“Ignore Ash,” Ryder said mildly. “I caught him sneaking coffee this morning and removed it from his clutches. He’s been a bitch ever since.”
He and Ash exchanged looks again, and then Ash shrugged, some of the tension leaving his wiry frame.
“Guilty as charged.” He leaned forward and slapped Spencer on the chest with surprising force. “Let’s race, yeah?” He dropped a look to Spencer’s swim trunks. “Unless you need Ryder’s services before we do?”
“What? No. What?” Spencer pointedly didn’t so much as glance at the alpha in question. He wasn’t thinking of thigh tats or big arm muscles or massive alpha cock. Not at all.
Ash cackled, leaping up from the lounger and pulling Spencer after him. “Then let’s go. I bet I’m a faster swimmer.”
Ryder leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankle. “I’ll be here.”
His voice was as low and flat as ever, but the words still sounded sultrier than they should have. Like a dirty promise or something.
Or maybe that was all in Spencer’s head. It was getting really hard to tell anymore.
Spencer followed Ash to the lap lanes, more confused than ever. He was pretty sure ground rules had been laid, but nothing was any clearer than before.
And Ash and Ryder hadn’t said anything about Spencer not catching feelings—not once—but it must have been implied, right?
Right. They just assumed Spencer got it.
And he did. Definitely. No problem.
Everyone was totally on the same page.
9
RYDER
Ryder found Spencer in the shower.
It wasn’t hard to do—it turned out Spencer hummed obnoxiously as he rinsed off, loud enough to be heard over the regular buzz of the rec center’s locker room. And while the designated men’s alpha locker room had an open shower area for those who just wanted a quick wash, a few cubicles were separate, curtained off for those who preferred privacy.
Spencer had chosen wisely—one of the private cubicles.
Good boy.
Ryder stepped in quickly, shucking off his trunks and leaving them in the corner near Spencer’s. He was already half hard in anticipation of what was to come, and when Spencer turned at Ryder’s arrival—his loud humming cutting off abruptly—his gaze fell immediately to Ryder’s thickening cock. Then to his thighs. Then his cock again.
Spencer licked his lips, his eyes still focused somewhere about three feet below Ryder’s face. “Where’s, um, where’s Ash?”
Ryder jerked his thumb to the left. “Shower next door. He doesn’t feel like getting messy with us right now.”
Spencer did that bobblehead nod Ryder noticed he did when he got particularly flustered. “Oh, cool. Super cool.”
It was disturbing how badly Ryder suddenly wanted to fuck him.
He’d been watching Spencer all morning—him and Ash both. They’d raced each other like water demons and then both jumped between the pool and the loungers about a dozen times before Ash roped Spencer into a game of Speed on the loungers, the two of them dripping water onto Ryder’s favorite deck of cards.
It was good for Ash to have someone to match his energy that way. Ryder could keep up, but he was stationary by nature. More of a rock than a babbling brook. It had pleased him just fine to stay horizontal and sun-fucked while they ran around like children.
When Ash had finally dozed, he’d done it with his head slumped on Spencer’s shoulder as they lay side by side. Spencer hadn’t moved an inch after it had happened, staying frozen in place as if breathing the wrong way might fuck everything up.
It had kind of made Ryder want to kiss him stupid.
Instead, he’d gotten up slowly from his lounger, stretched his back muscles thoroughly, then leaned over Spencer, whispering in his ear, “Don’t worry, pretty boy. I’ll get you squared away before you leave today.”
Ryder had very obviously been referencing their earlier conversation, and Spencer hadn’t protested, hadn’t claimed he didn’t need relief or that he’d prefer to wait for Ash and his omega slick. He’d only flushed pink, swallowed hard, and given Ryder a jerky nod.
