“Hey, Dad!”
I hug my son, spin him, and set him down. I carry on toward the house like I’m the fucking Terminator.
“Shit,” he says. “Dad.Dad, wait!”
I’m not giving Dirk the chance to run away. He wouldn’t want me to.
My boots are loud on every step, so he knows what’s coming for him. He could keep running, sure, but he’s not a coward. He knows when it’s time to face the music.
Stacey’s next. The voice of reason, I guess. “Trav, I think we should talk?—”
My growl cuts him off. Maybe the steam on my face, too. Anyone standing between me and my man’s gonna see the wrong end of my fists. “Where?”
Stacey sighs. “Kitchen.”
I stalk into the kitchen. Dirk’s there, trying to be nonchalant, leaning against the counter, but I detect the slight tremble of his limbs. He’s nicely terrified. “Are you coming willingly, or is everyone gonna see how I deal with you?”
Dirk becomes the perfect mixture of arousal and anger, gritting his teeth, eyes blown wide, his breath catching.
Yeah, I fucking said that, pretty boy—in front of people.
I step toward him, he takes a step back, forgetting he’s against the counter and there’s nowhere to go. “I … I … fuck,” he murmurs.
Digging my fingers deep into his hair, I tug hard enough to ignite pain, then I capture his cry with my mouth. I trap him in a kiss, denying him breath. I catch his tongue, kissing him until he scratches my arms. I allow him just enough oxygen to sustain him and then take him under again. I take him under until he remembers how mine he is.
When I release him, he’s chasing me for more. I rub a thumb over his bottom lip instead, leaning my mouth to his ear, so my words can be just for him. “Every breath you breathe is mine. You’re mine.”
“You’re my fucking breath, Trav.” A tear falls from his left eye.
“Enough then. You’re coming home to my bed for a while. They know now.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. Does this mean you’re not?—”
“We’ll talk about that.”
“Alright, then. Take me home. I don’t wanna be where you’re not, anyway. Love my friends, but I love you more.”
“Hey!” Dash says from behind us. I spin, but don’t let go of Dirk. Stacey has his arms around Dash from behind.
Dirk shrugs. “You’re a close second.”
“Fair,” Dash says.
They fist-bump on the way by. I’m kinda glad I don’t need to carry Dirk outta here. I would have, but it’s better I don’t chance throwing my back out. I’m strong, but I’m still human. Once Dirk’s in a helmet and leather, I fire up my bike.
Idrag him through the restaurant by the hand—hand holding’s something we don’t get to do often—and up to my apartment. Then it’s just the two of us facing off.
“I know we’re both pissed at each other, but it’s also been two days—two fucking days—of radio silence. I’m missing you, and I’m fucking horny. Sex first, talking later?”
“Why are you still fucking talking, Trav?”
He attacks. His mouth’s on mine, and his hands crisply undo my belt. There’s jangling, and it falls to the floor.
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
Dirk
