Though trimmer, he was about Ozzie’s height. My mind immediately went to Ozzie’s square hands and his stylish ways, and I could picture him taking me apart bit by fucking bit.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” I spat out, stepping back.
He grinned proudly. “Is that a problem?”
I shook my head, then nodded. “Thing is, I think this means Idolike my friend. And now it feels weird to… I’m sorry.”
He kissed my forehead, and I felt about twelve years old. “It’s okay, honey. Glad I could help you figure it out.”
“You’re like my fairy godmother,” I blurted out, and he laughed, patting my cheek. My ears got hot when I heard what I’d said. “Not that I’m calling you a fairy.”
“Oh, I am,” he said, turning away to look over his shoulder with a devilish grin. He even kicked his foot up, and that’s when I realized he was wearing heels. “Tell you what, if it doesn’t work out with your friend, I’m here every Saturday and Sunday.”
I looked at my toes, unable to keep the stupid smile off my face, unable to think of anything but Ozzie and the way he smelled and the way he hugged me. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
While I would remember those kisses for the rest of my life, I knew without a shred of doubt that I could never look at that man the way I looked at Ozzie. A movie played in my head, the greatest hits of every encounter I’d ever had with Ozzie. It was like discovering the movie had been in 3D the entire time, and I’d only just now found the special glasses.
How many times had I stared at his ass? How many times had I admired his clothes and the way he held himself? And yesterday, when he swiped the grease off my cheek, I thought he was leaning in for a…
Fuck, I couldn’t continue that line of thought in public. Well, in this hallway, perhaps, but… no. I had booked a room in the nice hotel next to the club, not sure where the night would take me, and I was thanking Past Walker for the foresight.
I tried my best to make it look like I wasn’t running out of the club, but I was definitely booking it. I gave up all pretense as soon as I hit the parking lot, full-on sprinting toward my hotel room.
By the time I shut the door, I was hard and dripping. Grabbing the lube from my overnight bag, I tugged down my jeans and briefs before throwing myself onto the bed. Not even bothering to take off my shoes, I slicked my cock and started fucking my fist.
I was not thinking about the guy I’d just made out with.
No—I was imagining Oz, his full lips against mine, his hands on my body, and within seconds I let out an embarrassing guttural sound as I arched off the bed. More lightning bolts burned through my nerve endings as cum spurted across my belly. Once I was drained of all brain cells, I lay on the bed, arms out to the sides, legs all twisted up in my jeans, boneless, staring at the ceiling as everything I’d ever known about myself shifted three inches to the left.
How the fuck had I not known that guys—especially one particular guy—turned me onthismuch?
CHAPTER14
ozzie
The Rainbow Note had a good crowd without being too packed. It definitely delivered on the chill, jazzy vibe. As we were heading to the bar, however, I saw something that froze me in place.
Beckett ran into my back. “Dude, what’s wrong?”
“Is thatWalker?” I asked, unable to believe my eyes.
He was at the bar, draining a bottle of beer. Before I could think to act, a cute guy in silver booty shorts—and nothing else—came out from behind the bar and walked up to him, clearly flirting. Walker looked nervous as hell, but when the guy grabbed his hand, he followed. The five of us stared after him, jaws swinging.
Without discussing it, we moved in unison, following at a short distance as they went into the hallway. I recognized the purpose of the hallway, and it wasn’t to create privacy for the bathrooms. No, it was where you went to make out—and maybe more, depending on how lax the club was with its rules.
Given that at least one guy was going down on another, the answer to that waspretty fucking lax. Still, that wasn’t nearly as shocking as watching Walker get kissed by the shitty bartender with his shitty silver lamé booty shorts. Their first kiss looked like it had been Walker’s first kiss, ever.
He looked like the gates of heaven had just opened, and I wanted that fucking bartender’s name so I could flatten all of his fucking tires. Except no, that would just send him into my man’s arms, and he’d already stolen my damn kiss.
I grabbed Beckett’s arm. “Oh,shit. It looks like he’s about to come.”
The way Walker was thrusting against Mr. Booty Shorts was fucking erotic. My mind immediately went to the vision of him shirtless and sweaty and greased up in undone overalls and… fuck. He was sex personified.
And he was kissing the wrong damn person.
Raising his brow, Beckett nudged me. “Do you see the way he’s moving his hips?”
I could hardly see anything else. “Yes,” I replied, disgruntled. “And maybe we should stop looking.”
