by Layla Reyne
“Jacob?” Dane tossed his newly sleeveless shirt over the hand dryer, dug the shaving gel out of the bag, then sat the bag on top of the shirt so he could run water in the sink. “Is that the best thing right now, with training and all?”
“The hangover will be a bigger problem.”
He scrubbed down his face and lathered on the foaming gel. “He got the pup drunk?”
“Jacob’s a student athlete at UT with a fake ID. I’m sure it’s not his first run-in with tequila.” Alex’s dress shirt flopped over the pants as Dane swiped one cheek clean.
“What’s going on with those two?”
“What do you mean?”
“Mentor-mentee or something else?”
“I don’t know which way the pup swings.”
A final swipe of the other cheek. “But we both know Bas will fuck anything that moves.”
The door swung open behind him. “Do we?”
Dane’s gaze shot to Alex’s reflection in the mirror, and he dropped the razor. He was sure it clattered against the sink, but he couldn’t hear it for the blood whooshing in his ears. Blood that beelined south as his gaze made a similar journey down Alex’s body. The mesh top showed off his broad chest better than Dane had imagined, and those ratty jeans fit just shy of decent. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Alex shirtless and in jammers daily, but that was Alex the swimmer.
Unreachable. A safe distance away.
This was Alex the man. Standing five feet behind him.
Looking like everything Dane had ever wanted.
His gaze swept back up and met Alex’s in the mirror. He held the heated stare until it burned, then cast his eyes aside with a muttered “Fuck.”
“Finish up so I can put on the final touches,” Alex said, voice low.
Dane wiped down his face and the sink, as he wrangled his body and hormones in line. Talk about something else, someone else. What had they been saying right before Alex stepped out of that stall looking like sin? Oh, right . . .
“Before, I didn’t mean . . . Bas and I haven’t—”
“I know. He’d have told me.” Alex tossed the compact at him. “Doctor the pale bottom half of your face.”
Dane glanced in the mirror over his shoulder. Sure enough, postshave, his jaw was a lighter shade than the rest of his pinked face. He dotted and patted, unhappily reminded of his mother, until Alex took his mind off it with more talk of Bas and Jacob.
“He’ll tell me about the pup too. If something develops there. At best, it’ll be a summer fling. Bas doesn’t do commitment, not since the last Olympics.”
But did Alex do commitment? Dane couldn’t give him that, no matter how much he wanted to. He hadn’t been lying at the press conference when he’d said he was terrible boyfriend material. His life was twenty-four-seven swimming and posing, with a freelance coding gig snuck in for his sanity’s sake. He didn’t have room for anything—anyone—else. And why the hell was he thinking about a future he couldn’t have? He could have tonight, though. Where only he and Alex existed, dancing in a crowd, in disguise and unknown. He could take a night off and get lost, pretending he and Alex were sixteen again. As close to real as he could get. He could make pretending work for, not against, them.
Alex skirted around Dane, leaning closer to the mirror to doctor his eyes and run styling gel into his hair. Dane, careful not to touch, tossed the razor in the bag, gathered their clothes, and shoved them in there too. He grabbed his overshirt and shrugged back into it, leaving it unbuttoned this time.
“All right, your turn,” Alex said.
Dane turned back around and lost his breath, again. The charcoal around Alex’s wide, expressive eyes made the dark brown irises pop, all the warm earthy shades swirling together, utterly captivating. Dane couldn’t have torn his gaze away if a gold medal depended on it.
Those eyes got closer, Alex in his space, as he ran gelled hands through Dane’s hair, slicking it back. Only those captivating eyes kept Dane’s from rolling back in pleasure. He clenched his jaw, fighting a moan, and when he spoke, it came out rough and gravelly. “I thought I had the hat for this.”
“In case you lose it,” Alex said, his own voice a timbre or two lower. “The gel makes it look darker, less noticeable.”
“You’re good at this disguise thing.”
“More like good at the club thing.” He stepped back, observing his work, and Dane inhaled through his clenched teeth, hoping it wasn’t too audible. “When Bas and I were at SC, we went out a lot. I miss it.”
“Didn’t get a lot of practice with that in Chapel Hill.”
Dane reared back at the threat of eyeliner, only stopping when Alex’s thumb and index finger captured his chin. Alex flicked his finger against the sensitive spot beneath Dane’s chin, an erogenous zone neither of them was likely to forget, and Dane froze. “Not fair.”
Alex shrugged. “Close your eyes,” he smirked, and Dane caved. “You didn’t stray far. Charlotte to Chapel Hill. It’s what, two hours?”
“You met my parents, right?”
Pressure on his chin was all the answer Dane needed. “Look up,” Alex clipped.
“They’re both alumni, Dad’s family for generations. There was no getting out of that one, being a double legacy and all.”
“You didn’t have to go back to Charlotte, to SwimMAC, afterward. Mo’s at Nation’s Capital. DC, LA, I’m sure any club would be happy to have you.”
Alex’s hand dropped from his face, and Dane felt the loss acutely. He reached for the trailing hand and wrapped his own around Alex’s forearm, keeping him close. “Not everyone’s as brave as you, Alejandro.”
It would have been so easy to pull Alex forward, against his body, against his lips. But as unfair as life had been to Alex already, he deserved someone better than Dane. He deserved a future Dane couldn’t give him. All he could give Alex were the next few weeks, his efforts in the pool and at being a real teammate, including blowing off a little steam tonight.
As teammates.
That was all.
Twenty yards outside the club’s main entrance, Alex’s forward momentum halted, reversed on a dime by Dane’s death grip around his arm.
“This is a gay club,” Dane exclaimed under his breath.
“Round of applause for the rocket scientist.” The same-sex couples necking in line, and the two groups of bachelorette parties, if Alex read those pink boas and plastic tiaras right, were dead giveaways.
“I didn’t think we were going to a gay club.”
“You thought we were going to a regular club dressed like this?” He gestured at their attire and made-up faces.
Dane blanched ten shades paler and his icy eyes, haunting lined in black, grew huge. This was clearly more of a plunge than Dane had anticipated.
“I texted Jacob and got the name of this place,” Alex said, trying to distract Dane. “He said it’s the best club in town, gay or not.”
Silence descended again, only the thumping beat of music from inside the club and Dane’s quick, short breaths filling the void between them. After the press conference today, and the hungry look Dane had given him in the bathroom, Alex was determined to help Dane off that cliff. But as much as Alex wanted to push—to give Dane a taste of the life he could be, should be, living, so he’d accept who he really was—this had to be Dane’s choice. Alex wasn’t going to force him out of his cushy closet. Sure, he’d open the door, but Dane had to take the step out.
“We can find a different place,” he offered.
Dane’s answer was immediate. “No!”
That was enough of a step for Alex. Before Dane could retreat, or yack all over his shoes, Alex grabbed his hand and dragged him past the velvet rope toward the front of the line. “Give me your ID.”
“Then they’ll know who we are.”
“Bruiser there—” he tilted his head at the over-muscled, chrome-domed bouncer “—is going to take one look at the dates and hand them back.” A bluff Alex was counting on, sin
ce there hadn’t been time for fake IDs. Given their height and build, they looked plenty old enough. He was also counting on their height and build for distraction.
Dane slapped his ID into Alex’s palm, and, hand in hand, Alex skipped the line and marched them right to the bouncer.
“You’re going to let us in,” Alex said, holding the licenses out to him. Despite being loath to flaunt his body, Alex made sure to stand so his and Dane’s front sides were in Chrome-Dome’s view and their backsides, both encased in painted-on jeans, his own with strategic rips beneath each ass cheek, were in view of the security camera.
Bas had taught him this trick in college, when they were underage and trying to get into clubs with fake IDs. Guys like him and Bas, like Dane, were the sort other guys noticed, bought drinks for, hung around the club longer for. The kind of eye candy the bachelorette crowd liked to dance with, without fear of being groped. All generating money behind the bar and at the door.
As expected, the big bruiser spent more time checking them out than their IDs. Dane’s hand tightened around his, probably thinking they’d been found out, rather than checked out. Chrome-Dome’s head canted toward his ear with the Bluetooth headset, then a lecherous grin stretched across his gnarly face.
They were in.
He reached into his pocket, drew out a card, and, along with their IDs, handed it to Alex. Plain white, BURKE SECURITY printed in bold, black letters over a local phone number. “Call me sometime, if you want to ride a different cowboy.”
Dane made a strangled sound, and Alex had to stifle his own laugh long enough to haul Dane inside. Around the corner, in the main entry hall, he doubled over, clutching his sides and wiping his eyes, laughing harder than he had in ages.
“Did he just say that?” Dane gasped, dumbstruck.
Alex unfolded and clapped Dane’s shoulder. “Prepare for worse, Cowboy.”
Dane’s eyes rounded again, nearly sending Alex into another fit of hysterics, but then a gaggle of women staggered down the hallway, propelling them forward. Taking Dane’s hand, he led them the rest of the way inside the club.
It was like most of the others Alex had visited in LA. Bar at one end, three deep with people trying to order drinks. Pub tables around the support poles for half the space, then open the rest of the way up to the raised platform at the other end where a DJ and dancers worked their magic. A handful of reserved booths lined one long wall, and on the opposite wall, shadowed nooks and crannies for those seeking privacy. The only major differences he could discern between this club and the ones in SoCal were more macrobrew signs and cowboy hats.
Making their way to the bar, their height caught the bartender’s attention, and that of nearly everyone around them, clearing a narrow path through the crowd.
“Well, this is a treat,” the bartender said, and for the first time that night, Alex worried they were caught. Dane had shot way past worried, if his death grip on Alex’s hand was any indication.
Alex played it cool. “Yeah, how’s that?”
“Two new faces and the both of you gorgeous,” the bartender said with a wink. Dane’s circulation-killing grip loosened, and blood rushed back into Alex’s fingers, the tingling almost painful. “What’ll it be?” the bartender asked. “First round’s on me.”
“And the second’s on me,” came a voice behind Alex.
Glancing over his shoulder, Alex favored the attractive blond standing behind him with a smile. “Mighty nice of you.”
“Not as nice as that ass.”
And thus began the line of suitors to approach them over the next half hour. Alex kept one hand in Dane’s, anchoring him and making sure he didn’t bolt, but their disguises held, as did every man’s interest in them. After his second drink, Alex slid the third toward Dane, and with each sip of liquid courage, Dane’s hand in his loosened a little more, the Dane Alex remembered from camp slowly surfacing.
Genuine smile full of innocence and gleaming teeth, not the fake for-the-cameras one that had become Dane’s default.
Bright, alive eyes, not worn down by conflict, not deadened by Dane’s fight against his parents and against himself.
Flushed freckled cheeks, not brought on by sunburn, exertion or anger, but by flirtatious attention.
This Dane was beautiful. This Dane was the one Alex had fallen in love with.
Now, if he would just take a couple more steps . . .
Alex slipped free his barely tangled fingers, and Dane didn’t flinch. Smiling, Alex whispered in Dane’s ear, “Come find me when you’re ready.”
Without a backward glance, Alex wound his way into the mass of writhing bodies on the dance floor. The crowd engulfed him, men dancing on either side of him. He closed his eyes and let the light buzz and music overtake him, let it wash away the tension that had dogged him for . . . he couldn’t remember how long. As much as Dane had needed a night out, so had Alex. An escape from the captaincy, from the press, from the weighty responsibilities and nagging guilt. Other than Dane, no one here knew him. No one cared that he was gay or Hispanic. No one would blame him for injuries, lost medals, or a dent in farm profits. He was just another body in the sea of dancers, a nameless guy out for the night, looking for a temporary break from reality. Dancing, he felt free, more like himself than he had in far too long.
Bodies swapped in and out around him, and Alex, in his own world, didn’t distinguish one from another until the mix of sweat and cologne was pierced by a waft of chlorine and Tropicana. Long tapered fingers settled on his hips, and a cowboy hat landed on his head. An arrow of heat shot straight to his dick when warm breath and the brush of chapped lips tickled his ear.
Dane had usually been the one in front when they’d danced, but Alex could lead from this position just as well. He covered Dane’s hands and pressed his body back, leaving Dane’s no choice but to move with him. Dane caught on fast, dipping and swaying with him, each movement teasing them both.
Yeah, he could still lead, and Dane could still follow like a pro.
“Do you have any idea how hot you are?” Dane rumbled in his ear.
“Do you have any idea what it means in Texas to give your hat to someone?” Alex countered.
“Not until about ten minutes ago. Some guy at the bar wanted mine.”
“You didn’t take him up on it?”
“Told him it was already spoken for.”
Heart ramming against his rib cage, Alex tipped his head forward to hide his face behind the hat’s rim. Fuck, he wanted this to be real. Wanted Dane as much as he had when they were kids, and judging by the rock-hard cock nestled against his ass and the hot mouth doing wicked things to his neck, Dane still wanted him too. But just for tonight? Was that enough for Alex?
God knew, it’d been more than a single-season drought for him in the sex department. Between USOC and teaching, plus the farm, there’d been no time for dating. A random hookup, maybe, but that assumed he wouldn’t rather pass out in the four spare hours a day he had to himself.
Now, in a rare moment when he did have a night off, here was Dane, all but offering to end that drought. It’d be simpler to take Blondie from the bar into the bathroom and jerk off together, but that’s not what—not who—Alex really wanted. Who he wanted was dancing behind him, so very close, but for all the steps Dane had taken forward tonight, history predicted he’d walk them back. How much did Alex care? He should. If Dane sobered up tomorrow and regretted tonight, it could royally screw things up with the team, even more so than they had been. He’d chided Bas earlier, yet here he was, on the cusp of creating more drama, more distraction than Bas ever had. As captain, responsibility lay with Alex, and he’d already fucked up once, inciting Dane to a fight that had cost them their senior member. He couldn’t afford another misstep.
But Christ, that hard, hot body writhing behind him . . .
He lifted his head, twisting it to ask Dane, “How drunk are you?”
Dane snaked an arm around his waist, yanking him back from th
e man dancing in front of them. “Sober enough to know you’re the only one here I want.”
Alex’s heart abandoned its assault on his ribs and lodged itself in his throat.
As if he knew, Dane licked a path up the side of his neck, soothing, and also making Alex’s head spin. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”
Fuck reality.
Alex reached a hand back and grabbed Dane’s ass, holding him close, as if he could somehow push Dane’s dick through two layers of denim. But that’s not what Dane liked, and that thought alone had Alex’s erection warring with his zipper. Lifting an arm, he tangled his fingers in Dane’s gelled locks and held that hot mouth against the crook of his neck, the nips and kisses revving all the right motors. Their bodies continued to move together, more rocking than swaying, one of Dane’s hands drifting lower to tease the crease where hip met leg, then dragging up the side of his dick straining behind his fly. Arm going limp, Alex lowered his hand out of Dane’s hair and down his smooth cheek. Dane angled his face so he could catch two of Alex’s trailing fingers in his mouth, sucking.
Alex burned alive, the sensory overload too much and not enough. He bucked back hard, chasing more, and buried his face in Dane’s neck, groaning, tasting, wanting to crawl inside.
Dane released his fingers with a pop. “Fuck, Alejandro, please.”
Now that was the way Alex liked to hear his name roll off Dane’s tongue. Gravelly, wrecked, with a ragged curse and needy plea on either side. That voice, combined with the other signals Dane was sending . . . If they weren’t in a room full of other people, Alex would have dropped to his knees right then and given them both what they so desperately wanted. Needed. But they weren’t alone, and there was something else Alex wanted more. Needed more. He lifted his face, and hidden behind the brim of the cap, Dane gave it to him, bringing their mouths together after ten long years apart.
And it was even better than Alex remembered. Dane kissed like every meeting of their lips was the last, full of desperation and longing. He’d never been allowed to have this, to be who he was, and Alex just as desperately wanted him to understand it didn’t have to be that way. Hand to his face, he gentled the kiss as he turned in Dane’s arms. Chest to chest, Alex coaxed a needy moan out of Dane, the contented sound settling deep in Alex’s soul, beginning to stitch together the tears left behind a decade ago. Alex slid his tongue between Dane’s lips, and Dane met him with eager caresses, against his tongue and over his body. Chest, shoulders, back, ass, hauling him closer as their bodies rocked together.