Page 40 of The Devil’s Detail (The Greystone Family: Greystone Brothers #2)

Carter

It’s. Fuckin’. Ooon!

I can hardly contain myself. My cock is as hard as iron, and I feel drunk.

I’m wobbling about like a new born lamb, but Jackson takes charge and loads me up into the car like I’m the most precious cargo of his life.

Ash is driving, so I don’t want to kiss Jackson in the back of the car.

He hasn’t said I can’t, but he also hasn’t said I can, and I really don’t want to piss him off and end this before it even begins.

So I have to be content with pressing as much of my body against his as possible.

I want to rub my hands over his cock, squeeze the fuckin’ life out of it. I can see it now, standing tall and proud. Pointing right at me. I’m licking my lips in anticipation as I stare at him.

God in heaven, if Ash can’t feel this sexual tension oozing from the back of the car, he’s as dumb as a rock.

Jackson looks so fuckin’ cool. His security guy facade is back in place.

It isn’t until he clears his throat and looks down at my crotch that I see the chink in his armour.

Fuck, he wants me. He looks into my wide eyes, and he must see the same thing.

His little finger brushes my hand where I’m trying like mad to keep it still on the seat.

It’s a thunderbolt. A chemical high hitting my veins. All man-made.

This glorious fuckin’ man has bewitched me. Book that fuckin’ church. I’d give him everythin’.

I know I can’t show him how crazy I am over him.

He’d bolt for good. But I do need to tell him everything about my past. Sexploits included.

I don’t want secrets. I’ve had enough of those over the years.

They fester, and then blow up when you least expect them.

No, it's time to tell all. No secrets. But I need to get him in that bedroom first. Then I’ll hit him with it.

I can’t catch a break, though. As we pull through the electric gates up the drive into the front garage area of my house, I notice a blacked-out Mercedes in my driveway. Jackson looks at me, and then at Ash.

“Who’s here?” He’s asking Ash more than me.

“It’s Freddie’s car,” I answer before Ash can.

“He must have flown in after me. I left him sorting some administrative shit out. He probably has the contracts I need to sign, and they’ll need to be sent back quickly.

I might need to sort this out first, and then I’m all yours.

Is that okay?” I’m hoping he won’t tell me to go fuck myself.

Think I’m putting business before him. I know he can see the anguish in my eyes, and I don’t give a fuck.

He smirks at me, and I’m sure he can read my mind.

“It’s fine, Carter. Sort this out first. I’m not going anywhere else today.”

I heave a sigh of relief. Jesus. If he walked out on me now, I think I’d die.

In fact, I’d embarrass myself in front of everyone.

I’d be clinging on like a madman, begging him not to go.

I can’t lose him again. He disappeared to Ireland for over a month last time. It was the longest month of my life.

I direct Ash and Jackson to sit out on the veranda, while I walk into the lounge area.

And find Freddie sitting with my assistant, tea, and a younger British actor named Henry Blake.

He’s scheduled to be in this film with me.

My co-star, in fact. Younger, good looking, full of swagger.

But not as good of an actor as he thinks he is.

He’s going to sign on to be the comic sidekick.

He’s a nice guy, but not one I’m eager to make a friend of.

“You got over here quickly,” I say to Freddie. “Have the contracts been issued already? And did you bring them?”

Freddie nods vigorously at me. I can feel his excitement.

It’s contagious. “Got them for all of us. Henry, you, and me. I’ve also got revised NDAs for people to sign if you want to tell anyone.

” He points to my assistant. “Like any assistants, or your security guys. But I suggest the fewer the better. Just until the official announcement. Should be any time now, actually. They said today, and God I hope it’s today.

” Freddie is trying to contain his glee.

He knows how much money is riding on this deal. His commission is huge.

“The filming schedule looks gruelling,” Henry interjects. “London, Morocco, Italy. Some sound studio work. God, I’m so fucking excited. I can’t wait to start.”

And Henry Blake is off and running, like a bounding puppy. He’s been in a few films, but none as big as this. I hope he’s not going to be like this all the time. He’s also busy eyeing up my assistant, who, by the looks she’s giving back, is reciprocating. I roll my eyes.

“It's a quick start time. Around Christmas. Is that an issue for you, Carter?” I don’t know why Freddie even asks that. He knows it isn’t. I fuckin’ hate Christmas celebrations. I’d do anything other than celebrate it.

“I’m happy to start whenever. Do we have an official date?

” I don’t want any cock and bull shit. Hard dates and facts only.

Freddie can pack it in with all the excitement now.

I just want to get the contracts signed and kick these three out of the house.

I’ve got other business to attend to. Way more exciting business than this, in my view.

“Table reads start at the end of the week. Then it’s pedal to the metal. Full tilt to get it ready to go for the Oscars,” Freddie elongates Oscars and does a rainbow opening motion with his hands. He’s lost it, it’s the commission cheque addling his brains.

“Okay, let’s get everything signed. And I’ll go and find us all a nice bottle to celebrate with.” I step forward, hurrying them along. And it will only be one bottle. A glass each, and away you all go. My brain is already thinking about ‘my man’ sitting on the veranda.

As soon as I’m signed and witnessed, the others follow suit, and I head out to the veranda to let Jackson know I’m getting champagne.

He and Ash are relaxing at the table in the shade, two beers in front of them. Fuck, the man is delicious. Tall, muscular, every line on his body carved. But it’s his eyes that get me every time. So fuckin’ beautiful, and so damn expressive. They telegraph everything to me, and I love it.

My heart rate picks up again. Is it going to be like this all the time? If I go out for the day, will it always be as exciting to come home? I’ve never felt like this before for anyone. God, I hope this feeling never changes.

“Hey, baby.” Shit . I need to chill on the relationship monickers a bit.

Poor Ash looks shocked by the sultry tone of my voice.

“I’m all signed up, all emails done. Just going for a bottle to celebrate.

Why don’t you head into the lounge. We can toast this fuckin’ film, and then everyone’s bein’ thrown out. ”

I touch his shoulder. Well, it’s actually more of a caress. Ash’s eyes widen, and he looks at Jackson. But Jackson is not looking at him, he’s smiling up at me. Fuckin’ me. Man, I could drown in those chocolate brown eyes. Stuff myself so fuckin’ full.

Ash coughs. Clearly we’re getting a wee bit out of control. But Jackson just smirks up at me and grins at Ash.

“Sure, we’ll head in.” He pushes the chair back, and stands squarely in front of me. Is he going to touch me? In front of Ash? I don’t know if he’s told him. We haven’t talked about it yet. “One glass, yes?” he states, touching my face, running his index finger along my jaw.

I can’t move. I’m trapped in his laser-like beam. He doesn’t take his eyes off mine. It’s as if Ash is not even there.

“Hurry up.” Jackson’s voice is low, desire oozing from it.

And I hustle away, casting a look at him and Ash as I leave. He’s grinning at Ash and Ash is just shaking his head at him. Looks like the cat’s out of the bag. He’s going public. And I feel ten feet tall.

Can we really do this? He seems like he wants to, but I still can’t believe my luck. I’m walking so fast and my head is so far in the clouds, I walk past the champagne three times. I need to focus. Get these drinks, say cheers. And then celebrate.

Oh boy, do I want to celebrate. My mind has wandered again, this time fully trained on Jackson’s body.

He’s put it on display enough times during our training sessions.

I could draw every line of muscle on that back.

Every curve on his hip. Every ripple on his taut stomach.

My cock is as hard as the bottle of glass I’m trying to find.

As tall as a Melchiesedech Champagne I bought one day.

How the fuck am I gonna get through this drink while trying to hide this hard-on?

I take a timeout. Because I need to chill the fuck out. It’s cool and dim down here, the perfect place to collect myself while I collect the bubbly everyone is waiting for.

And what am I so worked up about anyway? Just breathe, Carter. It’s just Jackson. You know him.

I breathe in the cool air, the silence like a balm to my soul. I take deep breaths in through my nose and blow out through my mouth, getting my erratic breathing under control.

Now I just need to focus on my wayward cock—it’s way out of control.

My brain starts up again. I calm myself again and start to move towards the doors, the magnum of champagne in my hands. At this point I’m wishing I was a cheapskate who only bought standard bottles, or even half bottles. But no, I had to go bigger. And start at Magnums.

I’ll just drink fast.

I walk through the house, and it all seems eerily quiet. As I get nearer the lounge area, again hardly any sound. Deathly silence.

Then I hear it. The voice. The upper-class British voice. It envelops me, caresses me. An old friend.

In a trance, I push open the doors… To a scene of carnage.

Jackson has Henry Blake up against a wall, his large hands around his throat.

Henry is going blue, his face the picture of terrified.

Freddie is being held back by Ash, thrashing around and striking out at Ash, but he might as well be a fly buzzing the Empire State Building.

My assistant is cowering on the floor, sobbing, all the paperwork scattered around her.

It’s like a scene from a gangster movie when the shit hits the fan.

I look at the man I love, and I don’t recognise him.

His face is totally shut down. I stare at the mask of dread, and a tsunami of fear hits me all at once.

I see the soldier, the warrior, the machine.

I don’t see the man who smirked at me ten minutes ago.

I don’t see the sexy demigod who made my heart race into oblivion at the Daisy Cafe.

I see Jackson Fucking Greystone. Savage, feral, primal.

My hand opens involuntarily, and the magnum of champagne slips from my grip. It hits the floor with a bang, louder than a gunshot, shattering across the floor, the shards of green glass skidding out into the room. Splinters to walk on, for me to subjugate myself on. Showing me the way to hell.

His head spins my way, and when he opens his mouth, I know I have truly landed in hell. A hell of my own making.

“Well hello, Mr Bonney. Fancy meeting you here.”