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“Fine. I’ll put you down.” Brennan slips his gun from its holster and starts spinning it on the desk as if it were a child’s toy. “Have fun tapping that basketball player’s ass. You know he’s submissive as hell. Wouldn’t mind getting in on that again.”

Between the gun and Brennan’s obvious attempt to bait me, I need to leave before I do something I’ll regret. And I do, but not before I grunt out. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

When I leave, Brennan’s laughter follows me out.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Dean

Michael’s hand slides down my chest, and heat follows in its wake. Pressing. Rubbing. Almost soothing. Then there’s the rip. Fiery pain.

“Ow!”

Ella’s already in bed. I’m trying to keep quiet. But he’s not making it easy.

Trying to calm myself, I blow out a long breath. My skin is burning, a million pinpricks jabbing me where the wax pulled out my hairs.

“Hold still.” Michael twirls a wooden stick in the wax warmer on the bathroom counter and holds it up, ready to go again. “It’ll hurt more if you don’t.”

“Like you care.”

He sucks his lips between his teeth, staring for a moment before he braces his hand on my shoulder and applies wax to the next strip of skin. I could swear I see a flash of hurt, but I’m not sure. In a second it’s there and gone.

For some reason, I insist on watching us both in the mirror while he works. I drink in the way his full lips press together as he assesses the next swipe of wax. I’m cataloging the path of his hand, the soothing press of his palm as he makes sure the wax has good contact, then the quick flick of his wrist as he rips the entire thing off. Once again, I flinch without meaning to, releasing a quiet grunt of pain.

“Should’ve done this myself.”

“Last time you did it yourself, it looked terrible. And don’t forget the time you walked around with a chunk of wax stuck to your balls because you were afraid to rip it off.”

“That was a long time ago.” It was the first time I had ever tried to wax myself, and it hurt like hell. I’ve gotten better since then.

Not as good as Mike, but better.

“Good thing you’ve got me now.” He chuckles as he swirls the stick in the wax again, applying it lower this time, closing in on the sensitive skin of my belly. When he breathes, it tickles. My nipples are already hard from the cool bite of the air conditioning, and now I’ve got his warm breath puffing on them, stimulating the freshly waxed skin.

Rip. “Fuck,” I whisper. My abs tighten so hard that I get a muscle cramp.

Soon I’m going to have to take off my shorts. I’m silently begging my dick to stay down.

Sometimes I miss the days when I was sure I was straight. Not that I’ve got an issue with being queer exactly, but things were a hell of a lot clearer.

It was the blow job with Brennan that changed things for me. Made me realize there was something in me that got turned on by… I don’t know.

Shame? Embarrassment? Not sure gender even matters.

It wasn’t that I felt any attraction toward Brennan. But sucking him off in front of Mike like that? Knowing my friend had his judgmental eyes on me, the way Brennan played on my desperation, it did something weird to me. I knew I wasn’t supposed to like it, and it wasn’t supposed to feel good. And it sort of didn’t.

But also, it really did.

“Sorry. We can’t all be perfect like you are,” I mumble.

Warm wax. Press. Rip. Cheese and freaking rice.

This time I manage to keep my lips closed and only blow out a heavy breath through my nose.

Michael seems to take his time, studying me. “I’m not perfect, I just have the good sense to go to a nice young lady named Alice who does this professionally.”

Press. Rip. I squeeze the shower curtain bar to steady myself, trying not to feel weird that I’ve got Ella’s favorite cartoon characters staring back at me.