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“Wish you would stop telling me what to do,” he mumbled, his tight behind swishing in his form-fitted jeans. Begging me to spread him open and—
Fuck, nope.
“You’ll stick to your word and talk to Jay, won’t you?” I called after him.
“Yeah, I said I would. Once he’s in a good mood. We’ve been together for so long I might be able to find a way to butter him up and forgive me after.”
I frowned. Did he do that often? Treat my son badly, then use his charms to get Jay to forgive him?
Something was wrong with this picture. Besides me putting my tongue down my son’s boyfriend’s throat. If only I could put my finger on it.
“Good night,” he said. “Thanks for helping out today.”
“No problem. You have my number. You need anything, you can call me.”
“Yeah, for Jay.”
Not really for Jay, but it was better for him to think that. “Right.” I put the helmet on and straddled the bike.
“Griff?”
He was worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. Those damn braces. I rubbed my bruised tongue over the roof of my mouth. I’d kiss him again.
“Yeah?”
“Umm, are you okay? I mean, do you have a place to stay? I—well, you can’t stay here, obviously, but I can maybe spring for a cheap apartment for you until—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Shit, his offer hit me in the feels. So many people I’d known before my time in the slammer had turned their backs on me. I couldn’t blame them either. Many felt uncomfortable, knowing the level of viciousness I was capable of.
“I can’t not worry about it. You’re Jay’s father, and I love him the most in the world. You already know that. He might not know it yet, but he’ll want to reconcile with you someday.”
I bit my tongue not to snap at him for what he was doing—kissing another man when he was so in love with my son. “If you really care about Jay, you should think about your actions in the future.”
He jutted out his chin. The stubborn streak was back. God, this was probably the most interesting side of him.
“I’m not sorry for what I did, and I don’t regret it. If I went back in time, I would do it again and again.” He spun on his heels.
I stared at his back, struck dumb. He unlocked the front door, slipped inside the house, and closed the door behind him. Minutes passed as I couldn’t look away from the spot where he’d been. What did he mean by that? He didn’t regret the kiss? How shameless.
Yet a thrill hummed in my veins. The kind of thrill that urged me to go to the door and knock. When he opened it, I’d kiss him again and again, just like he wanted.
“Jesus, Griff. Use your fucking brain, not your dick,” I whispered fiercely.
Maybe if he wasn’t so important to my son, I would have tested this unusual attraction. If I took him to bed, it’d probably knock some sense into me, show me that I couldn’t fuck another man. I wasn’t a stranger to ass play with women, but this was different. He was a man. He had a dick, and I’d never touched one of those except mine.
I gunned the motorcycle and sped out of the driveway, taking the interstate home—to my temporary home. Christ, he had offered to get me a new apartment. He was a bank teller. I didn’t imagine he made a lot. Would he have followed through had I accepted his offer? Not that I would have, but that was awfully nice of him.
How could someone that nice entertain the idea of sleeping with me when he was in a relationship with my son?
I shook off my confusing feelings toward Scottie. The night was too beautiful to waste trying to figure something out I probably would never understand. After being locked up for so long, it felt good to be back on my hog, the wind buffeting against my body as the familiar rush of time and place became nonexistent. Just a man on his motorcycle, living in the moment.
Too soon, I arrived at the apartment building where my friend, Douglas, lived. A confirmed bachelor, he had no intention of settling down anytime soon and had been more than happy to offer me his guest bedroom. Although he’d told me to stay for as long as I wanted, I needed to get the hell out as soon as possible. To regain the kind of freedom I’d been used to, I had to have my own place and make my own money.
I secured my bike and entered the apartment building with my helmet under my arm. The elevator was broken, and it took four flights of stairs to get to Doug’s place, but I didn’t mind the exercise. In prison, I’d worked out a lot to stem the boredom, but I hadn’t been to the gym once since I was released. I was already short on money from getting my bike.
I let myself in. For two men, the apartment was just big enough, but there was no room to maneuver much. The front door opened up to a short hall with the kitchen to the right and the living and dining room combo to the left. Doug had converted the dining room part into a storage area for the instruments he needed for his business as a disc jockey. He worked at a nightclub and traveled a lot. Tonight, he was off and sprawled out on the couch with a fat blunt between his lips, a slender, big-chested girl on his lap and another on the couch next to them.
As I entered, all eyes were on me. Doug grinned. “Griff, you’re right on time.” He placed a hand on the shoulder of the woman sitting on the couch and stroked her there. “Bree right here’s been waiting for you.”
