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“Yes, you’re definitely wrong—there’s nothing angelic about him. Answer. The. Question.”
“He’s driving you crazy, isn’t he?”
“Fuck off, Wallace. Forget I called. I’ll ask Micah myself.”
“Oh! It’s Micah, is it?” Eli ribbed. “He’s straight as far as I know, Landon. Just remember one thing before you do whatever you’re about to do—if you play with fire, you might end up getting burned.”
“I’ll take my chances,” I answered and disconnected the phone. I wanted to hang up before I heard my son mumble another sleepy word in the background. Fuck that fucking Agent Wallace. I’d kill him if he hurt Ari.
While I was on the phone, Micah had decided it was the perfect time to start twerking with a couple of the fans, male hottie included, of course. This was a side of him I’d never seen before—not in person or on any of the videos I’d researched since accepting this case. He was normally quiet and reserved. His current actions certainly made me think he was putting on a show…for me. Well, he wasn’t the only one that could pretend or put on shows to impress. Eli had mentioned I might get burned if I played with Micah, but I had the feeling it was the boy-beauty that would end up getting burned. If he wanted to toy with the fact that I was bisexual, then I could play that game all night long…call his bluff, so to speak. I smiled. Yeah, I’d call his bluff and make him regret trying to play men games when he was only a boy.
I pushed away from the wall and walked toward the twerking group. Looking at Samson, I asked, “Is he finished for the night?”
His trainer rolled his eyes. “I think he was finished when he stepped off the elevator. I’ve never seen him act like this.” Samson looked toward the dancing group and continued, “I’m not impressed.”
“Me either,” I agreed. “How about I end this little party? Thanks for your help, Samson. You’re good for him.”
As Samson wrapped his gear up, I motioned toward the two security guys to get the fans lassoed into one group and then get them on the elevator. Micah’s silliness had gone on long enough. I was tired, pissed, and not in the mood to watch Micah rubbing asses with another man or woman. Later on, when I was back home and Micah was traveling the world, showing off his beauty, I’d ask myself why in the fuck I thought his ass belonged to me and only me. Yep, I’d deal with that shit much later. Right now, I had a lesson to teach to a very undisciplined young man.
Speaking of the undisciplined young man, I watched as he quickly said his flirty goodbyes to the disappointed fans before turning to give me the most wicked smile I’d ever seen on another human being. It was a fucking dare—a dare I wasn’t about to walk away from. Hell, yeah, somebody was about to get burned. Straight boy pretending to be bi-curious was a definite no-no in my book. Even as that thought crossed my brain, sending out every warning signal known to man, I knew I wanted him in the most carnal of ways.
“That was fun, right?” he said, wicked smile still frozen on his face. Fuck, even when he aggravated me, I found him attractive. There was an innocence and playfulness dancing in his eyes. For just a little bit, I could get lost in those eyes and find myself being placed in his they-swoon-over-me column.
“Nope, not fun at all,” I answered as I ushered him toward the elevator. Damnit, we’d be waiting forever before the elevator made its way back up to the rooftop. “Your workout wasn’t worth shit, your shorts, or what there is of it, barely covered your boy-bits, and you put yourself in an unsafe environment to just try and piss me off. Not my idea of fun, Micah.” Lies, lies, lies. Everything about Micah pushed my happy buttons.
If it was humanly possible for smoke to come out of someone’s ears, fire alarms would be going off all around us. His beautiful face contorted from wicked to shock and then to pure, old-fashioned fury—all within a second. As I stood there, debating on which look was the sexiest, I never even noticed his hand rise in the air. Hell, I didn’t know anything until his open palm cracked against my cheek.
“Fuck you, Gramps! I’m not a fucking boy and you know it! What’s wrong? Think I’m too much for you to handle? Is that why you insult me? Is that a weak man’s way of pushing me to the door?” He stepped closer to me, eyes blazing. “Just be man enough to say you aren’t interested; don’t hide behind insults.” He looked me up and down. “Boy-bits? Seriously? They say the first step to recovery is admitting your problems.” His angry gaze swept up and down me. “Admit you’re full of shit; it’ll make you feel much better.”
