Who knew what he might destroy before that wildness was sated?
* * *
An hour with the laptop proved that Cindy Jackman had never been married and had no siblings, so the guy who’d used her car to pick up Ghost must’ve been either a friend, a boyfriend, or a car thief who’d politely returned the vehicle when he was done with it. Which apparently meant a stakeout.
They found her exactly where her social media page had suggested she would be—at her job as a receptionist at a small nonprofit serving veterans with PTSD. They pulled into a parking lot that served several businesses in the strip mall and parked far enough away that they wouldn’t attract attention, but close enough that they could see both the beige sedan and the door to the nonprofit.
“It’s nice out,” Tobias said from the passenger seat of the Buick, grateful he’d taken Sullivan’s advice and stopped off at the motel for shorts and a white T-shirt. Jeans would mean heat stroke by this afternoon. “For the moment, anyway. You won’t be alone and bored with me here. I don’t know why you’re so down on this.”
“You are painfully young and innocent,” Sullivan retorted.
“You’re what, three years older than me? Four?”
Sullivan shook his head grimly, still staring out the window, and Tobias ignored it. He wasn’t going to let Sullivan’s pessimism ruin this—instead of being in his biochemistry class, he was on a stakeout. An actual, real-life stakeout with an actual, real-life private detective. Sullivan had said that stakeouts were miserable, horrible, awful, terrible, no-good things, but so far Tobias was having a lot of fun. And if he wasn’t so damn sore that he kept needing to shift his weight from one butt cheek to the other, it would be perfect.
Actually, it was kind of perfect anyway.
Sullivan eyed him sideways for a few seconds, his lips turning up at the sight of Tobias fidgeting. “You know, I almost put a butt plug in you before we left,” he said conversationally, like that was a thing people said all the time.
“What?” Tobias managed, his heart thumping double time.
“I like the idea of you sitting there with a plug stretching you open, right where you’re most sore. Making it worse. Every time you shifted or moved, you’d get a little burst of pleasure and a little bit of pain. You’d be fidgeting even more than you are now. You’d be miserable.”
Sullivan sounded almost dreamy at the prospect, and Tobias shifted again, his cheeks going bright red. He could imagine it all too easily, and he was already getting hard in his shorts.
“Why didn’t you?”
Sullivan’s small smile grew. “God forbid we have to run anywhere.”
Tobias laughed. “This isn’t what I would’ve expected. From kinky sex, I mean. It’s more fun than I would’ve thought. Or maybe it’s only that you’re good at it.”
Sullivan didn’t say anything for a long minute. Then, “Thanks, but that’s kind of a rookie analysis. I’ve made a few mistakes that a more experienced sub would probably call me out on. Or should call me out on, anyway.”
“Like what? It all seemed good to me.”
Sullivan shrugged. “Little things. Should’ve stayed in bed with you this morning. I’ve been too light on the aftercare, I think. Want to ramp that up next time. It’s tricky, because it’s sort of a balance between what’s good for you and what’s too...well, that’s neither here nor there. But I’ve been moving too fast, now that I think about it. You’re still new at this, and I’ve already asked a lot from you.”
“I’m fine.” Tobias cleared his throat, wondering what, exactly, was neither here nor there. “I’ve enjoyed it.”
“I know. But that’s sort of in spite of things, not a sign that I did everything right. I’m out of practice.” He glanced at Tobias. “I’ll be more careful with you. I promise.”
Tobias’s heart thumped hard. Sullivan’s gaze was direct and warm and honest, and Tobias could only fumble out a nod. “Thanks.”
Sullivan went back to staring out the window at the nonprofit’s front door. “Shit, I’m thirsty. Bust open that cooler, yeah?”
Firmly warning his pulse to slow down, Tobias reached into the back seat and grabbed the cooler Sullivan had packed that morning. “Why are you out of practice?”
Sullivan selected a cold bottle of water. He took a drink and fiddled with the cap, his expression going tense. “You know, can we not?”
“Oh. Sorry. That’s none of my—”
“No, it’s fine that you asked. Really. I’d just—It’s sort of heavy, and I don’t want to deal with it right now. Maybe some other time.”
“Sure. You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”
“I know. We’ll see.”
Tobias nodded and took a sandwich from the cooler, disappointed but unwilling to push. He wasn’t sure what to say next, though. Any number of other topics might also be too private for this casual thing they were doing. None of Sullivan’s history was his business.
Finally he said, “It’s crazy hot.”
Sullivan tipped his head back against the rest. He looked vaguely displeased, but only said, “Yeah.”
* * *
At five-thirty, Cindy Jackman finished her shift, calling good-bye to coworkers. She was a solidly built brunette with cat’s-eye sunglasses, dark slacks, and a bright pink polo shirt, and as she crossed the lot to her beige sedan, she was talking on her phone a mile a minute.
“That’s her, right?” Tobias asked.
“According to the pic on her Facebook page, yeah.” Sullivan started the car.
As Cindy ran errands at the grocery store and the bank before heading home to a little green house with a thirsty brown yard, Sullivan maintained a careful tail, finally parking slightly down the block and across the street from where she lived.
Bored, they got to talking about television—Sullivan liked the hard-edged stuff
