He nodded and gave me a small smile. “Yeah. Since I was fourteen. What about you?”
“Yeah, my dad didn’t even blink. Just gave me the awkward ‘be safe, use protection’ speech that was as horrifying as it was humiliating, considering I’d just brought a guy home and my dad wasn’t supposed to be there.”
Michael put a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide. “No . . .”
I laughed. “Yep. First and last nugget of fatherly advice he ever bestowed on me.”
“Oh my god. I would have died.”
“It was funny. Well, it’s funny now. It wasn’t back then.”
Smiling, he leaned in and kissed me again, then turned back around and pulled me down to be the big spoon. He watched the TV for all of three seconds. “Oh, who is that gorgeous man?”
“He’s the new detective,” I explained. “He’s the good cop. The other guy is the lone-wolf cop, and well, we all know he’s not really an arsehole, he’s just misunderstood and he has his reasons, and the good cop has to mend his broken heart.”
“This is a gay cop show?”
“Ah yeah, didn’t I say that?”
“No.” Michael pulled my arm under his head to use as a pillow and he was quiet as he watched for a while. “This is going to be my new favourite show, isn’t it?”
I chuckled and kissed the back of his head. “Yep.”
We watched another episode, but after Michael yawned a second time, he turned the TV off, and taking my hand, he led me to his room. We stripped naked, climbed into bed, and we began to make out, kissing and touching, lying on our sides.
But it never led to sex. It was just sensual and lovely without going to that next level. And then kissing became nuzzling, and nuzzling became snuggling, and the next thing I knew, it was morning.
“Shit, I’m going to be late,” he said, trying to dry himself with his towel. We’d just showered together and jerked each other off. I had promised him two orgasms, and I refused to not deliver on a promise.
I stood at his bathroom vanity, a towel around my waist, a toothbrush in my mouth—my toothbrush, I might add. Well, it was a new toothbrush he’d opened for me the other week, but it was now technically mine. “I’d like to say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”
He slapped me on the arse as he rushed into his walk-in wardrobe. “I’m not sorry either, but I will be sorry if my boss gets in before me.”
I pulled on my jeans and found my T-shirt in the living room, and just as I was putting it on, he walked out in a smart navy suit, crisp white shirt, and brown shoes. His hair was done to perfection and he looked damn good, and he smelled even better. “Christ, I’d like to take you out of that suit. Maybe instead of opening the door in a robe or swimming gear, you can wear that.”
He stopped, looked me up and down. “Love the Duran Duran shirt,” he said. “Though I can’t decide if I prefer the Purple Rain shirt or The Clash one. But either way, those band shirts help you live up to your name.”
What? “My name?”
“Yeah, Sexy as Fuck. We’ve established that’s your forever-name now.”
I laughed. “Do you want to know my real name?” I asked. “I’ll tell you if you want.”
He seemed to consider this for a moment. Then he shrugged as if he couldn’t have cared less. “No thanks.”
“Ouch.” I pretended to be hurt. Or maybe I wasn’t pretending. Maybe now I wanted him to know.
He laughed and pocketed his phone and wallet. “You ready to leave?”
I slipped into my boots and stood up. “Yep.” I grabbed my phone, wallet, and keys. “Sure you don’t want to know my name?”
He grinned as he held the door for me. “Nah, I’m good. See, you know way more about me than I know about you. So me choosing to not know your name is the only power play I have left.”
“Power play?” I hit the elevator button. Power play . . . Was this still a game? He clearly thought it was, but somewhere along the lines, I’d stopped keeping score.
Christ, I was in trouble.
He smiled at my reflection as we stepped into the elevator with the mirrored back wall. “I really do like that shirt,” he said.
I looked to the real him, not his reflection. “And I really do like that suit.”
“Want me to wear it tomorrow night when you come over?”
Tomorrow night? Oh shit, tomorrow was Friday. “Hell yes, I do. And you might want to keep some lube near the sofa so I can just bend you over the back of it as soon as I walk in.”
His lips parted and his nostrils flared; then he had to readjust himself. “Fuck,” he breathed. “I can’t go to work with a hard-on. You shouldn’t say shit like that to me.”
The elevator doors opened and we stepped out. This was where we would part ways: he’d go in one direction, I’d go the other. So I turned and grinned at him. “That, my dear Michael”—I emphasised his name, because I could—“is what I call a power play.” I laughed at his expression, gave him a salute. “Have a good day, Michael.”
I walked a few metres before I turned to find him still standing there. “I hate you,” he called out.
I laughed again. “No you don’t.”
He snarled at me and turned, walking in the opposite direction. I waited for him to turn and look at me, and for the longest while, I didn’t think he was going to. But he did. He turned to look at me. He did the thing where if they look over their shoulder or turn around, it means something, right?
Well, he fucking turned.
And I stood there on the footpath, facing his direction instead of mine, looking directly at him. I raised my hand in a small wave, and he groaned at getting caught. I laughed and he smiled and shook his head before going on his way.
But he turned to look at me. He turned, and that meant something right?
The fact I was standing there like a lamppost waiting for him to turn around didn’t have to mean anything though. I wondered if I should text him some smart-arse comment when my phone rang. I grinned as I fished it out of my pocket, thinking it would be him.
But it wasn’t. It was Terrence.
I answered his call. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Just checking what time you need me today.”
Ah, head in the game, Bryce. “First is at ten, second is directly after. It’s with the same firm, so there’s no messing around in between,” I explained as I began to walk home. “You should be back at work by half eleven at the latest.”
“Okay.”
“I really do appreciate it. I know you’re busy.”
“You owe me dinner.”
I laughed. “Deal.”
“Are we meeting at the real estate office or at the site?”
“At the site. The lady’s name is Natalie and she’s part of the CREA group.”
“CREA? Even I’ve heard of them.”
“Yeah, they’re kind of a big deal. She’s going to meet us there to save time.”
“Good. Text me the address. I’ll meet you there.”
“Will do.”
“And the first venue is the one you want, right?”