Ross and I both laughed as I led him out the front door of Sinful. We got a taxi home. I considered telling him about the journalist but thought better of it. He was already worried about the media and what people thought of him, and I didn’t want to make it worse. It didn’t matter what we did; for a few years at least the media would try to get the scoop, and that was something I could handle. Ross needed to take back his life.
By the time we got home we were all over each other in the elevator, much to a fellow rider’s disgust. But he didn’t say anything—men like him never had the balls—and by the time we were falling out the doors of the elevator at our floor, we were laughing.
“I didn’t know if he wanted to yell at us or join in on the action.” I snickered as I jammed the key into the lock and opened my front door.
Ross rolled his eyes and chortled as we stumbled inside. Slamming the door closed, I crooked my finger at him. “Come here, Pookie. Get on your knees for your Mister.”
His cheeks flushed and he grinned, falling to the floor and staring up at me in a way that almost made me want to get him kneepads and keep him that way forever.
“Do you want to make your Mister happy? Suck my cock,” I growled.
“Please don’t,” a familiar voice said, sobering me in the worst way possible. The living room lights turned on, and I stared in horror at my dad sitting on the couch. Papa stood by the light switch, an overly amused smile on his lips. It was Dad who hit the final embarrassing nail in the coffin.
“Mister? Have you legally changed your given name and not told your own parents in the time you haven’t called us?”
“Oh fuck,” I muttered.
I was screwed.
17
Ross
“We obviously didn’t thinkour surprise through very well,” a man said, followed by a far too amused chuckle.
This was exactly like the cops busting in on Lane and me in the stairwell. One second we were alone, each other’s entire universe, and the next—boom!—everything inside of me was on display for the world to see. Things were a little different between Lane and me now, and I felt entirely raw and exposed by the intrusion on this part of our lives. My heart hammered. I fought down panic as I rocketed to my feet like a shark was about to burst through the floorboards and bite my ass, and then spun to face the men, who I assumed—based on Lane’s less than extraordinary reaction—he knew.
Lane had a pinched expression that appeared mildly irked rather than anything else. I tried to talk my heart out of the back of my throat, but it insisted we were about to die, and I was forced to swallow it down where it belonged.
“Fuck. Who are they?” I asked, gesturing at our very uninvited visitors and not bothering to keep my voice down.
“Parents,” he murmured. I let out a shaky breath and focused my attention across the room at the man standing by the light switch on the wall near the kitchen. The rich scent of coffee lingered on the air, which probably meant they’d been here for a while and I likely would have noticed the aroma—if I hadn’t been hellbent on getting fucked by my Mister. There were two mugs on the coffee table, so they definitely felt at home here. The man by the light switch was about Lane’s height and had a nice build but wasn’t overly muscled. His mouth sort of reminded me of Lane’s. I could tell he was a good deal older than me, but not exactly by how much—maybe getting close to the point of retirement.
The other man sitting on the couch with his ankle over his knee and his arms spread out like he owned the place had to be closer to my age, maybe in his late forties or early fifties. His dark hair was graying near his temples and he had a dusting of silver in his short beard.
He also acted like he’d seen piles of dogshit he appreciated more than me, so this was alreadygoing well.
“Which one had you?” I asked, and let out a nervous laugh at about the same time I wanted to open the door and slam my head in it. I’d worked enough rooms to know when I was bombing. My attempt at humor hung awkwardly out there stinking up the atmosphere, and I was seriously considering faking my death when the man near the kitchen snorted and then chuckled. I couldn’t relax even though Lane rolled his eyes and elbowed me. I bumped his hand, and he brushed his fingertips over my fist, but there was no way I could unclench. I hadn’t realized how much I’d counted on our home being a safe haven until it was invaded.
Lane tilted his chin and caught my eye with a soft smile that had me calming down. “When I was five my papa told me they found me under a seashell near the ocean and brought me home. So, while neither of them had me, I’d say he was the most nurturing. He’s a doctor.” Lane cast that smile across the room to include his papa in his humor.
“Yeah, well, that was a lot easier than explaining surrogacy,” the man by the kitchen said, so he must be the papa. He started toward the couch to join the other man, who must be his husband. “Trust me, kiddo, with the money we spent, you were definitely wanted.”
Lane sighed and shuffled closer to them, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I never questioned it.”
I cut a quick look at my Mister, searching for any direction from him that he might want to give me. I had no idea how to play this. He had never talked about his parents much that I could remember, and beyond me telling him my dad couldn’t have me around right now, I didn’t think we’d talked much about my family, either. We were sort of cocooned here, and I hated this intrusion.
Anger that probably would get me into trouble with my Mister started to bubble in me. I didn’t like that two people I didn’t know from bupkis could just pop into the place I called home whenever they wanted, especially after what I’d been through lately with the public, reporters, and everyone else who had an opinion on me in New Gothenburg.
Shit, do they know I live here?
I glanced at Lane again, but he seemed bemused as he flicked his gaze between his parents, his cheeks steadily pinking in a way I’d only ever made happen by accident and had almost always involved sex. I couldn’t handle this.
“Well, I’ll leave you to catch up.” I turned back toward the door. Yeah, I was a little buzzed right now, but I’d rather catch a snooze under a park bench than cause my Mister problems with his family. My mind spun off into twelve different directions and I heaved a deep breath. No, I didn’t want him to have the same issues I was having with my entire life.
“I’m not pretending in my own home.” Lane’s jaw stood out before he grabbed my hand, physically moved me back around, and then dragged me closer to the men staring at me like I was an interesting new species of disease-ridden rodent. “Dad, Papa—”
Panic had me jerking Lane back a few steps, and he turned toward me to widen his eyes in my direction. I leaned close to whisper, “I won’t be mad if you want me to ditch tonight. I get it. I’m not someone to take home right now. Fuck, maybe not ever.”
