No Shame: The Complete Series Read online

  “My name is Indy, and I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

  He put as much warmth in his soft voice as he could manage under the circumstances. Fuck, his system was still on full alert with a body tightly pressed against him. Nobody had even touched him in a year and a half, and now this.

  It’s too much. He’s too close.

  Focus, dammit.

  “As long as we stay on the floor and he gets his money, we’ll be fine. You’re okay, honey. I’ve got you.”

  The man kept struggling in blind panic. Fuck, it sucked to hold him against his will, but what else could Indy do? It beat the hell out of him getting killed.

  He needed more senses. Smell was a powerful one. What could he make him smell? He’d taken a shower after his run—he’d snuck into a YMCA—with this floral-scented body wash, and he still smelled pretty rosy. Maybe that would work?

  “Smell my hair. Do you smell the lavender in my shampoo?”

  Indy lifted his head up and turned his curls close to the guy’s nose. He’d grown his hair to shoulder length since deciding to disguise himself as a girl, and it was longer than it had ever been.

  “Maybe you can even smell my shower gel and body lotion. It’s Dove. I don’t know if it’s true what they say that it contains real cream, but whatever. It smells great, and it makes my skin wicked soft.”

  Indy was babbling, his accent slipping and his voice getting too low, but he was trying, for fuck’s sake.

  Still nothing. Auditory, smell. What else? Visual. It was risky because anyone looking too closely could see past the makeup and women’s clothes and recognize the man underneath. What other option did he have?

  “Lift your head and look at me. Look at me.”

  When the guy didn’t respond, Indy let go of him with one hand, tightening his injured arm around the man in a secure grip, which fired another blaze of pain through his body. He cupped the man’s sweaty, pale cheek and raised his head slightly. The unfocused, panicked gaze in his eyes told Indy he wasn’t able to see anything right now.

  Shit.

  What could he do to bring him back? Taste and touch, those were the only two left. But they were on the floor of a store during a fucking robbery, what the hell could he make the man touch and taste?

  You.

  Without thinking too much about it—because thinking would make what he was about to do fucking impossible—Indy loosened his grip and dragged the guy higher, to bring his head to the same level as his own. He was still unyielding in Indy’s arms.

  Indy hooked his legs around the man’s thighs again and yanked his head down, crashing their mouths together.

  Oh, God.

  Shit, did he even know how to do this anymore? He hadn’t kissed anyone in…two years.

  Technically, two years, three months, and fifteen days.

  Not that he was counting.

  Not that those kisses were ever any good, or worth remembering in the first place.

  Not that Duncan wanted much kissing anyways.

  Too romantic. Too time-consuming. Duncan’s main objective had been to get off and who needed kissing for that? Mouths were good to stick your cock in—or so Duncan had stated repeatedly.

  Fucking stop it! Focus on the present.

  Patriot Guy wasn’t kissing him back. No wonder, Indy was assaulting his mouth with the finesse of a ten-ton steamroller.

  Indy softened his lips and explored the guy’s mouth, coaxing him to open up and respond. Come on, kiss me back, he willed him. When the guy remained frozen, Indy’s tongue peeped out to lick the plump, soft lips. Oh, fuck, they tasted sweet and salty at the same time. The man's stubble sanded Indy’s own clean-shaven chin, sending delicious tremors through Indy’s body.

  Wait…Was he…? It couldn’t be. He couldn’t like this, could he?

  A bubble of panic rose up again in his belly, but he shoved it down. He was okay, no one was forcing him to do anything. His hands wound around the guy’s head, caressing his wavy, dark hair that was a tad too long. Indy’s fingers trailed his smooth skin, his tight jaw with the pleasantly rough stubble.

  Please, kiss me back. Work with me here.

  Suddenly, the man’s whole body relaxed as if the air was let out of a balloon. He stopped struggling and in surrender, sank into Indy. Indy froze for a moment, bile rising in his throat, then willed his body to relax. You can toss him off any time you want. You’re holding on to him, not the other way around.

  The man opened his mouth and let Indy in, thrusting his tongue into Indy’s mouth. He tasted of chocolate, addictive and rich, and Indy’s skin tingled as pleasure radiated from his mouth throughout his entire body.

  The guy placed his forearms on the floor and put his hands behind Indy’s head, lifting it up to press them closer together. It relieved some of the man’s weight off Indy’s upper body, which was good, because his ribs hurt like hell. It also increased the pressure on their lower bodies, which ground together. God, he wanted to grind against him, grate his hard cock until… Wait. He was hard. He was hard as a fucking pole. Oh, God, this was bad on so many levels.

  Their slick tongues coaxed and explored, danced with each other, kept chasing one another in a sexy game of cat and mouse. The soft sucking sounds made Indy’s insides swirl in response. Fucking hell, was this how good kissing was when there were no groping hands, no expectations, no force?

  No, he didn’t want to think of Duncan now. This glorious kiss, this enticing, seductive battle of their tongues—this was what he wanted to focus on. Hot damn, this guy could kiss.

  Giving in to his needs, he gyrated his hips into the guy’s crotch, and he connected with a solid erection. It sent a shock wave through his body. A burning heat he hadn’t felt in a long time—had he ever experienced this before?—pooled in his stomach. He was so fucking horny. His hole twitched, signaling it, too, was ready for some action.

  What the hell was happening?

  Reality hit and yanked his mind out of the gutter. Fuck, he was royally fucked. There was no way the guy wouldn’t notice Indy wasn’t a girl. And when he did, things would go south faster than you could say Indiana Jones.

  2

  “What the hell?”

  Someone was talking to them. Indy knew that voice, but who was it?

  The cashier, Ralph.

  Patriot Guy’s mouth froze on Indy’s and his body stilled. Indy pulled back. Please, please, don’t rat me out.

  “You’re okay now, honey,” Indy said, turning the drawl back on just in time. Thinking was damn hard when his brain was transformed into mush. “We’re okay.”

  “I’m getting robbed, and you’re making out on the floor?” Ralph’s voice dripped with indignation.

  Indy lowered his head to the floor, his core muscles screaming after the extended workout they’d gotten. Patriot Guy’s eyes flickered in mild panic, then focused on him, narrowing.

  “How are you doing?” Indy asked, raising his voice to his pretend-girl pitch and cupping weird guy’s cheek, his eyes pleading with the man to help him maintain his disguise.

  “Shouldn’t you be asking me?” Ralph asked.

  “Well, sugar, I didn’t hear a shot, and considering the fact that you’re walking and talking, I assume you survived,” Indy answered, his eyes still focused on the bright blue eyes inches away.

  “I’m okay,” Patriot Guy said, his voice hoarse.

  “That’s mighty good to hear,” Indy said. “You were about to do something stupid, honey, so I stopped you.”

  Patriot Guy blinked. “I was?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “Sorry. I kinda blacked out, I think.”

  “Bless your heart. You’re fine, now. Do you think you could get off me now?”

  Weird guy blinked again, clearly not entirely out of his episode. At least he hadn’t blown Indy’s cover. Yet.

  “Yeah, sorry,” the guy said again, lifting himself off Indy.

  Indy unwound his legs, quickly pulled his blouse down so it covered his groin, and let his arms drop dead to the floor. Holy shit, everything hurt. His head pounded like a fucking jackhammer, and ice-cold stabs pierced his arm like when he’d broken it. He closed his eyes for a second.

  So. Much. Pain.

  “Are you okay?”

  Indy opened his eyes. Patriot Guy lowered himself next to him, studying Indy with furrowed brows, his mouth tight. He’d asked a question, hadn’t he? Shit, his brain was slow. Yeah, he’d asked if Indy was okay. He could lie, of course, pretend he was fine. Another wave of pain clobbered his head. No, this was stupid. He’d taken a hard blow to his head. He needed to be checked out. A possible head injury was not something to ignore if you were by yourself. Fuck, he’d seen more than one scenario of delayed consequences in Grey’s. He could have a fucking brain bleed! But how could he get checked out without revealing his gender? Or his identity?

  “My head had a rather unfortunate close encounter with the floor, and my broken arm hurts something awful.” He clenched his teeth and breathed through the pain, pushing himself up sideways into a sitting position. “Oh, shit!” Indy bit his lip at the unladylike exclamation he’d let slip.

  “What happened?” Ralph asked, concern ringing in his voice for the first time.

  “I fell,” Indy said when he was confident he could talk again with the right voice and accent. Holy fuck, his upper body ached like a sonofabitch, too.

  “You fell.” The disbelief in Ralph’s voice was obvious.

  “Yes, honey, I fell.”

  “With him on top of you?”

  “Why yes, I sure did.”

  “And that seemed like a good time to make out?”

  “Do you have a problem with that?” Indy was about to run out of patience with this kid.

  Ralph shook his head. “You’re nuts, both of you. Thanks for nothing. I was in mortal danger, you know? You could’ve tried to help me.”

  Indy smirked. “Mortal danger? Feeling a tad dramatic, are we?”

  As Ralph sputtered, Indy’s eyes traveled to Patriot Guy, who was making a call on his cell. “This is Joshua Gordon. I need an ambulance at the Stewart’s on Route 146…yes, same place that got robbed…female, about eighteen, possible concussion and a broken arm, in stable condition, awake and alert. Please transport to Albany General per patient request.”

  Indy raised his eyebrows when he hung up. “Per patient request?”

  Patriot Guy shrugged. “My friend works in the ER there. Problem?”

  “No problem, honey. Merely curious. Delighted to make your acquaintance, Joshua. I’m Indy. I’d shake your hand, but moving seems to be a mighty bad idea right now.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Call me Josh.”

  He knows. His smile said he knew, yet he’d described Indy as a female. Why? Maybe it was his way of thanking him? Whatever the reason, Indy was grateful as all get-out. Fuck, Josh was so cute, his eyes as blue as calm water. And he was gay. No doubt about it, Indy’s gaydar was going off like crazy.

  “You guys didn’t even know each other?” Ralph’s voice whined at a frequency that tested Indy’s patience. “Sheesh. I’ve heard stress brings out weird stuff in people, but making out with a complete stranger during a robbery? If you’re that easy, why don’t we—”

  Ralph stopped talking when Josh raised a single finger and shot Ralph a look that would have made weaker guys wet their pants. “Shut the fuck up. Right now. Or the shitty day you thought you were having is about to get way worse. You do not want to get on my bad side, trust me.”

  Oh my, Josh had a backbone. Hot damn, that authoritative don’t-fuck-with-me tone was seriously hot. Even through the pain, Indy’s body buzzed in response, his cock still halfway hard. It had to be because of the kiss. After all, he hadn’t even been close to another human being in over two years, so no wonder the kiss had affected him. Simple biology. It didn’t mean anything. Neither did the fact that they’d both become hard. They’d made out, of course they would get boners. Everyone would, right? Especially since they were both gay.

  In the distance, sirens announced the arrival of the cops.

  “I’d better talk to them,” Ralph said, shooting Josh a careful look. “Make sure they have a solid description of the robber.”

  “You do that, Ralph,” Indy dismissed him, his voice cold with disdain. The little shithead had called him easy. He might as well have called him a slut. Ironic, considering he’d only fucked one man his entire life—or rather, had gotten fucked by one sorry excuse for a man—and look where that had gotten him. And no, he wasn’t counting Eric, because that sonofabitch didn’t even deserve to be mentioned.

  “You may want to get another sandwich,” Josh remarked.

  Indy glanced at the groceries he had dropped onto the floor. The sandwich container had burst open, spilling its contents on the coffee-stained linoleum. The ice cream was half melted by now, looking forlorn on the floor next to the snack bars.

  “Well, fuck,” Indy said and carefully leaned back against the shelves. Ralph wasn’t anywhere near, so there was no need to keep up appearances.

  Josh shifted till he sat across from Indy on the floor, his back against the other side of the aisle. “Thank you,” he said after a spell, studying Indy from between his lashes.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I have…issues. I don’t do well with stressful situations.” He spoke low and precise.

  “I gathered as much.” Indy kept his voice level. This could not be easy for Josh to say.

  “How did you manage to tackle me?”

  “I have a brown belt in Brazilian jiujitsu.”

  “Impressive.”

  Indy smiled. “Even more impressive than my kissing skills?” He had to keep this flirty and easy. As he had discovered in the last two years, it was the best way to keep people from seeing the real him—the person who had to stay hidden to survive.

  Josh's gaze shot to the floor. Was that a blush staining his cheeks? Fucking hell, he was adorable. But why was he blushing? Indy had expected anger, embarrassment at being kissed by a strange guy, especially one that was dressed like a woman, but not this. It couldn’t be the kiss itself. Josh was so damn cute he’d have men lining up to kiss him.

  “What, no comment?” he teased Josh. “And you were such a prolific speaker so far.”

  Josh's lips curved shyly, making two dimples appear. Indy sighed softly. God, Josh had the sweetest smile. It surprised him, the effect this complete stranger had on him when he hadn’t felt anything even remotely similar in years, if ever. The combination of boyish cuteness and that shy, self-conscious attitude totally got to him.

  And the guy was one hell of a kisser. Fuck, that kiss had made Indy block the pain in his head and arm and everything else—no small feat under the circumstances. More surprisingly, it had taken away his initial panic. That was the biggest fucking miracle of all since even the smallest touch scared him shitless these days. He was skittish as a rabbit around people.

  Maybe Josh had this effect on him because he’d been the first to touch Indy in a long time. Could it be that he’d been unconsciously starving for touch, even though it scared the fuck out of him? God, his head throbbed, trying to make sense out of it. It didn’t matter anyways. Josh and he would go their separate ways, never to see each other again.

  “The police want to talk to you,” Ralph shouted from the front.

  Indy froze, his mind suddenly on high alert. Of course there would be cops involved. It was a robbery. All he had to do was act normal and it would be fine. He was not a suspect, so there was no reason to check his background, right? Oh, fuck, what if Josh let slip Indy wasn’t a woman? He did a quick check on his appearance, straightened the now crumpled and stained blouse he was wearing, righted his filling-stuffed push-up bra, and fixed the thin scarf around his neck that covered his Adam’s apple.

  Play it cool. And for fuck’s sake, keep your accent strong and your voice high.

  Indy raised his eyes to find Josh studying him with a curious look. He wanted to ask him, beg him not to say anything, but wouldn’t that trigger more curiosity?

  Josh hesitated for a second, but then he got up. “I’ll ask them to come to you,” he said.

  Maybe he’d gotten the message without Indy saying anything. Damn, he hoped so. He watched Josh walk away gracefully, his long legs eating up the ground with ease. Indy sighed, pinching his eyes closed when a shooting pain burst through his head.

  Please, God, let this cop be shitbrained and nearsighted.

  “Miss, I’m Officer O’Connor. Are you okay to answer some questions?”

  Indy’s stomach soured.

  He’d pronounced his name O’Connah. What were the odds of running into a fellow Bostonian in upstate New York?

  Fuck.

  You should have never traveled back so close to home.

  O’Connor, Irish name. If he has ties to the Fitzpatricks, you’re dead.

  At least he called me miss. Play it cool. Nothing is lost. Yet.

  Indy opened his eyes. A police officer lowered himself to the floor in front of him. The guy was built like a defensive end with a broad chest, strong arms, and thick legs that almost burst out of his uniform. Masculine face, dark buzz cut, strong jaw, sharp and assessing dark blue eyes. This cop was anything but shitbrained and nearsighted. Figured. God hadn’t answered one of Indy’s prayers in, like, forever.

  “Sure, Officer,” Indy said, drawing out his vowels.

  “Can I start with your name and a phone number where you can be reached?”

  “Indiana Baldwin, Indy.” The phone number rolled off his lips easily enough, the drawl thick and his voice soft and feminine. He could do this.

  O’Connor scribbled down the name and number in a tiny notebook. “Can you describe the robber, Miss Baldwin?”