Page 137 of Too Close To Home

Then Harrison gently pulled his hand free and left, closing the door behind him. Jake stayed where he was. Heart still going like a bastard beneath the spot where Harrison’s palm had been as he stared at the door.

Fuck.

Something had changed.

He could feel it.

Whatever this thing was with Harrison Black, it wasn’t just about getting him naked anymore. Wasn’t just heat or curiosity or Jake wanting to scratch an itch with the ridiculously attractive detective who’d walked into his life at exactly the wrong fucking time.

If it had been, everything that had just happened should’ve killed it.

It didn’t.

This was going to be a bloody problem.

Chapter nineteen

No Procedure

Harrison got into his car, shut the door and gripped the steering wheel with both hands.

Then breathed.

Well.

That hadn’t gone particularly to plan.

He stared through the windscreen at the alley for several seconds before dropping his forehead onto the steering wheel. “Fuck.”

Twenty years.

Twenty years of one man’s hands. One mouth. One body. And tonight, for the first time in his adult life, another man had put his hands on him.

Of course it had felt different.

How the hell had he expected it not to?

He sat back and scrubbed both hands over his face.

The ridiculous thing was that he still wanted to turn around. Right now. Get out of the car, go back up those stairs and knock on Jake’s door. Tell him that freezing hadn’t meant I don’t want you. It’d meant I don’t know how to do this yet.

Because he did want him.

Christ, he wanted him enough that some part of him was still considering going back. Which was a problem for considerably more reasons than Harrison currently had the capacity to deal with.

Jake was tangled through an active investigation Harrison was leading. His sister’s disappearance was already dragging Harrison towards another. Professional distance wasn’t merely advisable. It was necessary. Yet Harrison had just been half-naked in the man’s bedsit.

Excellent work, Detective Inspector.

He bashed his head back against the seat again and closed his eyes.

He had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

No idea who he was with someone who wasn’t Chris.

And apparently far too little common sense where Jake Whitton was concerned to work it out alone.

There was only one person he trusted enough to tell the truth to. So he reached for his phone, scrolled to her name and hit call.