“Yeah. Trying to keep ahead of all the reading.”
“Mm. I get it.” Spencer took a step closer. “Don’t you get tired of it? You’re in there all night. You must need a release every now and then.”
Goose bumps gathered on his skin, and his heart began to pound. Wolf licked his lips. “I’m okay.”
“I think you’re better than okay. Maybe we could relax together.” Spencer rested his hands on his shoulders. “You’re so tense. I could give you a massage.” He began a slow, sensual rub. “Doesn’t that feel good?”
Wolf almost moaned as everything he’d kept under wraps threatened to explode. He wanted to throw Spencer on the couch, rip off his boxers, and pound into him. His knees trembled at the thought of being inside Spencer’s body.
And yet…it would be only this one time, and Spencer would move on, leaving Wolf alone. Only hours earlier, Spencer had said he didn’t want anything more than one night. For the next four years, Wolf would have to sit and listen to Spencer talk about all the guys he’d slept with, and Wolf knew—he justknew—he wouldn’t be able to deal with it, because one time with Spencer wouldn’t be enough to satisfy the hunger gnawing through him.
All through high school, he’d struggled to understand why sex seemed so important. Then Spencer blew into his world, unleashing all his hidden desires, wants, and needs, and Wolf cursed himself that the one man he wanted for his own was the one he couldn’t have.
He twisted out from under Spencer’s hands. “I’m fine. Going to brush my teeth and go to bed. Early class tomorrow. Night.” He raced away and slammed the bathroom door behind him. He rested against it, panting from the effort, hoping Spencer wouldn’t follow him.
Wishing he would.
Shaking that crazy thought out of his head, Wolf knew once and for all, he needed to keep Spencer at arm’s length. They could never be anything more than friends.
Chapter One
Milan, Italy
4 years ago
He must be drunk.
Spencer Hawkins did the unthinkable and set his champagne glass on the bar without taking a sip. He rubbed his eyes, figuring he was seeing things, as he’d spent the past four hours staring at male models parading down runways in various forms of dress and undress, and after a while they all blended together. But when he blinked and stared hard, the man sitting in the hotel bar hadn’t changed.
Nope. Still him.
What the hell was he doing here? And more specifically, why had he downed a double Scotch in the time it had taken Spencer to walk over to him?
“Wolfie? Is that really you?” He rested a hand on his friend’s back and winced at the hard-as-steel muscles. “Damn, you’re tight.”
His friend raised his gaze from the tumbler in his hand, and Spencer flinched at the absolute devastation in his eyes.
“Why’re you here, Spencer?”
“Isn’t that my question? You know it’s Fashion Week. I texted you guys that I’d be out of the country.” He tried to lighten the mood. “If you missed me that much, you didn’t have to fly halfway around the world to see me. I’m available to FaceTime for your late-night pleasure.”
Wolf didn’t return his smile, instead raising his glass to the bartender. “Another double on the rocks, please.”
Whoa.Wolf did not get drunk.
“What’s wrong? And whatever it is, I doubt you’ll be able to solve it if you’re stinking drunk.”
That got a laugh out of his best friend, but it was a sound Spencer hoped to never hear again. It tore out of Wolf like a cry for help.
“I’m far from drunk, unfortunately, but thank you for your concern. You can go back to whatever or whomever it was you were doing.”
The bartender set the drink before Wolf, along with a flute of champagne. “You left this, so I got you a fresh one.”
Ignoring the drink, Spencer slid into the seat next to Wolf. “You think I’m going to leave you sitting here looking like you want to punch a hole through the wall while I go make small talk over hors d’oeuvres? You’re my friend.”
The glass trembled on its way to Wolf’s lips, and he set it aside without taking another sip. “I came here to talk to a witness who left the US instead of coming to talk to me. He was afraid for his family because they’d received threats. And because it’s a case involving organized crime, I tried to reassure them they’d have protection—them and their two young children. But he either didn’t believe me or got spooked. All I know is, he failed to show for his interview two days ago.”
Spencer remained quiet. It was highly unusual for Wolf to talk so freely about his cases, especially with him. All Spencer knew of his work was that Wolf had gotten a job out of law school at the Manhattan DA’s office, where he dealt with what they all believed were extremely dangerous cases. Wolf had refused to say, claiming the less they knew the better. Years earlier, he’d left the DA for a private criminal-defense practice, but the secrecy around most of his cases remained the same. Since they’d first met in college, Wolf had been the serious one in their group, rarely going out to party, never getting drunk, no matter how much they pleaded with him. Almost always in control.
