Love And The Real Boy - Coming About, Book 2 by J.K. Hogan Page B

teeth. It was a spot—and a taste—he was quickly becoming addicted to.
    “It was the PI,” Rich confirmed between gasps, while Patrick went about his work. “He came to pressure me to make a decision…says John-Michael is getting anxious to meet with me.”
    Patrick stopped kissing and nuzzled behind Rich’s ear, savoring the spicy scent. “You’ve the right to take as much time as you need.”
    “Mmm,” was all Rich said.
    Patrick straightened up to his full height and looked Rich in the eyes. “Want to come back to mine after work?”
    Rich shrugged, but he also smiled just a little. Score one for Ireland , Patrick thought.
    “I’m already down the rabbit hole, so I might as well,” Rich answered.
    Patrick let out a full-on belly laugh and slapped Rich on the back. “That’s my boy!”
    * * * *
    The rest of the workday on the boat was cut short due to massive thunderstorms pummeling the entire Pacific Northwest. Rich wasn’t sure how he felt about the time off; his aching muscles were celebrating, but without the distraction, he couldn’t avoid thinking about John-Michael.
    He wasn’t ready. Instead, he forced his thoughts to a more immediate issue—the Irishman. Patrick pushed all of his buttons, good and bad. Rich knew the man thought he was some sort of rich, spoiled, self-centered asshole. If he only knew how wrong that was—only the self-centered asshole part was accurate. But for some reason, despite those feelings, Patrick kept coming back for more.
    Rich felt that getting involved with Patrick was kind of like watching a storm; getting so caught up in the beauty and power of it all that you don’t realize it’s getting closer until it’s all around you. But Rich refused to let it consume him. He’d take a good hard fucking—or several—to take his mind off his problems, but nothing more. He told himself that was all he needed anyway.
    Pushing aside his treacherous thoughts, Rich put away his tools and ran for the parking lot, holding his jacket over his head to shield himself from the pelting rain. His Camaro was still in the shop, so through some tacit agreement both he and Patrick headed straight for Patrick’s truck.
    The ride was silent, intense, and the cab was thrumming with pent-up sexual energy. Rich could feel his cock hardening just from the atmosphere; from all the pheromones buzzing in the air.
    Finally, Rich noticed that Patrick was headed towards Rich’s house just on the outskirts of Ballard—probably because it was closer than his own townhouse in trendy Blue Ridge. Rich glanced at him, eyebrows raised. Patrick shrugged without looking, and an adorable blush tinged his freckled cheekbones.
    “Guess I didn’t want to drive all the way out to Blue Ridge then, did I? Don’t really want to wait that long to have at you.” He tightened his fingers on the steering wheel, and his jaw clicked.
    Rich didn’t really know what to say to that, and he didn’t think it required an answer. All he knew was that it was fucking hot. He breathed a sigh of relief when they pulled up in front of his house; the silence and the tension were starting to get to him. He realized there’d been a break in the storms; the sky was still heavy and threatening, but the rain had stopped and a few rays of sun poked through here and there.
    Patrick still hadn’t said another word as Rich led him up the walk and onto the porch, but he could feel the man’s eyes on him the entire time. He struggled to control his breathing as his heart knocked against his chest. Something was definitely going to happen.
    Rich unlocked the door and went inside, leaving it open, trusting Patrick to close it behind him. “So, do you want anything— oomphf! ”
    Patrick had slammed the door and swung Rich around until his chest collided with the wall. “No, I don’t want a bloody drink. I want you.” He pushed Rich harder against the wall with a hand between his shoulder blades. “Stay.”
    Patrick pressed a