"We're still looking into it," Othello told him.
"Let me know if I can help," Luca said to him.
"I will," Othello said softly.
“Look, there’s another reason I agreed to meet with you. It's that our don wants to set up a meeting with Don Alessandro.”
“Why?”
“We know what moves your side is making, and we want in.”
“I need to know what you guys are offering before I can take it to the don.”
Luca nodded. “I know, so here is what we propose.” He explained what they were bringing to the table. The meeting went on a little longer than Othello wanted, and he left the diner at three in the morning. When he arrived home, he dismissed Tallen and Marco. He was so exhausted from the night's event he was moving on autopilot as he showered and moisturized his skin quickly. Before leaving the bathroom, he discarded his towel in the hamper. The second his head hit the pillow, he fell asleep immediately.
Des groaned,slowly waking up, frowning. He rubbed his face on the pillow beneath him, hating that it was so hard. The last few times it happened, he and Gray had a heavy night of drinking, and not wanting his friend to drink and drive made him sleep over. Because Des was such a wild sleeper and always got cold at night, he’d sometimes roll over in his sleep, seeking warmth, and end up practically sleeping on top of Gray.
Feeling the sun bearing down on his face, Des moaned and burrowed deeper into Gray’s chest. But then a thought came tohis sleep-addled brain: If it was morning, that meant that they had to get up for work.
“Gray, we need to get up, or we’ll be late for work,” Des said sleepily as his arm wrapped around his friend’s hard torso. He expected Gray to respond with his usual “five more minutes,” only to be surprised by something new.
“Who the fuck is Gray?” a sleepy, deep voice said. “I don’t appreciate you calling another man’s name while you’re draped all over me.”
Des sat up quickly and blinked the sleep from his eyes as his gaze traveled up a naked torso. He stopped at the scar for a few seconds, before moving up the man’s face. His eyes widened when he saw who was in bed with him.
“You!” he shouted in surprise.
“Yeah, me,” Moor said.
“What are you doing in my bed?” Des asked, still in shock. “And please tell me you’re not naked.”
The man smirked and went to push down the blankets, but Des shouted, “Don’t you fucking dare!”
“Why not, Doc? It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”
He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, eyeing Des’s chest, and that was when he realized he was naked as well. He hurriedly grabbed the blankets and covered himself.
“Don’t be shy now, baby. Last night, you were so fucking wild, I couldn’t control myself,” he said, sitting up on his elbows as the blankets moved down a little further, revealing more of the man's sexiness.
Des gasped, gaping at him. “We didn’t—?” Before the other man could answer, Des clenched his ass and looked down at himself, sighing in relief when he felt no pain in his backside.
“Answer my question.” Othello’s brows creased together. “Who the fuck is Gray?”
“Why the hell do you need to know that? You sound like a jealous fucking lover, and the last I checked, we didn’t sleep together,” Des huffed, getting out of bed, but was pulled back down and groaned when the other man rolled over on top of him.
“Get the fuck off me, you asshole,” he growled, pushing at the other man’s chest, and thankfully, the sheet and blanket kept them from touching skin to skin.
“How do you know we didn’t fuck last night?” Moor asked in a calm voice, and Des stopped struggling.
“Unless you have a pencil dick, my ass would be hurting right now.”
“What if it was the other way around?” the man asked, quirking a brow.
Des stared at the other man for quite a few seconds, trying to recall his night's events. He’d broken his own rule, and instead of drinking at home like normal, he'd allowed Bianca to talk him into going to some club with her so she could meet her new boy toy, but she had disappeared the second she walked through the door. He'd deal with her later. There was a reason he drank at home alone or with his best friend; when he got too drunk, he'd black out and not remember anything he did the night before. So there was a possibility that he’d topped Moor.
“Did I...” He was about to ask Moor if he’d hurt him, but the man seemed intact, so he changed his question. Swallowing his saliva, he asked, “Was I good?”
Des felt his face flush when Moor burst out laughing and rolled off him and onto the bed.
