“You are a strongerman than me,bror,” Wraith says to me when I return to the table.
“And why is that, brother?” I repeat the word he used in Norwegian.
“Several reasons. Keeping your hands to yourself while Cashmere is performing, not gouging out the eyes of every feral man in here licking their chops, keeping your dick in your pants. I don’t think I could.”
“The men watching don’t bother me.” I glance across the table, straightening the cuff of my trench. “I get off on it a little. They all want him, but he only really talks to me. He comes home with me.”
Wraith nods. “Yeah, I can get on board with that. He’s very talented.”
“Yes.”
“And pretty. I always thought you liked the more masculine men.”
I nod, lifting my gin glass to take a sip. “That’s true, but I was done for the minute I saw Cashmere’s face. I think it’s more than that though. His…” I shrug. “His aura, I guess. There’s nothing delicate about him.”
“Definitely not. There’s fire in his eyes.”
And in his kiss.
“You don’t have to stick around. I can handle it.”
“Who says I don’t want to?” He lifts his beer. “Skål.”
“Skål.” I tap his glass.
I settle in my chair, antsy. I want Cashmere to come back out and talk to me, but at the same time, Wraith is right. It’s difficult not to drag him home and finally get my hands on him the way I want to.
Another dancer appears on stage, and while Wraith is interested, I couldn’t care less. I tap my fingers on the table, and as Cashmere appears again, his body covered by his robe, I’m soothed. All the tension and anxiousness drifts away the closer he gets.
I get to my feet and pull a chair out for him. His smile is serene, as if we didn’t just share a life-altering moment backstage. He drops into the seat elegantly, crossing one long leg over the other.
“Hi, boys,” he purrs.
I suck in a breath through my nose, inhaling his soft scent. “Hi. What are you drinking?”
He shrugs. “Something fruity and fun.” He raises a hand and one of the servers bounces over.
“Hey, Cashmere,” the server says. “Whatcha drinking?”
“Hey, Bunny. Ask Les if he’ll make me the cocktail special from a week ago. Purple monster or something like that?”
“The Monsterfucker. Yeah. Be right back.” Bunny turns his gaze to me and Wraith. “You gentlemen doing good on drinks?”
“Yes,” I answer while Wraith looks around the server to watch the dancer onstage.
“Who is that?” Wraith asks, his voice unusually deep.
I turn to look at the stage, finally noticing the sultry dancer twirling around a pole.
Cashmere glances over his shoulder. “That’s Pebbles. He’spretty new. Been here a couple days a week for about a month or two.”
“Mm-hmm. What do you know about Pebbles?”
“Nothing, but he’ll have a drink with you when his set is over if you want him to.”
“I want him to.”
I’ve never seen Wraith when he’s interested in someone before, and it’s almost amusing. His normal laid-back vibe has been completely replaced by a tangible intensity right before my eyes. I turn my head to focus on Pebbles for a moment. He’s muscular and on the shorter side, but he’s obviously incredibly strong, holding the weight of his body with only his arms as he circles the pole. From what I can tell under the lights, he has light-tan skin and dark hair, but I can’t see any other details. Apparently, Wraith can.
