1
Caleb
The heavy double doors of Circuit Rush nightclub closed behind Caleb with finality, shutting out the rest of the world. Throbbing bass infiltrated his chest and bounced rib to rib, then swung lower into his gut, filling him with tingling, abundant excitement.
Home.
And here, somewhere in the throng of nameless faces, was the one who made coming home worth it.
Sweeping moonflower lights bathed Caleb in their speckled glow as he made his way across the floor, glinting in his hair like diamonds plunged in the midnight sea. Clubgoers moved around him, offshore waves caught in a storm, their energy frantic, yet cohesive. Caleb knew the whims of the mob by now—understood how they moved, and why. He’d been part of their world before, and hell knew that before long, he’d be part of it again. The call of the weekend plucked at his soul like a siren’s song, and with so much to forget, Caleb was usually eager to open his ears and let it into his heart.
Tonight, however, was different.
Tonight, his heart was too full to be swayed by meaningless indulgence.
Eager to find the man he was looking for, Caleb took his phone from his pocket once he reached the center of the dance floor and sent a one-word text.Marco.
Polo. By the back bar.
Caleb lifted his head, scanning the crowd between him and the bar. Sweeping, colorful lights obfuscated his view, so Caleb moved in the direction he’d been told, searching.
Nothing.
Marco.
Polo. Head left.
To the left was the back wall and—
Caleb narrowed his eyes, then smirked. Bingo. There, hidden in the shadows and forgotten thanks to the allure of the dance floor, was a corridor. If it hadn’t been for the lackluster EXIT sign glowing a dull red to mark its existence, Caleb never would have seen it.
Marco,Caleb wrote, already on the move. He slipped into the shadows and made his way into the corridor, unable to keep the grin from his face.
Polo. That’s all I’m giving you.
It was all Caleb needed. At the end of the dimly lit corridor, he caught a glimpse of someone rounding the corner—just a flash of fabric, not enough to see who it belonged to. Still, the excitement cloistered in his gut amplified, and he cut down the hall at a near run, the thrill of the chase burning in his veins. A little farther. Just a little farther…
Caleb rounded the corner and almost smacked face-first into his best friend, Everett Langston.
Everett leaned against the wall, one arm crossed loosely over his chest, the other bent in front of him, positioned so that he could see the screen of his cell phone. The thin material of his dark-gray dress shirt was stretched taut over his pecs and biceps, and the line of pearly white buttons down the shirt’s middle glinted in the low light. When Caleb skidded to a stop, Everett lifted his chin and put the phone away, showing off the boxy angles of his jaw and the sculpted contours of his cheeks. Stubble shaded his skin, a dark contrast against his honey-blond hair. His eyes, usually the color of a clear Tuscan sky, looked moody and gray tonight. They burned with mischievous intent.
Fuck, was he beautiful.
Caleb, heart racing the same way it had when, at sixteen years old, he’d noticed Everett as more than a friend for the first time, stepped forward to close some of the space between them. Everett didn’t hesitate—he reached out and grabbed a fistful of Caleb’s shirt, tugging him close. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Caleb grinned and tilted his head to the side. “Weird, isn’t it?”
Then, gruffly, he tangled his fingers in Everett’s hair and crushed their lips together.
The kiss wasn’t gentle—it never was. It made demands that Caleb knew Everett would never acquiesce to, but that Caleb wished he might.
Submit. Give yourself to me. Let me own you.
In Caleb’s favorite fantasy, Everett would moan into his mouth when kissed like that, then melt beneath Caleb’s hands like butter. He’d open that pretty mouth of his and let Caleb inside, and they’d lose track of time and space while lost to their shared passion. Caleb would screw Everett against the wall, barely out of sight of the dance floor, and once they’d both come, Caleb would take Everett home and fuck him until he couldn’t stay hard. But fantasies were fantasies for a reason—from the first time they’d fallen into bed together, Everett had made it clear that he wasn’t the kind who would roll over and let Caleb do what he wanted.
Everett was the kind who fought back.
As Caleb deepened the kiss, wrenching Everett’s lips open to dominate his mouth, Everett twisted his handful of Caleb’s shirt, putting pressure around Caleb’s neck and forcing him closer. Caleb grunted and grabbed Everett’s wrist out of necessity, squeezing until Everett broke his hold, then pinning his hand above his head. With the fistful of hair he still had a grip on, he tugged Everett’s head to the side, breaking their kiss.
