“What? Our fucking?” Spencer’s lip curled. “Or leaving me like I was some trick you couldn’t wait to get away from? Even for you, that was cold.”
“You’re right. I made a mistake. And I’m sorry.”
Spencer’s eyes flashed as he stepped forward.
In the courtroom, he was the Wolfman—powerful and in control. Not now. Not with Spencer standing there, hair gilded by sunlight, a knowing half smile on his lips. Here was everything he feared, desired, and hoped for, right in front of him, and Wolf remained frozen in place.
“You still haven’t answered me. What mistake? Were you sorry we fucked? Or did you run away because you were afraid to admit how much you liked it? Don’t you remember how it felt?”
So close now that they almost touched…and Wolf yearned for that skin-on-skin contact. He remembered. Their soft cries of pleasure. The impossible, incredible heat. That complete and utter loss of control.
His hands balled into fists. Remember? The problem was he couldn’t forget.
“Of course I do. But…it shouldn’t have happened.”
“Look me in the eyes, Wolf. Tell me that to my face.”
Wolf dragged his gaze from studying the sand at their feet. He looked at Spencer, every instinct inside him screaming to drag him to his room and make him beg, to make love to him until they both couldn’t walk, but he pushed him away.
“It was a mistake. It was wrong. It can’t happen again. Happy now?” Wolf snarled.
Insufferably cool, Spencer smirked. “Oh, yeah. I’m happy. Because now I know I was right about you. Go ahead and bury yourself in your work. But when you pick your head up and look around in ten years, don’t think I’ll still be there.”
Breathing hard, Wolf stomped away.
***
Damn, he was tired.
A month after the wedding, Wolf had almost forgotten what the sun looked like. He swung himself out of the car service and slammed the door behind him, already anticipating the bottle of Scotch he had waiting for him.
“Good night, Mr. Wolf.” The driver spoke to him through the open passenger-door window, and Wolf raised a hand in response.
“G’night, Patrick. Get home safe.”
He trudged up the path to his apartment building, a faint smile on his lips as the door opened for him. The young concierge greeted him as he passed by.
“Evening, Mr. Wolf. Pretty late tonight, even for you.”
“The fun never ends, Sam. Remember that when you’re going to law school next year.”
Sam worked night shift as a doorman and went to college during the day. When Wolf had discovered that Sam was supporting his mother and younger sister after his father had been killed in one of those drive-by shootings that always seemed to get the person they weren’t targeting, Wolf had helped him out. Sam had been accepted to Fordham Law, and one of the partners at Wolf’s firm, an alum of Fordham Law, had helped Sam secure a scholarship and work-study. Wolf was certain a job awaited Sam at their firm when he graduated.
Sam grinned. “I know you don’t mean it. You love the work.”
“Oh, yeah. Love it.” His smile grew thin. “Any packages for me?”
“Nothing tonight.”
“Okay. Have a good night, then.”
He rolled his shoulders as he strode toward the elevators. Maybe a steam shower before the Scotch would be even better. He could already feel the heat against his tired back and shoulders. The prospect of getting up at five a.m. to hit the gym was even less appealing than usual, but Wolf was loath to deviate from his routine. It was the only way to keep himself on track. He needed the sameness and order; otherwise chaos threatened.
The elevator doors slid open, and his jaw dropped. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Eyes bright, Spencer stumbled out and slung an arm around his neck. Wolf almost choked from the smell of liquor.
“Wolfie, baby. How the hell are you?” A wicked smile tipped up his lips.
