“Answer the question.”
“Which question?”
“Don’t be evasive. Coy just makes you look stupid.”
“If you’re talking about Parker, then no, I did not tell him about us. Why?”
“Because he confronted me on the firing range and told me you’re a great guy.”
“I am a great guy. Do you not agree?”
He growled, shoving his hands into his hair as he stalked away. I waited for him to chew my ass for being evasive again. When several moments had passed, I sighed. “Good to know you don’t agree.”
“I agree. You are a great guy, but why would he pull me aside to tell me that?”
“I don’t know. He was downstairs. We could’ve easily asked him.”
That got his attention. He spun his eyes so intensely it felt as if he were pinning me to the wall with them. “Tell me you’re fucking joking.”
Shaking my head while taking a deep breath, I approached him. “Xander…” I said, my hands sliding up his arms, over his shoulders, to cup his neck. My thumbs lifted his chin so his eyes would meet mine.
“Don’t placate me…”
“I’m not. I promise. To answer your question, I don’t know why Parker pulled you aside. Did he say anything else?”
“He told me I could act like I didn’t know what he was talking about, but it didn’t change the truth.”
“Anything else?
“I asked if he pimped out all his boyfriends and if he was trying to get us caught?”
I laughed in his face. There was no containing it.
He rolled his eyes, and a bashful smile tugged at his lips. “It’s not fucking funny.”
“It kinda is. Anything else I need to know?”
More eye rolling.
“He said something to the effect of no, he was just trying to get me to pull my head out of my ass, and I asked if he was saying the two of you aren’t together, to which he replied my issue was a non-issue.”
Smiling, I leaned down, taking his lips with mine. Soft, sweet kisses, nothing overly sexual. I missed this—kissing him. I wanted to tell him that, but it would only freak him out, so I bit my tongue, dropped my forehead against his, and said, “He’s right, it is a non-issue.”
“So you’re saying…
“I’m saying that Parker Holt and I are friends. Have we screwed around? Yes. For two highly sexual gay guys living inside a closet, not entirely of our own making. There are timeswhen we both have needs, and the best way to get those met is with each other.”
“So you guys are together?”
The question reminded me of his age. I wasn’t old by any means, but a closeted twenty-year-old who’d spent the last two years in a BUD/S pipeline might as well be a virgin. I should walk away, but he spun me up like no other, and I couldn’t fathom giving that up unless forced to do so.
Smiling softly, I explained, “No, we are not together. We are, however, best friends who take advantage of the resources at our disposal.”
He exhaled laughter, and I sighed in relief. “So…dinner?”
The breathy amusement turned to full-scale hilarity that forced his head back on his shoulders. “Daddio, you need to get better pickup lines.”
Dropping my hands to the back of his thighs, I lifted him, pressed him against the wall at his back, and notched myself between his thick thighs as they wrapped around my waist. “How’s that for a pickup line?”
