“Yeah. So.” Rhett’s voice cracked. He swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at Troy or me. “Troy’s definitely bi. And it’s possible I’m bi, too.”
Then he turned and sprinted toward his bedroom, the door slamming behind him with finality.
Troy remained by the island, looking a little dazed, though there was a definite smugness playing at the corners of his mouth. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, as if savoring Rhett’s taste.
“Huh,” he said. “Interesting.”
“I have no idea why I came over here,” I said, blinking slowly.
Troy grinned. “Me either, but you can come over here and get Rhett to kiss me any time you like, sweet girl.”
“Yeah, I’d better go,” I yelped. I made it back to my apartment on autopilot, closed the door behind me, and leaned against it, my whole body thrumming. My heart pounded in my ears as the image of them kissing played on repeat in my mind—the way Rhett had yielded, the way Troy had taken control, the obvious hunger between them.
Oh crap.
Chapter 5
Rhett
Ithadbeenthreedays since Troy’s kiss introduced me to a new facet of my sexuality, and I was desperate to find out more. I mean, was I attracted to all guys? Or was it something about Troy?
If all guys, how had I not noticed? I mean, sure, I noticed if guys were hot, but I’d assumed everyone did, because we all have eyes.
But Troy didn’t have answers to my questions. In fact, Troy had completely avoided talking about it. He was acting like nothing had happened. Hell, he hadn’t even offered to suck my dick, when apparently that was something he participated in with some regularity.
I knew for a fact that I was a good kisser, so it couldn’t be that. Maybe I’d had bad breath or something? Or maybe he was crazy about me and holding back because it might destroy our friendship. I glanced at Troy, who was chatting with the photographer instead of staring at my ass. Bummer.
If I’d remembered the photoshoot for the calendar was today, I could have gone online and researched how to stop staring at your best friend’s body like a thirsty slut. I did my best to avoid eye contact with his abs, but his glistening brown skin kept invading my peripheral vision. His abs gleamed under the studio lights, slick with body oil that someone had applied with way too much enthusiasm.
Each muscle was defined, cut so deep that it was giving me all kinds of filthy daydreams about licking a creamy load off him. He adjusted his stance, firefighter pants riding low on his hips.
I’d never noticed Troy’s body with more than a passing acknowledgment of his hotness. And yeah, I’d always known he was handsome, but in an “I’m glad he’s my best friend because he makes a sexy wingman” way, not in a “I’m three seconds from licking his abs” way. Now my tongue was itching to trace every contour.
Was ab licking on the table between guys? Women did it to me, sometimes, so it seemed like a reasonable assumption. The small tabby kitten in his arms mewed and batted at his chest with tiny paws. I wanted to be that kitten.
Whoever had decided to pair shelter animals with firefighters as a double fundraiser for the shelter and the fallen firefighters’ fund was a fucking evil genius. We would sell so many calendars. I was considering buying some myself, in case Troy never followed up on that kiss and this was all I ever got.
This was bad. This was very, very bad. Four days ago, I’d been crushing on a friend’s little sister like a normal straight guy. Out of respect for Ryker, I’d even kept my crush on Aimee strictly PG-13. I’d put her on an impossible pedestal, where I admired her brilliant mind and gorgeous smile from afar. After all, she was way out of my league.
But ever since she’d suggested that kiss, my lust-addled brain kept pulling up images of Aimee doing filthy things.
Like whether she’d be into helping me with the ab licking.
Shit, and now I was thinking about making out with Aimee around Troy’s cock. What was happening to me?
“Donovan, you’re up next,” the Captain called, startling me badly enough that I jumped and knocked over a chair. “Start getting oiled up. This fundraiser had better be worth it, because I never want to say that sentence again.”
I blinked, tearing my gaze away from Troy and the photographer fawning over him. “Right. Yep. Oil. Got it.”
The makeup lady approached with a bottle and a determined expression. I yanked my shirt over my head, telling myself toflirt with her instead of leering at Troy’s perfect body fifteen feet away.
“Dude, you look like you’re about to pass out,” Doug, our lieutenant, said as he passed by. “Performance anxiety?”
“Ha! As if,” I quipped automatically, flexing my biceps in an exaggerated bodybuilder pose. “I’m calculating how much these guns are gonna increase calendar sales. I’m angling for the cover shot, because you know folks will be tripping over themselves to see this.” I pointed at my stomach and did a little ab roll.
Somewhere just outside my peripheral vision (thank fuck), Troy made a strange, strangled sound. Maybe the kitten had gotten him good with her prickly little claws.
Doug rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. Good. No one needed to know I was having an existential crisis. It shouldn’t be obvious that I couldn’t stop thinking about Troy’s mouth on mine, his hands in my hair, the way he’d grabbed my ass and hauled my body against his so I felt every inch of his—
