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And that…well, that is the damn truth.
We can do this.
Not if you keep looking at me like that, I think.
We can do this.
I said it to him, but that statement was for me. Yet another attempt to convince myself I can be around Davis and feel nothing. Not one damn thing. No hatred. No contempt. Absolutely no desire. Definitely no desire. Positively no desire.
Because dammit, that’s all I feel right now. Coursing through my veins, desire for him. To be near him. To inhale his clean scent. To hear his deep, growly voice. To let my eyes linger on that gold skin of his, on those large, powerful hands. I want to feel those long fingers laced with mine, clutching, clinging, squeezing as he loses control.
And those eyes. His eyes are beautiful. I’m not sure I’ve really noticed them before. Or maybe I hadn’t allowed myself to notice before. Golden hazel. Golden like the rest of him.
Those eyes are on me now. Traveling across my face. Lingering on my lips. They lock onto mine again and I can’t bear it.
“We have to do this,” I say, and the spell is broken. It had to be, right?
He unwinds from the passenger seat of my Bronco, and I watch him. Those long legs flow into his apartment building with ease, and I continue watching. How long did my eyes remain fixated on his body? I’m still facing the doors long after he disappears from view.
He never looks back. Good thing. He would have totally busted me. “Just making sure you got inside safely,” I would have said. Ha! Lame excuse. He would know it.
But enjoying looking at him doesn’t translate to enjoying him. Not as far as he needs to know, anyway. He knows he’s hot. Doesn’t he? I wonder for a moment if he truly does. He doesn’t walk around with the swagger of a man who is aware of such things, which, of course, only makes him hotter.
I pull into the parking garage of my hotel and sit in my car for a moment. I close my eyes and allow myself a few more moments with Davis’s hand filling my head. A sudden vision flashes—a vision of that hand gripping both our cocks, pressing them together and stroking firm and slow. The way he did that night so many years ago. God, that memory has become too distant. But his cock. I remember his cock. I dream about that cock. That subtle upward curve when he’s hard. Those thick veins pulsing against my tongue.
I’d been rock hard nearly the entire drive to his apartment. I caught him looking at my thigh, but he tore his eyes away. I only hope his aversion to looking at me prevented him from noticing the bulge in my pants. He didn’t react if he did. I shift in my seat to relieve the uncomfortable pressure. Then I press my palm firmly against my cock and take a deep breath. That look before he left the confines of my vehicle. That look said he’s fighting the same urges I am. Does he think about me? Does he jack off to memories of that night in his apartment?
Does he wish it could happen again? Cause Goddammit I do.
If we have to do this…co-exist, be cordial to one another, behave like adults… then we can’t do that.
Our offices are across the street from one another. Hell, when the project is done, I won’t really need to be there at all, will I? He travels all the time. Ships that pass in the night, and occasionally wave during the day. We can do that. Sure, we can.
The throbbing in my pants disagrees. My dick is so hard. Thoughts of jacking off right here in the parking deck has me reaching for my zipper. No. I shake my head. Jesus. I can certainly make it up to my room.
I steal a glance at the hotel bar as I stroll past. I don’t want a drink. I want Davis. I want Davis in every way imaginable. I’m not sure which of those things is more dangerous.
Chapter ten
“Hi there.” I feel a small hip bump against me. I already know who it is.
“Hi,” I look down at Devyn and offer her a smile. She’s not here by accident, of that I am reasonably certain, even though she does frequent Sammie’s. All of us do as much as we can. At least we did. But Devyn’s focus has been on the new complex and what it means to her and her junior league teams. She’s busier now than during her days as PR director for the Grizzlies.
She leans onto the bar and turns to face me. “How are you?”
I exhale. It’s a rhetorical question. She knows damn well how I am. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t. “Which of your husbands have you spoken to today?”
She chuckles. “Well, I do generally make it a practice to speak to both of them daily.”
I smile at her. Devyn Mitchell Holt Michaels — or is Michaels Holt? The marriage license has Levi’s name on it. But Brady loved her first.
Devyn and I go way back, more than a decade now, of friendship and looking out for each other. She is easily hands down the most amazing woman I have ever known.
I hear the occasional derogatory whisper about her being a slut married to two men. But those comments are from jealous women. Women who would kill to be in her position. Women who could never handle it. I have a different view. I view it as her being such a strong, independent woman that it takes two powerful men to satisfy her. The reality is Brady, Devyn and Levi have a marriage filled with love and respect for one another that I can’t help but admire, and possibly yearn for.
With Carter? Marriage, a life shared with another human being. Carter. Me and Carter?
“I was just told you have been holding too tightly to a lot of shit for way too long and you could probably use a friend.”
