At first Tyler’s rejection pricked him. Now, with a clear head, he didn’t give a damn. His parents didn’t care about him either, and he did fine without them as well. He’d easily find a man who wanted him; there was never a shortage of willing, eager men to warm his bed. But even as he said good night to Zach and Sam, kissing them each goodbye with promises of dinner later in the week, his gaze searched the crowded club for Tyler and found him dancing on a table top, the now familiar salivating crowd of men waving money or tucking the bills into his tight shorts, sometimes giving him a squeeze or a fondle. Marcus’s jaw tightened when Tyler failed to push them off or snarl at them the way he had at Marcus earlier.
Why did Tyler push him away?
Chapter Six
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Tyler slept badlythat night; interspersed with his dreams of auditions he didn’t get because he failed to give sexual favors, and horrendous injuries he suffered, ruining his ability to dance, was the hurt expression that had flashed across Marcus’s face when Tyler pushed him away.
He’d only gotten to sleep at four a.m., yet not two hours later Tyler found himself drinking a cup of coffee, sitting at the counter that doubled as a kitchen table and so much more. New York City one-bedroom apartments rarely had eat-in kitchens, and he knew to be grateful for what he had.
The oversized mug warmed his hands, and he made a note to call the landlord again about the lack of heating, although Tyler knew it wouldn’t do much good. The area consisted of a mix of Pakistanis, Russians, and a slow but steady influx of Manhattanites who’d only recently discovered the surrounding neighborhoods of old Victorian homes. His landlord didn’t give a shit about the tenants; all he wanted was for them to pay the rent. If Tyler wanted action, he’d have to call 311 and make a complaint.
But the cold apartment wasn’t the culprit for his fitful dreams and wakefulness; Tyler had become almost immune to it and had plenty of blankets to stave off the chill. No, Marcus was the catalyst for his sleepless state; that disturbing, erotic kiss they shared was like an earworm: he couldn’t get rid of it replaying in his head.
The pure rawness and lust of the kiss scorched him; Tyler had never been quite as owned by a kiss before. Even now, he touched his lips with tentative fingers as if expecting to find them chafed and blistered from the searing heat of Marcus’s mouth.
Raw, carnal, and passionate. When he’d been as yet unaware of whom he was kissing, Tyler had wanted nothing more than to drag the man off to a corner, shuck his pants down, and fuck him hard. Whoever this man was, he’d reignited a fire inside him that he’d thought burned out long ago yet now found fuel in that one, amazing kiss.
But when he opened his eyes and Marcus’s face loomed before him, Tyler froze and went on the defensive, pushing him far away. And when Marcus made that suggestion to go back to his office, he couldn’t know how hard Tyler struggled against the impulse to take his hand and run. His body had positively vibrated with need.
That’s when his innate good sense kicked in, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him until his teeth rattled. Getting involved with Marcus would be a horrible mistake, and Tyler wasn’t foolish enough to take that first step. He had zero time in his life for a man as complicated as Marcus.
Between his personal observations and the gossiping tidbits he picked up from listening to coworkers, Tyler’s image of Marcus was that of a spoiled and self-centered man, one whose focus centered on his libido and desires alone. Tyler hadn’t lived through personal hell to end up worshipping at the altar of Marcus Feldman. His obligations today far exceeded his need for sex anyway. He’d been doing fine with his right hand for a while now.
A knock at the door startled him; he checked his watch and saw it was only six-fifteen a.m. Who the hell could it be? His rent was paid, and he didn’t owe anyone anything. All he knew was that nothing good occurred early in the morning, so with his heart banging and much trepidation, Tyler hurried to open the door before the knocking woke people up.
“Who is—” The words dried up in his throat at the sight of Marcus. With his haunted eyes, unshaven face, and windblown hair, he proved more desirable than Tyler had ever imagined.
“I need to talk to you.”
Tyler remained frozen in his doorway, fear, worry, and excitement whizzing through him so fast he felt dizzy from the rush. Reflexively he glanced behind him, making certain they were still alone. His heart slammed in hard painful beats against his rib cage.
The expectant yet hesitant expression on Marcus’s face shocked Tyler; he usually seemed so calm and in control. That familiar, hardened look in his eyes coupled with his annoying arrogant grin were nowhere in sight. For the first time, Tyler knew he had a glimpse of the man behind the flashing lights and glossy exterior. Always supremely confident, now that the cracks in his armor showed, it made Marcus more likable and relatable.
And ultimately more dangerous. Tyler didn’t want to think of Marcus as vulnerable and emotional; that created a man who Tyler might come to like as a friend.
“Can I please come in and talk to you for a minute?”
Without speaking, Tyler opened the door wider, turned around, and walked to the kitchen area, which was no more than an open space with the small counter, stove, and refrigerator. He needed a moment to gather his thoughts and get away from the disturbing emotions Marcus stirred up.
Tyler’s strength had been tested so many different ways these past few years that there were times he was amazed he was still standing upright and undamaged. Priorities had a way of changing in a split second, leaving consequences that lasted a lifetime, and Tyler’s priority was no longer himself. From a career change that forced him to give up his childhood dream, to a life-altering decision that he never regretted but sometimes doubted he was capable of handling, Tyler reminded himself exactly what was important to him now. Not random sex, nor the good-looking man in front of him, whose earlier kiss he could still taste in his mouth.
For a brief moment Tyler closed his eyes, imagining what sex with Marcus would be like. Volcanic, fiery, and ultimately, for him, heartbreaking, since Tyler knew how easy it would be to fall for Marcus without having the feelings returned in kind.
He opened the cabinet to take down a mug to offer Marcus a cup of coffee. The brush of cool, early morning air wrapped around him from behind, and Tyler knew Marcus stood close enough to touch. He could smell him, for Christ’s sake. Gulping down his nerves, Tyler turned abruptly to face him.
“Why are you here?”
Those violet eyes searched his. “I have no fucking clue, but I have to find out.”
“Find out what?” Tyler’s voice caught in his throat, and he damned his treacherous body for betraying him. The memory of their hot, needy kiss, drawing the breath from his lungs, had his cock hard and leaking.
“I don’t know.” Marcus crowded him so his back hit the counter, and there was nowhere for him to run this time. “Why you let other men touch and kiss you, but me you push away.” With a sigh of frustration, Marcus brushed the tangle of hair off his brow. “Why it matters to me.”
“It’s my job, Marcus. Obviously I need the money; I’m not independently wealthy. I have to play the game to get the tips they give me.”
Marcus’s eyes turned dark. “And when you kissed me?”
