The Little Death by Andrea Speed Read Free Book Online Page A

for real this time, I met his clear brown eyes, now the color of whiskey. He was kneeling beside me, and he stopped feeling for breaks as he saw I was awake. He was going to say something, his lips parted, but he paused as I wondered if I could mentally will him to do something. I wanted him to kiss me. I was half awake and half aroused, the drugs making my skin feel almost unbearably warm.
    Somehow it worked. Suddenly his mouth met mine hungrily, our tongues wrestling, and it was like we had never been apart. It was funny, but it was almost like our bodies were on autopilot, that we needed each other like oxygen, like water, something necessary to survival. It was passionate yet comfortable, his skin rubbing against mine, the scrape of his stubble against my chin, the way he sighed my name like it was the most beautiful thing in the world. The weight of him was solid and familiar, and it felt like home.
    Usually I topped, but I let him this time, content to let him take the lead, to fuck me. I wanted to feel him, see if my muscle memory of him was still the same. I don’t know why it felt so good to have him inside me, to breathe in his breath as he kissed me, to dig my fingers into his skin until he groaned, but it was almost better than the drugs. I couldn’t even feel the bruises anymore; pleasure overwhelmed any lingering pain.
    In retrospect, I hated my neediness, which surprised me. I just wanted him like I wanted a good slug of whiskey, and he seemed to have the same effect on me. I won’t lie—the sex was incredible, and afterward he kissed the sweat off my face and whispered, “I’ve missed you so much, Jake.” I stroked his sweaty hair and almost told him I missed him too. I did, but I didn’t want to admit it.
    We slept tangled together until the pain returned and woke me up. It was difficult to slip out of his embrace without waking him, but I managed. I decided to go back to my place to shower, but before I left, I couldn’t help but lean over and kiss Kyle on the forehead. I studied his sleeping face for a moment, just in case I never saw it again.
    I’ll admit it, my heart hurt as I left. I didn’t know if I would ever stop loving him, which made me feel like a complete pussy. I really needed a drink.
    I also needed to think, so after a quick stop home for a shower and a slug, I went to Sully’s for some advice.
    It was technically before opening hours, but Lau always made an exception for me. But because it was still morning, he wouldn’t give me a whiskey; he would give me a screwdriver, though (orange juice made it full of vitamins, or at least more like a breakfast food).
    After telling him about the bartender at Heat, he went behind the bar and made a call to someone he called “White,” asking him about the blond at the club. He listened for a couple moments, then wrote something down on a notepad. As soon as he hung up, he slid the piece of paper across to me. “His name’s Tyler Cross. His address is there.”
    I looked down at it. According to this, Tyler lived on Fountain Street, which wasn’t the best neighborhood, but made sense for a bartender who couldn’t have made much money. “How the hell did you manage this?”
    Lau shrugged one massive shoulder, and it looked like a boulder rolling downhill. “All us bartenders know each other. Or at least they know me.”
    “Damn. I shoulda come to you in the first place.”
    “You shoulda. Would’ve saved you some time.” Lau studied me closely for a minute, the moon of his face blocking out the sun of the Budweiser sign, and finally said, “I really need to get you an ice pack. And maybe some base. You an ivory, or more like a summer beige?”
    “I ain’t wearing makeup. And this isn’t the first time I’ve been beaten up, and, knowin’ my luck, probably not the last.”
    Lau frowned at me, like I was being the difficult one. “You should leave ’em to the cops, you know.”
    “Yeah, ’cause they’re so wildly