His lips twitched. "What are the contenders?"
Only one. "Blond demon," I whispered.
That time, Mr. W was the one to laugh. He looked delighted at my suggestion, and I didn't know what that said about him. I wasn't used to not being able to read a person. With tourists, it was almost too easy to tell what type of a person they were. Being on vacation only heightened the best or worst in people. Shitty people became utter assholes on vacation. But Mr. W was all over the place. Arrogant and confident one moment, unassuming and kind the next. And, when I did meet a tourist who was more difficult to read, touching something of theirs filled in the blanks. Touching anything on Mr. W just made me wildly and uncontrollably horny.
Mr. W had wiped the laughter from his face. "I don't think I've done nearly enough to earn that sort of name," he murmured. His face swam nearer, and though I prided myself on being a quick-witted, unflappable young gay of the world, my spine sunk into the cushion as I sat pinned beneath his ever-growing closeness.
His lips skimmed over mine in the lightest kiss that could still be called as much. It wasn't enough, and yet the rush of adrenaline made me gasp. Mr. W took my parting lips as an invitation for his tongue. He wasn't tentative or hesitant, but he didn't demand anything of me as well. His kisses felt inevitable, and thank the Goddess that was true because now that I'd had one, I never wanted them to stop.
There I'd been, wondering if he was the pushy one, and yet I was the one who sprang up. I was the one who straddled his lap, and I was the one whose tongue thrust into his mouth with wild abandon.
I knew after the fact what I'd been doing: testing Mr. W's boundaries, whether he'd take control back or let me run with it.
He did not let me run.
One moment, I was in the dominant position, straddling his lap and squeezing his legs between my thighs. Then he made a growling sound, and suddenly, my back was against the cushions again. Our positions hadn't reversed, but I felt very much nestled beneath his considerable weight. Mr. W was a large man, both by height and muscle mass. That fact had never been more obvious than right then, as he sheltered me between his arms. All the while, our lips never parted.
My dick throbbed. The hard shaft pushed against the zipper. I had no doubt Mr. W could feel my erection as plainly as I felt his, insistently and firmly nudging my waist. I pumped my hips, too turned on to care we were still in a public place. If Mr. W reached down my pants and pulled me out for the whole club to see, I'd let him. And not because I was into exhibitionism; that normally wasn't my thing. But if Mr. W was the one asking…
His lips wrenched from me so abruptly it took my brain a few extra seconds to catch up. My heart dropped as my eyes fluttered open again. We were done with the kissing?
When I peered up into Mr. W's handsome face, the desire raging in his eyes told me we weren't. But then why were we getting up?
"Where are we going?" I asked, still in a daze from his kisses.
"Someplace I can enjoy this without anyone watching you move like that," he snarled, but there was no anger, only masculine determination.
I dug my heels into the ground, and Mr. W bounced against my backside. He caught me before I could trip forward. I spun around and looked up into his face. At the moment, the arrogant, confident side of him was winning. He looked a second away from draping me over his shoulder and carting me away, with or without my permission.
I pressed my hands against his chest, realizing my mistake the second my fingers curled to grip him closer instead of holding him away. "I'm not going to just leave with you to wherever you say. You're a stranger." He had to at least see how not even having his name would make disappearing with him a stupid decision.
His chest rumbled like he was half animal. "What are you saying, Hollister?"
For a crazy second, I wondered what he'd do if I said I was putting a stop to our time together completely. The rational, reasonable part of my mind said that he better accept my decisions or face the consequences. But the less rational, less reasonable, hornier side of my mind wanted to push him just to see what he'd do.
Until I knew his boundaries better, that was a very stupid thing to do. Besides, I didn't want to be done kissing him either. "We just met. You could be a killer! I'll take you to my place." I regretted suggesting it the moment the last word came out of my mouth. I didn't even bring my friends back to my place. There was no point when we would all have to crowd into my bedroom the entire time. But I didn't think either of us had anything planned for the night that would require leaving a bedroom, so I went with it. "I don't live far. It's just one bus over." I recognized a small part of me was also still trying to shock him. He was VIP lounge, while I was general public. Maybe he liked the idea of picking up a young, eager friend for the night, and I wasn't above being that for him, but that rebel in me still wanted to show him how very different we were—let him leave before things got to a point where I felt left.
Self-sabotage at its finest.
He frowned, and I thought he was going to reject my suggestion. Part of me wanted him to. I wasn't proud of where I lived. But it was a room that I could lock myself inside of and sleep without facing the elements or waking up with some stranger attacking me. And it was all I could afford at the moment. More important than all of that, did I want to spend time with a man who didn't listen to my wants and needs?
I didn't end up needing to answer that question. "Okay, we'll go to your place."
I beamed and grabbed his arm. "Awesome! I'll just go say bye to my friends."
We walked back down the stairs arm in arm. I found the guys back at the cluttered table.
"Heading out?" Sam yelled teasingly over the music. Sprinkles didn't lift his head from where he had it, resting on his arm on the table. I wouldn't be the only one leaving soon.
I nodded.
Jorge narrowed his eyes at Mr. W. "Be safe. Have fun." To Mr. W he used two of his fingers to point at his own eyes and then at Mr. W in the universal sign for I'm watching you. "I know what you look like."
I tightened my arm around Mr. W's and tugged him away before Jorge could issue any more threats. My stomach jumped, doing a gymnastic act that would've won golds across the board. Was I really taking an incredibly sexy, altogether intimidating man back to my house after knowing him for less than twenty minutes?
Chapter Three
Aver
Hollister's hand remained in mine the entire trip south. The Uber stopped finally in front of a squat two-story home. The remnants of a cyclone fence sat in the small, patchy yard out front. The path to the door wasn't so much a designated passage as it was simply where the ground had been packed and condensed enough to form a smooth, dirt surface that I was sure turned into mud at the first hint of rain. As the owner of a construction company, I was appalled. As the man who'd lain claim to Hollister for the evening, I was disturbed. A man stood hunched at the corner segment of the crumbling fence. His back was to the street while his hands clearly fumbled with his crotch. Somewhere on the street someone had their music blaring. I couldn't decipher what kind, only that it had a lot of bass.
"Is this it?" The driver looked from myself back to Hollister.