Wyatt moved, still not speaking. When they got to his room, he turned on Linc. “Are you going to tell my dad I was drinking?”
Linc examined him, trying not to get lost in luminous green eyes. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to tell your dad you’ve been drinking so he can have another reason to be mad at you?”
Wyatt’s face fell and his cheeks flamed. “Good night, Linc. Thanks for the pasta.”
Two gunshots had Wyatt rocketing upright in his bed. He couldn’t see. The taste of metal filled his mouth, electricity jolting along his spine. He was blind.
“Rise and shine!”
The words exploded in his head like shrapnel from a dirty bomb. His hands flew to his face, relief washing over him as he realized he wore a black silk eye mask and the sexy-as-fuck soldier shouting at him hadn’t, in fact, shot and blinded him. The loud bangs must have been Linc’s fist hitting his door before entering.
His relief was short-lived as he peeled off the mask and the sun seared a hole through his already aching brain. He couldn’t help the whimper that escaped. “Why?” was all he could manage. His tongue felt like he’d dragged it across a thousand dirty carpets.
What had happened last night? He didn’t want to know. He slipped the mask back in place before rolling over and nestling himself deeper into the comforter trapped beneath him. There was a moment when the world righted itself before his stomach sloshed and the mattress began to rise and fall like it rode the waves of rough seas. “Why is the bed moving?” he groaned.
A low chuckle sounded from the vicinity of the doorway. “It's not. You’re hungover.”
“Why… are… you… screaming?” he asked in a desperate whisper.
“I’m not screaming. Why are you naked?”
“I’m not na—” he started.
Except he was. Totally naked and laid out over the covers like he was presenting himself to Linc. Oh, God. His already aching cock throbbed. He was thankful he was lying on his stomach. But that left him in a weird predicament. Did he just stay there, ass up, until Linc let him be? Did he cover himself and act like some scandalized maiden?
Another thought sent a shudder through him. Was Linc looking at him? The idea made him want to grind himself down onto the mattress. Guys like Linc… military guys… they all had girlfriends and wives. Even the ones who were gay were so deep in the closet they were frolicking with woodland creatures in Narnia.
What the hell was wrong with him? Everything. Fucking everything.
You’d make a good Daddy.
Heat flooded Wyatt’s face. Jesus, he’d actually said those words to Linc last night. He’d gazed up into those warm whiskey eyes and told GI Joe he’d be a good Daddy. What the fuck? There was nothing left for Wyatt to do but lie there hungover and horny and just wait to starve to death and die. He could never look Linc in the eye again. Like, who said shit like that? Not straight guys. And definitely not to another straight dude. He couldn’t “no homo” his way out of this.
He hoped his humiliation would somehow lessen his hard-on, but nope. Apparently, Wyatt had all kinds of kinks. Had Linc left? Was he looking at him? God, the thought of Linc watching him had him wanting to arch up, push his hips into the air, present for him. Would he like what he saw? Would he want more? What would more look like with somebody like Linc? He wanted to know more than he wanted his next breath. More than he wanted his hangover to disappear.
Linc let out a strangled cough and then cleared his throat. “I told you yesterday. You will not sleep all day. Get up and get in the shower. I’ll make you something to eat.”
Wyatt swallowed. “I just need another hour. My head is pounding.”
“There’s a bottle of water next to your bed and some ibuprofen. Take the pills. Drink the whole bottle. Then get in the shower.” When Wyatt didn’t move, Linc barked, “Now.”
“I’m a little naked here.”
Linc snorted. “If you’ve got something I’ve never seen I’ll throw a dollar at it,” he promised, his voice far more gravelly than Wyatt remembered.
It was clear Linc wasn’t leaving… ever. “Yeah, fine.”
Once more he peeled off the eye mask, but this time when he rolled over into a sitting position, he brought the covers with him, even if it looked a little ridiculous. He fought to keep the contents of his stomach where they were as the world assaulted him on every front. Linc looked fresh and clean in a pair of jeans and an olive-colored t-shirt. Wyatt had been right, Linc’s arms were huge. He was huge. Was he huge everywhere? Wyatt forced the thought down before he started tenting the sheets.
Linc watched Wyatt with a strangely guarded look. Wyatt made a show of tossing the pills back and sucking down all twelve ounces of water before turning the empty bottle over so Linc would see he was compliant. Linc snorted and shook his head but said nothing.
Good boy.
Linc had said that to him last night. He’d practically purred it. Was that real? It couldn’t be. Not even twenty-four hours with this guy and Wyatt was ready for the nut house. How was he going to survive six months with this man? His fucking dickhead father had finally found the perfect punishment.
Once Linc left, Wyatt practically crawled into the bathroom. He turned on the hot water and sat on the floor of the shower until some of the cobwebs in his brain finally faded away. He didn’t bother to shave. He didn’t trust himself around a razor. He brushed his teeth and threw on a pair of black joggers and the first t-shirt his hand touched, a white V-neck with the Chanel logo in bold black script. He didn’t try to tame his damp curls. He was too busy trying to navigate walking and breathing at the same time.
How much did he even drink last night?
