Magnus glanced at him sideways. “Didn’t realize it was an invitation-only place.”
“Are you stalkin’ me now?”
“Yes,” Magnus said matter-of-factly. “Yes, Trey, that is exactly what I’m doin’. I’ve been hangin’ outside local watering holes waitin’ for you to make an appearance so I could pounce.”
“You’re an ass.”
“I am, sure,” Magnus agreed.
So fucking agreeable.
“Why’re you really here?” Trey demanded.
Magnus glanced around as though checking to see who might be listening. The only other person within earshot was Mack, and he was currently typing something on his phone.
“I’ve decided I’d like a rematch.”
Trey snorted. “Yeah? And what makes you think I’m interested?”
“Are you sayin’ you’re not?”
Trey wasn’t prepared for that comeback, and the moment of silence was enough to give the impression that, yes, he was interested, which meant he had to lay it on thick.
“Not a chance. I told you. One night.” He gave a light shrug of his shoulder. “Wasn’t good enough the first go-round to warrant another.”
Damn it if that didn’t seem to amuse Magnus. The fucker chuckled softly.
“Keep tellin’ yourself that.” Magnus leaned in. “But we both know it was the best fuck either of us has ever had.”
Trey took a long swallow and stared at the back wall of the bar. He was not going to comment, nor would he give away any facial expression that might confirm that statement.
As far as he was concerned, it didn’t matter how fucking good that night was or how many times Trey had relived it in his dreams or used it as fuel for taking the edge off with his own fucking hand. He was not interested in a relationship, and as far as he was concerned, more than one night constituted something more.
Nope, he had every intention of remaining celibate. Even if it killed him.
Which, based on the tightness of his jeans at the moment, it very likely could.
Magnus could practically feel the tension coming off Trey, and he didn’t have to be a genius to know exactly what he was thinking about.
Same thing Magnus had been thinking about for the past month and a half. Ever since that night when he’d followed Trey home from the bar, then ended up half-naked, on the bed, both of them too hot to think of anything but the next kiss, the next touch.
Honestly, that night he’d figured Trey would back out, back down before they ever got that far. He’d seen it in the man’s eyes during their initial encounter when Magnus had interrupted what had appeared to be an argument between Trey and Cyrus. Something in Trey’s eyes had warned him he should proceed with caution. He’d felt Trey’s desire, knew he couldn’t deny there was something between them, but at the same time, Trey had a desperate need to be defiant, to go against his own desires. Someone—Cyrus, maybe—had hurt him and he’d been licking his wounds, protecting himself.
Magnus had proceeded with caution, telling himself he could help. After all, he wasn’t looking for anything and he certainly wasn’t looking to hurt him.
Didn’t mean he would love Trey or want more than a brief fling. He wasn’t that man, didn’t look to the future. At the same time, he didn’t pretend not to want what he wanted. Magnus lived in the moment and never,evertook anything for granted. There was nothing to say it wouldn’t be ripped right out of your hands with your next breath. He’d learned that lesson early.
But that night… He still remembered every kiss, every touch, but most often, he relived it so he could enjoy Trey’s dominance one more time. And he wasn’t lying when he said it’d been the best sex he’d ever had.
He took a long pull on his beer, stared at the wall as the memory flashed once again.
Magnus focused on the weight of Trey’s body grinding against him in all the right places, the warmth of his skin beneath his palms.
“Christ, you taste good,” Trey rumbled, his lips trailing down Magnus’s jaw, his neck.
“Fuck.” He palmed Trey’s head, holding him close so that wicked mouth moved over him, so skillful, so determined.
Unfortunately, Trey slipped away, getting to his feet, ending the moment abruptly.
