I’d scrubbed the bathroom before I’d left for training that morning and the kitchen last night after I’d sent Ezra my address. Luckily, I’d deep cleaned the living room on Wednesday night out of sheer fucking frustration because my dick was almost sore from how much I’d wanked over thoughts of Ezra folding me in half on the sofa.
Screw it, the skirting boards could wait. If Ezra was looking that closely at them, then something was really fucking wrong.
Shaking my head, I climbed to my feet from where I’d been kneeling on the carpet and looked at myself in the long mirror beside my wardrobes. I’d showered quickly after training and then come home and given myself a proper clean with myfavourite shea and coconut body scrub and done my skincare—at least a version of it. If I’d have had time, I’d have done a face mask and everything, but I didn’t fancy Ezra turning up while I was wearing it.
It wouldn’t exactly be a turn-on.
The shorts I was wearing, though? Fuck, if Ezra didn’t take one look at me and immediately get hard, then I’d failed. The pants underneath them were cute too, skintight and bright blue, patterned with doughnuts covered in sprinkles and dripping icing. Not only did they make my butt look edible, but they made my dick stand out too. And they highlighted how muscular my thighs were as well.
Ezra was going to fucking die. And if he didn’t, I was going to throw a tantrum because how dare he not think my butt was killer?
Okay, so maybe I was gay. Because I’d never, in the whole history of my life, thought anything like this when I’d been getting ready to go out with a woman. I mean, I’d cared about my appearance, but never tothislevel.
And I’d never considered cleaning my skirting boards for a woman either.
I grabbed my phone and took a few pictures of my arse, debating sending them to Charlie for an opinion and hoping he’d gas me up. But then he’d ask who I was getting ready for and why I was so focused on my butt, and I didn’t have time for that conversation now.
We might have to have it soon, though, because there was a chance I’d need someone to talk to about all this shit.
Except… fuck, he was getting ready to propose to Amanda. I doubted he’d have time for my bullshit when he was busy trying to figure out how to pop the question without vomiting.
I’d keep the photos for me instead.
And maybe to tease Ezra with later. Just as a reminder of how fucking hot I looked.
A voice tried to nudge at the back of my mind, whispering that this was wrong. That I shouldn’t want Ezra’s attention. That I should be going out and pulling the hottest girl I could find.
But I’d never been much good at that, despite what I told everyone. I’d very rarely gotten lucky. And most of the time I’d been glad I’d failed… even though I wasn’t supposed to feel that way. That was where the confusion had come from. Because I was supposed towantthat fuckboy lifestyle and spend half my time fantasising about pussy.
I didn’t, though.
And that had convinced me there was something wrong with me. But West, and all the other guys at the club who’d come out, had made me realise there were other options. And they weren’t bad. They just weren’t the narrative I’d been forcefully spoon-fed.
There was a sharp knock at the door and I jumped.
Fuck, I needed to get out of my head.
Sliding my phone into the back pocket of my shorts, I checked my hair in the mirror and smoothed out my moustache before walking out of the room and towards the front door. Taking a calming breath, I pulled the door open and smiled, hoping I looked like I hadn’t been freaking out.
“Hey,” Ezra said, offering me a smile that made my stomach flip and my dick perk up. He was wearing a pair of dark blue suit trousers with a brown belt and a white shirt that was open at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to reveal a nice-looking watch on his left wrist. He looked like the amalgamation of every walking fantasy I’d had of him the last ten days.
I was surprised I hadn’t immediately creamed my pants.
“Hey to you too,” I said as I stepped back to let him in, wondering if I needed to ask him to take his shoes off. I mean, Icould hoover the floor again and it wasn’t like it had rained, so he wouldn’t be tracking mud into the cream carpet. But still, would it be weird if I asked anyway?
“Don’t worry, I’ll take them off,” Ezra said, sliding his loafers off and putting them neatly next to my Asics. “You looked very concerned.”
“No, it’s fine, I?—”
“Don’t lie,” Ezra said teasingly, stepping into my personal space and crowding me against the wall. “I’m guessing you cleaned, and you don’t want me traipsing dirt through?”
“Something like that.” I swallowed. It was such a strange thing for me to focus on, but it’d been all I could think about as soon as he walked in the door.
“Are you nervous?”
“A little bit,” I said, because now wasn’t the time for me to try lying. Not if I wanted Ezra to fuck me.
Besides, I was a shit liar anyway. He’d spot it a mile off and the idea of lying to him made me weirdly uncomfortable.
