That was then.
This was now.
That door had closed after he’d been given an ultimatum and left. Knowing that Graham had never really loved him…
Or trusted him…
That had been a hard pill to swallow, and he knew it. Time had healed that wound, mostly, but now, here it was front and center.
Pushing the door open with foot, he carried the man in, and saw the giant bed inside. Oh, he knew why it was so damn massive.
Yeah, this was definitely Callen’s doing.
Gently, he placed Graham on the bed, and pulled back the bedding on the one side. With gentle fingers, he pulled off the man’s shoes, his socks, and considered leaving on his pants.
They weren’t a couple anymore, and he didn’t want to cross a line.
He knew he was a‘wear boxers’kind of a guy—or had been—and honestly, his pants were dirty from them rolling around on the ground, so he probably should take them off of him for good measure.
Right?
Leaving them on him seemed counterproductive, but that was only what he was telling himself. What he knew he wanted was to take them off of him and for one reason, and one reason alone.
Curiosity killed the Marine.
Sue him.
So, he undid the button, dropped the fly, and lowered them down his legs to get them off of his body and out of the clean bedding.
It wasn’t so much to be sexual, but because he needed to know one thing.
What was that?
Did he still have his tattoo?
Or had he covered it or removed it?
Call him curious.
With featherlight fingers, he lifted his boxers on his one thigh to see if it was still there.
And was it?
Yes.
There was his initial.
Oh, and it was unmarred—much like the G on his leg was too.
Yeah, Riley had pitched plenty of fits over another man’s initial on his body, but Michael wasn’t going to ever remove it.
It wasn’t happening.
First, he didn’t like to be told what to do or given ultimatums, as some people found out, and secondly, it was his past.
A cherished past.
Those three years with Graham…
