“I’ll be right down!”
He grabbed his coat, checking that his phone and keys were still in his pockets, and left the apartment in a rush. He pulled on his coat as he jogged down the stairs, zipping it up before opening the door and walking out the front door.
“Hello,” he said, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of both werewolves standing next to each other.
Individually, August and Ryker were very tall, very built specimens, but seeing them next to each other was something else.
It was more than a little intimidating.
“Dylan.” August grinned, stepping forward and pulling him in for a hug. “It’s nice to see you again.”
August let him go, only for Ryker to grab him and pull him into a hug of his own. “Hello, Dylan. I’m looking forward to our date tonight.”
“Me too,” Dylan said, blushing as Ryker released him. He looked at both werewolves, doing a double take when he saw what August was wearing.
“I thought you said it was business casual?” he blurted out, taking in the motorcycle boots, thigh-hugging leather pants and snug leather jacket clinging to August’s muscular frame. The werewolf was even wearing armored leather gloves. The gloves had gauntlets that went up over his wrists and forearms, and they were tightened with Velcro fasteners over the sleeves of his leather jacket.
The gloves were the kind that belonged with a motorcycle racing suit, making Dylan’s mind flash to Steve. He’d worn something very similar at the coffee shop.
Dylan forcefully pushed thoughts of Steve out of his mind.
“It is,” August said, rolling his shoulders. He rubbed his chest, the bulky motorcycle glove making his hand look huge. “I’m wearing a very nice sweater under here.”
Dylan swallowed, not sure if he was intimidated or turned on by all the leather.
“You don’t like it?” August asked, sounding disappointed.
“No, you look very nice,” Dylan said, wishing he hadn’t said anything. He glanced at Ryker, noting the fancy wool overcoat and expensive suit he wore underneath. His eyes widened at the sight of his bulge. “I’m just… am I underdressed? I can go up and change, I have a-”
“Don’t worry, you’re dressed just right for where we’re going,” Ryker interrupted. “You don’t have to change a thing.”
“You look nice,” August added. He was still stroking his chest, glancing down at his jacket like he was reevaluating his choices.
Dylan felt horrible. He hadn’t meant to make August self-conscious about his outfit.
“Thank you.” Dylan put his hands in his pockets. His excitement was fizzing out and he was starting to feel awkward.
He was terrible at dating. He didn’t know why he’d thought it would be different now.
“If you’re ready to go, we have reservations at seven thirty.” Ryker said, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him close. “I’ll carry you to the car.”
Dylan let out a squeal of surprise as Ryker lifted him into the air, holding him under his arms and carrying him down the stairs.
He made it seem so easy, and Dylan wondered just how strong he was.
“I can walk,” Dylan said, laughing. His legs were dangling, and the sensation of being carried so easily was thrilling.
“I know, but I like to carry you,” Ryker said. They reached the sidewalk and Ryker set him down on the ground. He brushed off his shoulders, standing with his chest just inches away from Dylan’s face. “Our car is parked right over there.”
He pointed a little down the road, grinning like he knew exactly how much Dylan had enjoyed being carried.
“Nice SUV,” Dylan said, recognizing the brand but not the model.
“Thank you,” August said, startling him by coming up right behind him and putting his hands on his shoulders. Dylan suddenly found himself boxed in between the two werewolves, head caught between their broad chests, the position setting his heart racing with nervous excitement. August squeezed down on his shoulders, his thumbs finding Dylan’s shoulder blades and rubbing over the tips of his scapula. “It’s mine, but Ryker is driving. You and I will have the back seat to ourselves.”
Dylan suddenly felt like he wasn’t getting enough air.
“That’s nice,” he said, shuddering when August’s hands moved in and touched the sides of his neck. The leather of his glove was smooth and cold, and for a second Dylan thought he was going to wrap his fingers around his throat.
