I can’t face him. Can’t look into those knowing eyes. Can’t hear whatever he’ll say about what happened between us.
Moving with stealth I didn’t know I was capable of, I slip out of bed and gather my scattered clothes from the floor. Each second feels like an eternity as I pull on my jeans, not bothering with the rest. I’ll dress properly once I’m safely away.
At the door, I pause for one last look. Theo looks peaceful, beautiful even in the dim light, his dark curly hair spread across the pillow. My chest tightens, but I push the feeling away.
No one can know about this. Ever. Whatever happened last night was a mistake. A one-time thing. A momentary bout of insanity.
I slip out the door, closing it silently behind me, and head for Julian’s front door.
Before I can make my escape, I realize I’m still half-naked. Shit. I can’t exactly walk through the lobby of Julian’s upscale building looking like I just got mauled. I duck into the nearest bathroom, flicking on the light and wincing at my reflection. Scratches. Hickeys. Beard burn in places I never thought I’d have it.
“Fuck,” I mutter, splashing cold water on my face.
I pull on my shirt, noticing the wrinkles and faint scent of Theo still clinging to the fabric. My hands shake slightly as I button it, fingers fumbling with each one. I slide on my socks, shoes, grab my wallet and phone.
Outside Julian’s door, I pull out my phone and order an Uber. Five minutes. I take the elevator down, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor, avoiding the knowing look from the night doorman.
The ride is mercifully quiet. The driver tries small talk, but my grunted responses shut that down quick. My mind races with images I can’t shake—Theo’s body, his mouth, the sounds he made when I was inside him.
I scrub my hand over my face. This can’t happen again. My world doesn’t work like that.
In two hours, I’ll be at my fight club, surrounded by men who would never understand. Fighters who usefaggotas their favorite insult. Men who define themselves by how masculine they are, how tough, how straight. My reputation is built on being the alpha among alphas. The owner everyone respects and fears.
What would they think if they knew their boss had spent the night with another man’s legs wrapped around his waist?
The driver pulls up to my building. I mutter thanks and hurry inside, already planning my shower—hot enough to burn away the evidence of what I’ve done.
My fight club is a temple to masculinity. Testosterone and aggression hang in the air like fog. There’s no room for what happened last night. No space for the way Theo made me feel.
I slam my apartment door shut and lean against it, closing my eyes. My mind betrays me with flashes of last night—Theo’s hands, his mouth, the weight of him on my lap.
Damnit.
The truth I can’t face crashes into me all at once. It was the best sex of my life. Better than any woman I’ve ever had. The way Theo responded to me, the sounds he made when I was inside him?—
“No.” I say it aloud, my voice harsh in the empty apartment.
I push off from the door and stalk to the bathroom, stripping as I go. I turn the shower to scalding and step under the spray, willing the heat to burn away these thoughts.
But it doesn’t work. Instead, I remember Theo in Julian’s shower, water running down his lean body as I took him against the tiles.
My cock hardens instantly, and I slam my fist against the shower wall. What is happening to me? One night with a man, and suddenly my body won’t listen to reason?
I grab the soap and scrub my skin raw, as if I could wash away the memory of his touch, his taste. But the harder I scrub, the more I remember. The softness of his skin. How well his body fit against mine. The way he called meDaddyand nearly made me lose my mind.
I’ve never lost control like that with anyone. Never wanted someone so badly that I forgot who I was supposed to be.
And that’s what terrifies me most. I had a taste of something I never knew I wanted, and now? Now I’m afraid I’ll crave it again. Crave him again.
I rest my forehead against the cool tile, water streaming down my back. What does this make me? Not straight—no straight man would have done what I did last night. But I’m not gay. I can’t be. My whole life, my business, my reputation...everything is built on being an alpha male.
Yet one night with Theo has shaken the foundation of everything I thought I knew about myself.
I drag myself through my morning routine on autopilot. Protein shake. Clothes. Keys. By the time I pull into the parking lot behind my fight club, I’ve convinced myself I can compartmentalize. Lock last night away. Focus on work.
The familiar smell of sweat and disinfectant hits me as I push through the back door. Normally, it centers me. Today, it just reminds me of Theo’s scent after our third round.
“Morning, boss!” Jonah calls from the ring. He’s one of my up-and-comers, scheduled for training at seven. Kid’s dedicated, always early.
