prostate, lights dance in my vision. It happens again. And again. “Os,” I cry out. Everything else that leaves my lips are noises and grunts and heavy breaths.
But my head is one giant chant. Os. Os. Os. Os.
A climax annihilates me, and it takes me a second to realize I released in his palm. With all the confidence in the world, Oscar grabs a towel and wipes off my cum. He kisses the edge of my lips, and I fall onto my shoulder blades, both hands on my head.
He grins. “Not gonna lie, you enjoyed that way more than I expected.”
I laugh in a pant. “Am I your biggest surprise?”
“Oh yeah, every fucking day, Highland.”
I eye his erection. “I can—”
“Just catch your breath.” Oscar stands near the foot of the bed, and he strokes himself a couple times. I heat up, and I watch this gorgeous guy come with another firm tug. His muscles flex, and he grits down on his teeth, eyes almost rolling.
I only wish his orgasm was closer to me and from my body or hands. “Now I feel like I’ve missed out on something.”
He uses the same towel to clean up, his grin rising again. “Maybe next time, Highland.”
Next time. I want the hot-and-cold just to be boiling hot between us. I want to reassure Oscar so the window flies fully open and I can climb all the way through. But I’m not sure how to do that without a major declaration.
One that could change my entire life.
Am even ready to tell my parents I’m not straight? To tell Jesse? To tell all of Oscar’s friends and everyone else we know?
My throat closes.
Inhale. Exhale.
I breathe out and let those concerns go for tonight.
Oscar comes back to bed. Lying next to me, he reaches over my chest to pull the cord to a lamp. “It’s five a.m.,” he says. “You should get some sleep.”
We both should.
But we’re awake another hour. We lie on our sides, hug each other’s frames, and whisper about his job, my job—the top-secret aspects that we can’t really share with other people. Details about the famous families. If we discuss sex, we might actually do more, so we make a concerted effort not to bring up what just occurred.
We talk until we put the moon to bed and wake the sun. Bright rays cast over the loft, the bed, us. Sleep catches up. Sleep that I don’t want but my body demands.
And finally, our eyes begin to shut.
21
OSCAR OLIVEIRA
This motherfucker.
I stare with a strained wince at Gabe Montgomery in the Studio 9 Boxing & MMA Gym. The new temp I’m training acts like his head was screwed on ass-backwards.
“But like…” He rubs his temple. “If I’m in front of the client in a crowd, how do I see them?”
Leaning a hip against a boxing bag, my Cheeto freezes halfway to my mouth. “You can glance over your shoulder, Gabe.”
He shakes his head, wavy blonde locks falling across his pale white forehead. “But wouldn’t it just be like easier to walk behind the clients?”
I slowly chew and take out my aggravation on my Cheeto. “Then how are they going to make it to the door?” I ask. “They can’t push through paparazzi and crowds like you can.”
Gabe’s delts are the size of honey baked hams. This kid is only twenty-two, same age as Quinn, and he’s built like a bulldozer. Security doesn’t usually hire guys this built because their endurance tends to be in the gutter, but Gabe passed all the entry-level tests.
Too bad he’s an idiot.
“Huh,” Gabe ponders all of this. “So…I make the path?”
I nod slowly and pop another Cheeto in my mouth. Kitsuwon Securities needs a good batch of temps to run efficiently, which means all of us on Omega have to clock in time training new guys. So while I’m here teaching Tweedledum, Charlie Cobalt is in New York with another temp on his detail.
I just hope Gabe can retain some of the shit I’m throwing at him. He can’t be such a lost cause if Thatcher Moretti referred him to Kitsuwon Securities. Apparently, he’s fresh out of the Navy and friend of a friend of a family member. If you ask me, we’re scraping the bottom of the barrel these days.
I glance at my watch. We’ve been working through basics for the past three hours while Studio 9 is closed to security only. We’re the only ones here right now.
“Give me twenty laps around the gym,” I tell Gabe.