“Fuck, okay,” I grumbled, then walked him toward the nearest wall and propped his shoulders against it. Peter laughed and it was fucking beautiful. He dropped his head back and stared at me from under heavy eyelids as I pistoned into him, the tight heat of his body and the way he nodded in encouragement sending me over the edge. I stared into his eyes as my cock spasmed and sharp stabs of bliss clenched my gut. I pulled him down tight on my body, and he whimpered as I pumped my cum deep into him. When I was done, I kissed him, fucking my tongue into his mouth. By the time I backed off, his lips were deep pink and slightly swollen—and I never wanted to see them any other way.
“You’re beautiful,” I whispered.
He shivered in my arms and swallowed hard. “I’m going to say it.”
“So? Say it,” I said with a laugh.
“I love you. You can’t stop doing this.”
“Fucking you against the wall?”
He smacked my shoulder and smiled. “Acting like I’m worth this effort.”
“Oh fuck, Peter. You’re worth the world.” I kissed him.
He tapped my shoulder, and I already understood what he needed. I had to put him down. I moved, carried him into our room, and laid him on the bed as gently as I could. He rolled his eyes, but I didn’t care. He might fight it every step of the way, but he’d finally told me how much he appreciated the care I took with him, and I’d make sure he had it whether he ever told me he wanted it again or not.
18
Peter
Twig and Southpawwere at it again. They were doing better than they had been when I’d first met them last month, and about a week ago I’d been shocked when the gym owner—an energetic kid of about twenty-five with blond curls and cute freckles splashed across his nose, named Grady Prayer, who had inherited the place from his retired grandad—asked me if I’d like a job as the gym’s trainer. There were about ten people who’d noticed me doing not much of anything except putting Southpaw, Twiggy, and Drew through the wringer, and they’d wanted a piece.
I’d said yes. The job was the fireworks at the party I was having for myself. This morning I’d passed my diploma equivalency test, and this coming Friday I would have my first paycheck. It felt damned good to be contributing something because while Drew might not ask me for anything, money was tight with him back in school, and I could definitely bring in more cash working than on disability. I was starting to feel more like myself again… only I’d never met this version of me. I found myself smiling as Twiggy let his hands fall to his sides after Southpaw landed a solid jab to his right cheek.
“Keep your hands up!”
Twiggy jumped into action and scuttled away as Southpaw advanced. Mr. Southpaw, King of Cheap Shots, would be a titan if he ever learned how to coordinate his body. He moved like someone who’d had a growth spurt and hadn’t figured out his balance yet. “You have a left and a right hand,” I yelled, and both boys nodded.
My surgery was coming up in a month because that was the soonest they could schedule it. I couldn’t wait to train with all the guys here. I wanted to get familiar with them before I had to take the time off to heal. Figuring out what type of training hell to put them through would keep a smile on my face while I rested.
By the time Friday rolled around, I’d had a great week. All the fellas were friendly and wanted to know what I had to say about the way they moved in the ring, and even though I couldn’t do all the exercises myself, they were hungry to know how to fire up their bodies and get shipshape. Barking orders and having them followed was addicting, and I could see myself happy at this job. Grady had even said there were a few more people interested, and when I’d started my shift, he’d handed me an envelope of cash.
“What’s this? I thought you were cutting me a check,” I’d asked as I’d flipped through the envelope, counting about two hundred bucks.
“I am. They’re your tips.” He’d winked down at me, given me a cocky salute, and headed back out the front door. He didn’t hang out much if he could help it, preferring to hire people to keep track of the business. Seemed stupid, but I couldn’t complain.
By the next Friday, I was starting to get comfortable at the job. I nodded and waved at people when I came into the building, and no one was an asshole back—that was about all I needed from people to get by these days.
That morning I spent a few hours working with a couple of regulars who had their eye on an illegal fight in New Gothenburg—I’d heard them whispering about it and the old thrill had shot through my veins. I’d thought about asking them the date and location, but in the end let it go.
I was on a break at the front desk that no one really used for anything much, other than taking up space near the entrance, munching on a bag of pecans, when the solid metal door opened. I glanced up and nearly choked. I had to force myself to swallow.
Maybe I’m wrong.
Plenty of men were tall and built like a brick shithouse. Hell, that described Drew to a tee. It wasn’t rare. But I studied this stranger’s eyes, and his irises were a beautiful, cold metallic color trapped between blue and gray. Recognition flashed coldly through my body and my stomach jerked as if someone had sunk a hook in it and pulled. A tattoo flashed on the man’s thick left bicep, peeking out from under the sleeve of his black T-shirt. If I had to bet, I’d guess the yellow lettering on a field of red was the bottom half of anAS. This man was older and more muscular than when I’d known him—hell, I’d been half convinced he was dead or in prison—but no. It had to be Trevor. He hoisted the gym bag he had with him higher on his shoulder. That smile was the same when he flashed it at me. He was still handsome.
“Are you a member?” I called after him.
He pulled a card out of his pocket and lifted it in the air without slowing down, heading toward the locker room. I couldn’t tell if it was actually a members’ card or not.
Will I never get away from all this?I stared after him and couldn’t make myself move for far too long. I sat there until he came out of the locker room and went to one of the treadmills to start running.
I took out my phone. Drew made me get one before I started working, and I was thankful.
Can you come to the gym when you get home? No rush.
Drew sent me back a string of silly emojis—hearts and kissy faces and a thumbs-up. I rolled my eyes but let myself smile. I glared over at Trevor. Eventually another big man I didn’t know strolled in and made his way over to talk to Trevor. They both geared up, wrapping their wrists and sliding on boxing gloves. Uneasily I kept tabs on them as they climbed into the ring.
