kissing, the memory sending a renewed surge of color to my cheeks. Then with a quick splash of cold water to my face and one last glance in the mirror, I was ready to return to the party.

  I'd hoped to be able to sidle back in with a minimum of fuss. Except my absence had obviously been noted because, as soon as I set foot back in there, I was confronted by the sight of my father bearing down on me. My attendance year after year wasn't enough for him. He expected me to stay front and center as well, so no one could be in any doubt that the black sheep of the family knew at least some of his duties. I braced myself, knowing he'd get straight to the point. As usual, he didn't disappoint. "Where have you been?"

  I pointed toward the door I'd just come through, trying to do a quick calculation in my head as to how long I'd been in there. "I went to the restroom."

  My father frowned, making no effort to hide his displeasure. "I've been searching for you for at least twenty minutes. There's someone I'd like you to meet." He grabbed my arm and pulled me over to the side before I could protest. Not that it would probably have made the slightest bit of difference. I found myself staring into the face of Jonathan Rogers-Henderson. It was odd, really, that I hadn't made the connection earlier, considering how similar his appearance was to the man that had spent time on his knees taking my cock deep and swallowing my cum minutes earlier. They had the same green eyes. Jonathan's just carried a lot more crow's feet than his son’s did. He was still a strikingly handsome man though. It boded well for what Indy would look like in twenty-odd years. I gave myself a mental shake. He wasn't going to be in my life in twenty weeks, never mind twenty years. Twenty days was probably pushing it.

  I tuned back into whatever it was my father was saying.

  "... Paul is taking a few years out before he joins the firm."

  I gritted my teeth, managing to turn it into some sort of semblance of a smile when Indy's father held out his hand. I shook it, deciding there couldn't be anything more awkward than being introduced to your sexual partner's father straight after indulging in a sexual act with his son. Something brushed my arm and I was forced to revise that opinion when Indy popped up right next to me. I swallowed, refusing to acknowledge his presence. What the hell was he thinking? There were hundreds of people in the room and he'd made a beeline for the last place he should be.

  Jonathan smiled, obli
vious to my tension. "Paul, this is my son... " This should be interesting. What name was he going to use? There was a brief moment of internal struggle, which, to be fair, I doubt I'd have noticed if I hadn't been looking out for it. "...Indigo." Wow! I needed to take lessons from Indy in how to twist your formal, uptight father around your little finger. There was no name in the world I could change my name to and ever convince my father to repeat. Then I had no choice but to focus on the man I'd gotten to know intimately over the last few weeks. How were we going to play this? Was he going to let on that he already knew me? But then that could lead to some awkward questions. He might not be ashamed about his past actions, but I doubted very much he'd be pleased if they were shared with his family. That alone, made it very tempting indeed to do exactly that.

  My gaze met Indigo's, his glinting with the usual amount of amusement. No surprise that he was enjoying this. He held his hand out. The same one he'd had wrapped around my cock ten minutes before. "Pleased to meet you, Paul."

  Well, that answered that question. I took his hand in a firm handshake. "Likewise." I had to tug quite hard to get him to relinquish it when he held on to it for that little bit too long. He leaned forward, peering into my face. "Are you okay? You seem a little flushed."

  The question prompted my father to turn and give me the same scrutiny. I returned his stare while I daydreamed about how enjoyable it would be to kick Indy in the balls. "He's right. You do look a little red."

  I coughed. "Just the alcohol, I think. It has that effect on me sometimes."

  Indy turned to scan the room. "Speaking of alcohol, I could do with some more champagne." He looked directly at me, his lips twitching. "I have this really funny taste in my mouth for some reason that I can't seem to get rid of. No idea what it could be. It tastes a bit like..."

  I spun around grabbing two champagne flutes off a passing waiter's tray and shoving one into Indy's hand before he could finish his sentence. "There you go. Drink up." I waited until both our fathers were deep in conversation before leaning in, my lips close to his ear so that the words would only be audible to him. "I'm going to kill you later. Slowly and painfully."

  Indy's gaze flicked to the side, checking that the older men's attention was still elsewhere. Deciding it was, he turned his head, reversing our positions. "I think you're confusing the word kill with the word fuck, and while I don't mind slowly, let's skip the painful part."

  I jerked away, taking a long swallow of my champagne as I fought to keep my body from reacting to his words. This was going to be one hell of a long night. I locked eyes with Indy and he arched an eyebrow in challenge. The provocative son of a bitch could do what he wanted. There was no way he was getting one over on me. I scanned the room for his mother, wondering if I could dole out some of the same treatment. See how he liked it. And after the party, well then, he'd really get what was coming to him.

  Chapter Ten

  THE FIRST THOUGHT THAT came to mind as consciousness started to trickle in was that it was far too hot for December. I wasn't one of those people that liked to set the heating to come on full blast in the morning. I left it low and then usually turned it up once I was up and having breakfast. Then I became aware of the draft on my neck. Not a cold draft—a hot one. One that happened at rhythmic intervals. I tried to turn over, a subconscious effort to move away from whatever it was. Only I was pinned down, some sort of heavy weight lying on top of me.

  My eyelids opened, taking in the head of dark hair resting on my chest, along with the arm and thigh draped across me, which accounted for my inability to move. Another blast of hot air hit me as the sleeping man breathed out. In an attempt to make sense of it, I cast my mind back to the previous night, recalling the chain of events. The party I hadn't wanted to go to. Indy being there. The blow job in the bathroom. Indy thinking it was funny to insert himself into a conversation between both of our fathers. Then there'd been lots of champagne. The fact that wherever I'd gone, Indy had followed, sauntering up to join the conversation no matter who it was with.

  After the party we'd left in separate cabs with the same destination. We'd fucked twice. Once to take the edge off from the post-bathroom sexual tension and then the second time more leisurely. And that was the last thing I could remember. Which I guessed explained why he was still here when he shouldn't be. He stirred, making a sound that from someone else I might have found adorable, his arm wrapping even more tightly around my chest as his face snuggled farther into my neck. Well, that explained why I was too hot. He was like a bloody furnace. A furnace that shouldn't be there and even if he was should have stayed on his side of the bed instead of snuggling up to me.

  I shoved at his shoulder, trying to get him to roll off me. He gave another sleepy murmur and clung on like a leech, thwarting any attempt to move him. Grabbing his shoulder, I shook him none too gently, his eyelids slowly fluttering open. I glared at him, putting all the venom into it that I could muster. "Why are you here?"

  He closed his eyes again, his fingers trailing down over my rib cage in a way that did absolutely nothing to convince my morning wood to calm down. I needed to give my dick a good talking to about three orgasms in under twenty-four hours being more than enough. "Where's here?"

  "My flat. My bed. My..." I waved the arm that wasn't pinned beneath him. "...body. Why didn't you leave? That's what you were supposed to do. That's the deal. You know that."

  I felt his smile against my chest. "I must have forgotten signing the contract. I guess I fell asleep. What time is it?"

  I glanced at the clock. "Five twenty-five."

  Indy groaned, burying his head in my chest. "Why are you waking me up at this godforsaken hour? I knew you were mean, but I didn't know you were that mean. It's the middle of the night."

  I poked him in the head. "Well, then you should have gone home. Then I wouldn't be able to wake you up, would I?"

  I got no more than a grunt for that comment. I sat up, Indy having no choice but to relinquish his hold on me and move over to the other side of the bed. He sighed and pushed his head into the pillow, his eyes already closing. Fucker was going to go back to sleep. "Call Dominic."

  I gave him a narrow-eyed stare. "What?"

  "You came up with a plan last night. You decided that the best way to get Tristan on your side was to go through Dominic. I think you called him his Achilles heel. Not sure you said Achilles though. I think you got your Greek gods mixed up like a drunken twat. Anyway, that was your plan in order to keep your job. You want to keep it, right?"

  "I told you about that?"

  Indy gave a wry laugh. "In great excruciating detail. I almost felt like I was there. You pretty much acted it all out for me."

  I cast my mind back, but somewhere after the fourth or fifth glass of champagne, the evening had become a bit of a blur. I could remember the basics, but not the details. Getting Dominic onside made an awful lot of sense though. Luckily, my phone was on the nightstand. I picked it up, dialing Dom's number. It rang for a while without being answered so I hung up. I glared at Indy's back, doing my best to ignore the tanned skin on display with the sheet tangled around his waist. "What else did I tell you?"

  "Erm... you told me about when you were six and you fell in the paddling pool headfirst and the dog jumped on top of your head and nearly drowned you. You accused him of trying to do it deliberately. Bastard murder dog, you called him."

  I would have thought he was making it up, except it had actually happened. I'd never forgiven my parents for keeping that dog. "Why the hell would I tell you that?"

  Indy's shoulders shook with laughter even while his eyes remained closed. "No idea. You tend to get a little loose-lipped when you drink. Maybe I should force-feed you champagne more often."

  My phone started to ring—Dom calling me back. Still mulling over what possible reasons I might have had for sharing my childhood with Indy and what else I might have said, I answered it with a hello.

  "Do you know what time it is, Paul?"

>   Dominic didn't sound exactly pleased to hear from me. I winced, noting that Indy had opened his eyes, as well as rolling over onto his back to watch me. I placed my finger on my lips to tell him to be quiet. I didn't need Dom realizing I wasn't alone and asking questions I didn't want to answer. Indy rolled his eyes. "Sorry. But I needed to talk to you. How are you? I heard what happened. I should have called you yesterday, but—"

  "Well, that would definitely have been preferable to half past five in the morning. I'm fine."

  "Good." I stared at Indy, wishing he'd shared a little more of my plan, apart from to call Dominic. That way, I might have had more of a clue about what to say.

  Dom gave a pissed-off-sounding sigh. "Well, I'm really glad we had this conversation at half past five in the morning, Paul. Did I mention it's not six o' clock yet?"

  I guessed saying anything was better than calling him to give him the silent treatment. "Sorry. Did you... erm... happen to... erm... talk to Tristan last night?"

  "I did, and yes, he did tell me what happened between the two of you. What were you thinking, Paul?"

  He sounded exasperated. That wasn't a good sign. I shifted my head, ignoring the faint pulsing in my temples from too much champagne. I seemed to remember Indy forcing water down me again. It must be a bartender thing. "Shit. Are you pissed at me? That's why I didn't call you last night." That and the fact that I'd been stuck at the party. But I tended not to talk about my family with Dom. He didn't get it. To him, having rich parents with their own business could never be a bad thing. I didn't blame him. Nobody got it. My gaze slid over of its own accord to Indy. Except for him—our backgrounds and choices were eerily similar. "I figured if you were, I'd give you a chance to calm down."

  There was a momentary pause while I assumed Dom considered his feelings. "I'm not sure. I don't know whether to be angry you did a stupid thing without even hearing my side of the story first or pleased you'd risk your job to stick up for me."