by Kora Knight
“For after dinner,” Scott chuckled. “I brought stuff to make.”
Tad’s brows shot up. “You’re gonna make me dinner two weeks in a row?” Leading the way, he hit the outdoor stairwell. “What’s the occasion?”
“No occasion. Was in the mood for fajitas so I googled a recipe. Figured you’d make the perfect test subject.”
Tad tried to feign offense, his wry voice echoing off the concrete walls. “You break my taste buds and I break you.”
Without warning, he was spun around and shoved up against a wall. Scott grinned down at him, amusement in his eyes. “Why you always gotta be threatening my ass?”
Tad blinked up at him. God, he forgot how big the guy was. His cocky smile wavered, overwhelmed by the close proximity. And that penetrating gaze. “’Cause you still don’t… think I can take you.”
Scott lifted an incredulous brow. “You seriously think you can overpower me?” Eyes glittering, he pressed his cock against Tad’s gut. His really big, rock hard cock.
Whoa. That bold business back on the phone was one thing, but now they were, shit, only inches apart. And Scott wasn’t chilling out in the slightest. If anything, he was upping his game. Tad wondered if last week’s little romp had boosted the dude’s bravado.
Restless energy pumped through his veins. Nervousness, yeah, but also excitement. Because Tad was definitely enjoying this side of the guy. Suspected he’d enjoy it even more once they weren’t in public.
Body heating, he forced a confident grin. “I don’t think it’s impossible. Just need a bit of strategy.”
Scott held his gaze, then dropped those chocolate eyes to Tad’s mouth. A rough little rumble vibrated in his throat. “I would so love to see you try.”
Tad shifted against the wall. “Before or after dinner?”
An apartment door shutting resounded overhead. Then footsteps heading for the stairs. Scott grinned and stepped back. “It certainly would make one hell of an appetizer.” He glanced up as two people descended into view.
Tad shoved off the wall and sank his hands into his pockets, sidestepping the couple as they passed. “Don’t get your hopes up,” he murmured, reassuming the lead. “My place’s got about as much space to move in as a fucking walk-in closet.”
“I’m sure we can make do.”
Tad chuckled and shot Scott a look over his shoulder. “Not even going to ask.”
“Probably wise,” Scott grinned, following him up the remaining stairs and down to his humble abode. “I can get pretty creative.”
“I think creative it putting it mildly.” Unlocking his door, he shoved the thing open.
“Not hearing any complaints,” Scott pointed out, following him inside.
Tad fought his growing smile, tossing his keys on the breakfast bar and his messenger bag on the couch. “Nope. No complaints.”
“Heard something during our phone chat, though. Something pretty damn hot.” His mien turned wicked smug as he sauntered into the kitchen.
Tad stilled, heat crawling fast up his neck. He hadn’t seen that one coming. But he should have. Scott’s bluntness was nothing new. He chewed his lip and shoved his thumbs into his pockets. Then wandered in after the guy. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “That was… definitely something.”
Scott turned to grin at him. “Definitely.”
Jesus, those eyes. Those fucking eyes. Promising forbidden bliss. Tad’s heart skipped a beat as he took a step back. But Scott hooked his belt loop and tugged him close, those full lips curving higher. “You didn’t come, did you?”
Brazen bastard.
Tad’s gut clenched tight and hot. “No. And my nuts are still paying the price.” His eyes narrowed. “Thanks to your creative idea.”
Scott coughed out a sheepish laugh. “Uh… yeah. My bad.” His free hand curled firmly around Tad’s hip. “I should redeem myself.”
Tad insides froze, then did a shimmy. He really hoped Scott wasn’t expecting a response. God only knew what’d come out of his mouth. Grinning, he shook his head. “Let’s see how you do with dinner first. If this tanks, too, we’re starting you a tab.”
He sank down to dig through a bottom cupboard, effectively severing Scott’s hold. Which was completely intentional. Those slow, kneading fingers were driving him nuts, stealing his self-control. God, the guy did crazy shit to his head, especially when so close. Like turning Tad into a nervous wreck. Seemed he struggled with that emotion a lot when Scott was in his space.
A part of him couldn’t help wondering, though, if it was more than simple nerves. Because every time Scott got him riled up, his whole body felt like it wasn’t just flailing, but tumbling heels-over-head. Aka crushing. Ridiculously hard. On a level he’d never experienced before. He’d only ever crushed one other time, and never had it felt this strong. Yeah, the girl had cluttered up his thoughts, but this thing with Scott? The guy made thinking flat-out impossible. Especially when so damn close. Dropping all that sex appeal like little fuck-me bombs.
Kind of like he was doing now.
Crouched in front of the cabinet, Tad glanced at Scott’s jean-clad shins. Crap. What was he looking for again? Brain completely blank, he scrubbed his face.
Scott’s toe tapped teasingly. “Jesus, shy boy. You setting up camp down there or what? All I need’s a frying pan.”
“Uh… ” Tad winced. “Was just… trying to figure out which size.”
Scott leaned down to peer inside. “But you only have one.”
Tad cringed and closed his eyes, fighting back a laugh. “Do you want my help or not?”
Scott chuckled and snagged a pan. “Would you threaten me again if I said no?”
Tad did laugh that time, standing up. “I’m offended.”
Scott snickered and glanced around. “You’re something alright. Now find me a cutting board and knife.”
Tad’s brows shot high. “I don’t believe I heard a please.”
Scott paused, turning to level him with one seriously intense stare. Tad stilled. Uh oh. Slowly, Scott’s grin curved into a smirk. “You want me to say please?”
Oh, no. Not that look.
Tad’s cockiness dissipated. “Um,” he chuckled, awkwardly scratching his cheek. “Y-yes?”
Scott’s lips twitched as he stepped nice and close. Tad steeled himself, determined to hold his ground. Not back up, not back down. The guy was fucking with him. Testing him or some shit. And damn it, Tad was due for a win. He lifted his chin and boldly held Scott’s gaze.
The dude’s eyes hooded “Hmm. Now I forgot what I was asking for.” Again, his attention dropped to Tad’s mouth. “Know what I want to ask for, though.”
Tad’s insides gave a happy purr. He knew what he wanted Scott to ask for, too. And it sure as hell wasn’t a cutting board. Because as nervous as the idea of kissing still made him, his desire to finally breach the unknown was quickly rising to critical.
In truth, it’d been quietly on the rise ever since that first brush of lips. That warm breath, that whisper of contact. Received while blindfolded and bound to a wall. After the most intimately erotic exchange of Tad’s entire existence. It’d knocked him off his axis and he’d been wobbling ever since.
Last week’s close encounter only made him reel harder, his mind reliving Scott’s almost-kiss more times than Tad could count. Like some weird little anxious obsession. A need to finally know. How those lips felt. And tasted. How that tongue liked to play. Would Scott go all hardcore and dominate, or take shit easy and slow. The speculating was driving Tad crazy.
His hungry hazels locked on Scott’s mouth. Fuck it. Just do it. Ain’t no time like the present. Licking his lips, he gave a slight shrug. “Well? Nothing’s stopping you. Ask away.”
Scott’s eyes shot up to search Tad’s intently, as if looking for a sign that he was joking. But he didn’t find one. Because Tad wasn’t playing. He saw the second Scott grasped that fact. A cool shade of ‘excited’ lit the guy’s features. Eyes flashing, he grinned and slowly
leaned closer, focus back on Tad’s lips. “Can I please have a—”
TURN DOWN FOR WHAT!! murdered the silence as Scott’s DJ Snake ringtone barked to life.
Scott stiffened. Tad jerked. Then cracked up laughing. He couldn’t help it. It was either that or punch a frickin’ wall. Seriously, what were the odds?
Scott stepped back and narrowed his eyes. “Shut up,” he muttered, trying not to smile as he pulled out and answered his phone. A second later, his gaze shifted away. “Hey, Dan. How you doing? … No, you’re good. What’s going on?”
Tad scratched his chin then busied himself with trying to find a cutting board.
“Ah, man,” Scott muttered. “That sucks…. Yeah. Yeah, of course…”
Tad glanced over his shoulder. Scott looked less than pleased, his hand making a lap over the top of his head, disheveling those dark chocolate spikes.
“No, no. It’s cool. I owe you one, anyway… No problem… Yup… Alright, bud. Later.” Scott ended the call then exhaled a curse. “Gonna have to grab a rain check. Gotta bolt.”
Damn. Hiding his disappointment wasn’t going to be easy. Tad so did not want him to go. Forcing a smile, he gave a nod and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Okay.”
Scott’s handsome face couldn’t have looked more contrite. “I’m sorry. The guy who teaches tonight’s kickboxing classes had an emergency. And since he’s covered me in the past I kinda owe him.”
Tad nodded again. “Totally understand. Shit happens.” Small shrug. “We’ll try it again some other time.”
Scott sighed and looked away—then went completely still. Smile reemerging, he turned back to Tad. “You should come.”
Tad blinked. “Do what?”
Scott chuckled and backed him into the fridge. “You. Should. Come.”
“To the classes you’re covering?”
His grin widened. “Uh huh.”
The guy’s expression suddenly made Tad wary. “I dunno…”
“Come on. It’ll be fun.” His dark eyes flickered mischievously. “You’ll finally get that opportunity to try and kick my ass.”
One lone brow jacked high in interest, then furrowed suspiciously with its twin. “You’re so gonna make me eat the mat in front of all your students.”
Scott barked out a laugh. “I should. But I won’t.” Curling his finger under Tad’s chin, his irresistible smile turned warm. “Come on. Sit in for my last one, at least. It starts at nine. Then we can hang out for a little while after.”
Tad couldn’t look away, was trapped yet again by that mesmerizing stare.
Slowly, Scott’s eyelids dropped to half-mast. “Please,” he murmured. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all week.”
Oh, Jesus. Game over.
Heart thumping, Tad nodded and gave a shrug. “Okay. I’ll go. Screw it. Why not.” His lips curved. “Who knows when another chance will come around to knock you off your big fat horse.”
“Right,” Scott laughed, ruffling Tad’s hair. Turning to go, he pointed to the groceries. “Next time. Dinner. I promise.”
Tad grinned and walked him out. “Unless you’re still hurting from the whoop-ass I put on you tonight.”
Again, Scott laughed. “Not likely. Oh, but that reminds me.” Turning in the hallway, he braced both hands on either side of Tad’s door, his dark eyes flashing. “My classes have been known to get pretty physical. So, don’t forget your cup.”
As luck would have it, their change of plans allowed Tad to meet up with his friends after all. Turned out they lifted weights at the same facility Scott taught his kickboxing classes. As coincidental as that seemed, Tad supposed it made sense that he and Scott had never crossed paths. After all, with Scott and him having the same night off, that put Tad in the one place every Tuesday that Scott most assuredly was not.
But not tonight.
After Scott left, Tad shot Jay a text letting him know he’d be able to come. Which was cool. Part of him had hated missing two weeks of lifting in a row. Not so much because of his friends. He saw them on weekends and occasionally after classes. But quality workouts? They came too seldom as it was. Maybe he could carve out some time at Scott’s to lift weights after class. But only if that chip was off Max’s shoulder.
He wondered if Scott ever found out what dickhead’s problem was. Why he’d gone all Jekyll and Hyde and shit when he sniffed out the fact that they’d fucked. Tad frowned just thinking about it. Talk about shit-ass memories.
Clearing his mind, he forced his brain back into the present. Specifically, back into the spacious weight room of GMU’s Fitness Center. Sweat and chlorine filled the air, as did the lively, thumping tempo of FloRida’s hot tune, Whistle.
Tad glanced down at his six-foot-two spotting partner. Poor Breck was seriously starting to sweat. All huffing and puffing, veins popping from his neck. Tad grinned and bit his tongue. Having joined his boys over an hour ago, it was nearly time to wrap things up. Perfect timing, too, given the amusing shade his friend’s face was turning as he struggled to lift his last set.
“C’mon,” Tad razzed, hands splayed just below Breck’s barbell. “Finish this, Grandma, or you’re doing two more.” Ah, God. He was starting to sound like Scott.
Golden eyes glared up at him, the dude’s teeth clenched and bared. “Fuck. You. Mitchel.”
Tad snickered. Screw it. Breck had always been the strongest in their group, and refused to let anyone forget it. But whatever. The dude did have the upper body of a god. Or at least an NBA superstar.
Not that he wasn’t striving to be one for real. He’d been playing b-ball every day for as long as Tad could remember. First JV, then varsity, now Division for GMU. Point guard, at that, the freaking show off, earning him his own little cheering squad.
Tad suspected his striking looks had something to do with that, too. Lovechild of an interracial marriage, his deep golden eyes, nearly shaved head, and flawless toffee skin made the dude look straight up exotic. And evidently, irresistible. The trail of broken hearts in his wake attested pretty clearly to that.
Breck, the Unattainable. Seriously, for as long as Tad had known the guy, he’d never once taken on a girlfriend. Just never seemed interested in keeping one in tow. Not that he didn’t get his fair share of sex. All of GMU knew that wasn’t the case. Which, naturally, spurred a stupid competition between him and good ole Ned.
Tad glanced at said rival a few feet away. Sapphire eyes fringed in black. Thick, dark, haphazard locks. They didn’t call Ned a pretty boy for nothing. And although he was youngest of the four, he definitely wasn’t the smallest. In mass or in mouth. Just shy of six feet, he had mean definition, and enough swagger to prove he knew it.
Tad smiled as Ned snarled through the last of his reps. The feisty fucker had a lot of heart. Which made him the perfect pastime wrestling buddy. Being that he wrestled in high school, too, the dude was actually a challenge. Jay and Breck? Not so much. But Ned always kept Tad sharp. Whether he wanted to be or not. Like a big ole bear cub, tackling his ass whenever he least expected it. Not that Tad really minded. After all, few things gave him greater satisfaction than making the punkass who just plowed him over tap-out like a little girl.
CRACK!
Tad jumped as Jay’s sweat rag snapped him in the side.
“Whatchu grinning for?”
Tad chuckled and returned the favor. “Was wondering if you or your spotter over there were ever gonna break two hundred.”
Jay made an affronted face. “One eighty’s no chump change, brah.” Behind him, Ned smirked and flipped Tad off. “Besides, perfection takes time.”
Breck grunted, toweling off his chest. “How much time? Jesus. It’s been two years.”
Tad barked out a laugh. “I think with Jayman, time is relative.”
Jay’s brows shot up indignantly. “I’ll show you relative.” He gave Tad another towel snap. “You butt munchers are all talk when we’re up here lifting. Funny how I don’t hear a peep when we’re downstair
s swimming laps.”
Which was true. Mr. Tall, Tan and Trim didn’t talk like a surfer titlist for show. In fact, that collar-length mane of golden ringlets was still bleached from his summer in Hawaii. Which is where he ran the pipes in the national championship. No, scratch that. Running the pipes was a wrestling term—for a technique Tad would love to use on Scott. Jay, however, had been surfing the pipe. Aka taking on one of the deadliest waves in the world. He didn’t take first place, but did rank in the top ten, which was pretty fucking impressive in Tad’s book.
Grinning, he yanked Jay into a headlock and scrubbed the guy’s scalp with his knuckles. “Touché, Ariel. Maybe we should be calling you tadpole.”
Jay laughed, shoving away. “Shit. I’m a great white, bitch. So, suck my great white dick.”
Ned cracked up laughing. Breck stood and shook his head. “More like a great white pain in my ass.”
“That’s right,” Jay beamed as they headed for the showers. “And I take great pride in that shit.”
Twenty minutes later, and a bit of goofing-off, they exited the locker room all squeaky clean. As was tradition, they’d be entourage’ing it next to the corner store to pick up a case of beer. Evidently, Ned’s roommate was out of town, so the festivities would be happening there. Not that Tad wouldn’t have normally offered his place. The guys just didn’t particularly care for getting kicked out before one. But unlike any of them, Tad worked in the morning. And wouldn’t be hanging with them tonight, anyway. He had somewhere else to be.
As they took a right and headed for the lobby, he glanced at his watch and stopped. “You know what? You guys go ahead. I’m think I’m gonna pass on the morning hangover.”
Jay turned around. “Dude. You know I make a primo Red Eye. I’ll hook you up with one bright and early.”
Tad grimaced. He’d resorted to Jay’s infamous concoction in the past. “As enticing as that sounds, I’m still gonna have to pass.” Shifting on his feet, he cleared his throat and thumb-pointed over his shoulder. “Besides, I told a buddy of mine I’d sit in on his kickboxing class.”