“Yeah. Who is he?”
“That’s Billy Kemp, the bartender. Kind of a loser. We’re not sure if he’s involved or just a dupe, caught up in what’s going on.” Win’s brows drew together. “Why’re you asking? Do you know him?”
Spencer stared into his empty glass. “Not at all. He’s just my father.”
Chapter Ten
Damn, he felt like shit for not showing up to Elliot and Win’s house. He’d gone as far as getting dressed, and his keys were in hand when he’d happened to glance at the picture he kept on his bedroom dresser.
College graduation.
Instead of walking out the door, he’d picked up the picture and studied the faces.
The four of them in the photo taken by Elliot’s parents right after the ceremony. Him, serious as always, standing next to a wide-eyed Chess, who clutched his diploma in a death grip. Elliot, sad because he’d confessed he was going to miss them all living together. Only Spencer smiled, his fist up in the air, his blond, wavy hair brushing his shoulders. Wolf remembered him mugging for the camera, insisting on taking a picture separately with each of them. For their picture, Spencer had grabbed him around the neck and kissed him.
For his first kiss, it was one he’d never forget.
It was then that he realized—it wasn’t that he didn’t like sex or being touched—he liked the feel of Spencer and how their bodies fit together perfectly. Even more, he liked his lips on his cheek and how he smelled, so warm and bright and alive.
His physical reaction had been instantaneous, and embarrassed at how badly he wanted more from Spencer, he’d pushed him away. Only Spencer seemed to flip that switch in him, and it freaked him out.
Why Spencer? Why the one man who had no rules when it came to sex? “The more the merrier” had been his motto, and at school, Wolf would pretend to be studying while listening to Spencer’s nightly recap of his sexploits. The words on the page before him would blur, and he’d sit and wonder what Spencer’s hands would feel like on him. What would it be like to kiss him? Would his lips be hot and firm, or soft and gentle?
But Spencer insisted he was only about fun and that he wasn’t interested in being with one person. Unable to deal with the thought of being with Spencer, then seeing him with other men, Wolf made the decision that he’d be better off alone.
And now…how could hestillbe turned-on by Spencer? It seemed impossible that after so many years, that man…that silly, flirtatious, irreverent man would be the one to wake him up. Wolf didn’t want that. He liked being dead inside. It meant he couldn’t feel.
For a full hour he’d paced his bedroom before sitting on the bed, staring at the floor. It shouldn’t be so fucking hard to go to a barbecue and make small talk. He could avoid Spencer—most likely he’d be busy talking about the success of his show, still basking in the afterglow of his accomplishment.
As well he should.
Wolf had never been so proud of anyone. Seeing Spencer standing on that runway with the spotlight on his golden head, smiling brightly, and accepting the applause, Wolf knew it was everything his friend had worked so hard to achieve. A big FU to his father, who hadn’t the brains to accept and love a son who followed his own path. A beautiful moment for his mother, who’d given him all the love.
He remembered the other night and how Spencer had come upon him and Anthony at the right time. Still suffering the sting of that humiliation, Wolf cringed, imagining Spencer watching Anthony kiss and fondle him. Even now his stomach turned at the thought. And yet minutes after, when it was Spencer in front of him, touching him, Wolf’s bones had melted to butter, and he’d stood paralyzed by desire and fear.
I can’t fucking do this. Not today.
While it bothered him that Elliot would be disappointed, he couldn’t face Spencer. The events of the previous days—the glimpse of his father after so many years, coupled with his unresolved feelings and confusing emotional response to Spencer every time they talked—crashed down on him.
I can’t spend an afternoon with him grinning and poking at me.
He pulled out his phone and sent a text:An emergency at work. Sorry. I’ll make it up to you.
He picked up his laptop, put his keys and phone in his pocket, and headed out to his office. He felt the buzz of several texts, and after getting in a car, glanced at them.
Elliot: Funny, I’m not surprised. I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.
Chess: We’ll miss you. Maybe dinner next week?
He didn’t deserve them. Wolf knew he was shit, but he held on to the thread of their friendship because these men were the only people in his life who kept him wanting to get up in the morning. He’d allowed the rage and pain of his father’s crimes to consume him to the point where it was all he had, and unhealthy as he knew that was, it fueled his dedication to his work. The only time he’d let go was that one night in Milan.
The one night he’d never forgotten. It played through his mind like a symphony, the music of their bodies moving with precision. Spencer’s lips and hands over his skin, lightly at first, then rough and hard, leaving him gasping and aching for more of…everything.
“You want me?” Spencer’s breath was hot on his cheek, and Wolf shuddered. “Say it. I need to hear it.”
“Yes, dammit. I want you. Now.”
He escaped by closing off his mind and allowing himself to simply feel. The hunger to be inside Spencer grew, and once there, he craved more. Wolf had never known what passion looked like until he watched Spencer climax under him. When Wolf blew apart, the loss of control terrified him, and while Spencer slept, Wolf had remained awake, running over in his mind every fiery touch, every heart-stopping kiss. Nothing would ever be the same for him, and passion mingled with the pain of knowing that for Spencer, it was simply another man, another night.
