Intoxicating (Elite Protection Services #1)

by Onley James

“Tell my dad… Tell my dad I tried to end it. I tried to do the right thing. Tell him.”

Linc wasn’t sure what he’d expected when Wyatt opened the door, but it wasn’t a sullen fallen angel with sparkling green eyes and a riot of blond curls. He was all sleek muscle and sharp edges, lithe like he’d gotten those muscles swimming laps in the pool, not hitting the weights at the gym. His features were almost…delicate. High cheekbones and a perfect jawline. He was…he was pretty. Beautiful, even. Sculptors spent lifetimes trying to create that kind of perfection.

He could never look Linc in the eye again. Like, who said shit like that? Not straight guys. And definitely not to another straight dude. He couldn’t ‘no homo’ his way out of this.

“If you’ve got something I’ve never seen, I’ll throw a dollar at it,” he promised, his voice far more gravelly than Wyatt remembered.

Wyatt felt good in his arms. He fit perfectly, his riot of curls resting just under Linc’s chin.

The boy would do anything Linc wanted, he knew it in a way he’d never be able to explain to another soul. Wyatt was his; his to kiss, his to fuck, his to protect and discipline.

“I like to snuggle after an orgasm. Get over it.”

Linc was definitely his particular brand of heroin, and Wyatt was afraid he’d be chasing that high forever.

Wyatt never allowed to be a whole person, never allowed to be himself, whoever that was.

“You can’t leave. You have to bring me water and oranges. You have to take care of me.”

“If there’s any karma in this world, your dad will get face raped by a chainsaw,” she swore. “God willing,” Linc muttered.

“Do you want—” Linc started. “Yes,” Wyatt interrupted. Linc tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.” Wyatt’s hands flailed. “Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter what you were going to say. The answer is yes. Whatever you want…I’ll always say yes.”

“Oh, God,” Wyatt moaned. “Daddy will do,” Linc said around a smirk.

“Oh, do shut up, Martha. Wearing sensible shoes doesn’t make a woman a feminist or a lesbian any more than wearing that hideous yellow dress makes you a goddamn banana,” Violet snarked, shaking her head. “I swear, with women like you, I don’t know why my mother fought so hard to win the right to vote.”

He needed to be inside Wyatt, needed to possess every part of him.

Green means go.

If there was a god, the bed would just open and swallow him whole.

Linc looked at Wyatt like he wasn’t broken. He took care of him, made sure he ate, made sure he drank enough water, watched over him. It was why Wyatt had chosen him, why Wyatt trusted only him. It was why he was pretty sure he was in love with him. Just a bit.

Wyatt stared at it until he grew cross-eyed, waiting for the panic to set in. But, for the moment, it seemed all his demons were sleeping. Maybe Linc had worn them out too. The thought made him smile.

Wyatt wished Linc’s arms didn’t feel like home.

I wanted you even then. You were beautiful. Spoiled. A total brat. You were absolute perfection.” His lips skimmed along Wyatt’s ear, then his cheek. “I wanted you so badly I contemplated quitting. I couldn’t imagine spending the next six months trying to keep my hands off you.”

Linc hadn’t said he cared, but it was close enough, good enough, more than Wyatt deserved.

“That man loves you more than he loves his freedom. He would have happily gone to prison. Hell, he would probably die for you. He’s a smitten kitten.

You tell me every day that you love me, even if you don’t say it out loud.”

This is the best thing ever. You’re going to marry me, right?” Wyatt asked without pausing for a breath. Linc’s brain slid to a grinding halt. “What?” Wyatt pulled a face like Linc was stupid. “Marry me? Make an honest man out of me? Take care of me forever?” Fuck yes. A million times yes.

“Marry me, Daddy?” “Since you asked so nicely…”