Page 18 of Compulsion

“Not always, though, is it?”

“What?”

He sighed. “The interference. It’s not always fine. People may mean well, but they can’t know what you’re really like, what you really want. It used to be like that for me too.”

“Used to?”

He shrugged. The muscles under his T-shirt flexed, promising so much that I felt the aching heat in my groin. “Now my life is my own affair. What I do, who I do it with. It’s nothing to do with anyone else.”

I looked over at his flash car, his expensive clothes. Imagined his well-paid job, the salary he commanded, the staff he’d be in charge of. A whole fucking boy band on his arm…. “I don’t think we’re remotely the same.”

He didn’t reply, just looked at me. In that moment I saw the hunger in his eyes and—yes—a brief flare of uncertainty. I took a step back, away from him. I was trying to leave. I really was.

“He’s with the blond one, isn’t he? Your friend?” He seemed to smile at the thought.

I knew he meant Louis. Everyone knew Louis at the clubs—he was a local dancer. He was the ripple of lightness and grace that turned heads as he passed. He was the one who drew the crowds, who would be a star one day, who got hit on every time he went out. Not me. “Yeah, he and Louis are a couple. They’ve been together for years.”

His smile broadened. “I thought so. I was tempted by him a couple of months ago when he started his gig at Compulsion, but I never got any positive reaction from him. I assumed he must be taken.” There was a twinkle in his eye—a kind of mischief. “A man like that wouldn’t be free for long.”

I was horrified at the wave of nausea that engulfed me. “You made a play for Louis?”

“No, I did not pursue it. It was obviously a mixed message from him.” Seve twisted his body to ease the car keys out of his jeans pocket. It was an elegant, sensual movement. It looked like he was trying to be careless, but from the way he turned his face, sneaking a look at my expression from under his hooded lids, he knew he’d shocked me. In fact, he was bloody enjoying it. “He looks like he needs it, doesn’t he? Needs a fuck. The way he moves, the looks he gives a man… like he’s asking for it. All the time.”

“Louis is definitely not like that. You….” I caught my breath. “You’re an arrogant prick, you know that?”

Seve just smiled as if, yes, he did know. “I said it was a mixed message. I thought it was a come-on for me, but it’s just the way he is.” He turned to face me again, his eyes sparkling. As cars passed the club, the illumination from their headlights swept the side of his face and neck. “And you’re very defensive, aren’t you? Why would you care?”

Yeah, why would I, apart from his careless disrespect of Louis? Shit, was I jealous? Startled that Seve had been attracted to one of my friends before he even met me? I’d never been in this situation before—in direct competition with a mate. It’d be amusing if it wasn’t so… so….

“I’m glad I waited, though,” Seve was saying. He rolled the keys around in his palm, back and forth. His gaze ran down my body, trailing hot slices of need in their wake. “The messages are a damn sight clearer from you.”

“You reckon?”

He smiled slowly in reply.

It’s just sex, I told myself. My head whirled. I’m just a willing arse. Look how he talks about it… about me.

“Will you get in the car now?”

I paused. I wanted something else, I guess. Some other word. Whereas my cock—I sighed to myself wearily—just wanted him. Seve dropped his head back, stretching his arms out behind his shoulders. Cracked the joints of his fingers as if he’d been still for too long and needed action. He moved with the restrained energy of a wild cat, like something feral. Something predatory.

He replied as if he’d heard my thoughts and was angry or tired of them. “You just want to talk more, then? Or do you want to fuck?”

“That’s my only choice?” I snapped back.

Suddenly there was that flash of uncertainty again. This time he was the one to hesitate, his free hand lifting from his side, reaching for me. His breath was warm on my cheek, and I thought he’d try to grab me. But instead, he ran his fingertips along my jaw and then to my ear. He touched me as if he were blind, trying to gauge the shape of my face. His breathing was faster than before.

“Max?” He said just my name, his voice low and softly questioning.

Hell. Before I could even think about replying, he leaned even closer and put his mouth on mine. I found myself sucking on his tongue, hot and needy. He had his answer. I was sure people were staring at us as they passed on the pavement, but I didn’t care. I gripped his arms and pressed as close to him as the contours of my body allowed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the bouncers move uneasily. Behind them, something—or someone—else stirred. A shadow passed across the side of the building, like someone had dodged back out of sight. You know that feeling, when you don’t see something clearly enough to know what it is, but your sixth sense alerts you to trouble? The hairs on the back of my neck sprang up like I was a guard dog and I’d heard a key in an unseen but forbidden lock. Was it another security man? Just one of the partygoers?

A group of young men pushed past us with a wolf whistle or two, on their way to the club entrance. Distracted, I pulled away from Seve.

And I got in the car.

WE DIDN’T go anywhere special—no exclusive party, no discreet bar, no guided tour of where Seve lived or played. But at least he never took me to that bleak, windy lay-by I’d imagined. Instead, we drove for fifteen minutes or so in silence toward Hove, where we pulled into the tree-lined car park of a small guest house. Seve switched off the lights and turned to me.