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As soon as she’s gone, I lever myself out of the chair to go find Dean.

Liam stops me by saying, “Look, if you’ve got a claim on Dean, I can tell Zed to back off. I don’t want any trouble here. It would upset Ravi.”

“Wouldn’t want to upset Ravi.” I’m sure I sound bitter when I say it, but the truth is Ravi’s a good kid. And good for him, bagging the hot military dude twice his age of his dreams. However that saying goes.

“There’s nothing going on between me and Dean,” I argue.

Nothing other than the crush I had freshman year, and the past couple of years of bringing Dean down from a nightmare by putting him on his knees and calling him a pretty whore.

Completely standard stuff you’d do with someone who, under different circumstances, might’ve ended up your brother-in-law.

Even if my protest were believable? The way I deflate in relief thirty seconds later when Zed and Dean come out of the house and neither of them look disheveled or fucked out does nothing to help my case.

Liam’s undeterred. “No judgment, but don’t the two of you both have sex with other people all the time? You’re both escorting still, right?”

“Right.”

“So you look like you swallowed thumbtacks because…?”

Liam seems like a nice enough guy, but I’m not getting into the way Dean’s hopes and fears and private feelings are mine alone with this guy. Bad enough I’ve let my usual mask slip.

Carefully, I slide it back into place. “Probably put too much hot sauce on my burger. Told you, nothing’s going on.”

Then I make my way over to Dean, carefully avoiding Liam’s too-knowing gaze.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Dean

I’m coming out of my client’s swanky condo bathroom when someone knocks on the door.

“I’ll get it.”

Kevin, one of my regulars, is pouring a drink at the wet bar. “I assume that’s Christian? Be sure to give him a hard time about being late.”

It’s an inside joke, sort of. He and Christian sort of bonded over their hatred of being late, so anytime Christian is the last to arrive, he gives him shit.

So, I open the door with “Hey, asshole, you’re late.”

Standing there, looking far too good in his navy suit, is Michael. No tie. Collar open at the throat.

What is he doing here? Why did Brennan send the only person whose presence here could undo me?

It’s fine. I’m fine. Perfectly professional.

“You’re not Christian.” Nice, dumbass.

Michael gives me a grin. The one that makes his dimples pop. “Christian couldn’t make it. I’m filling in.”

The way he’s looking at me now, smiling as if he’s pleased to be here, you’d think our argument a couple of nights ago never happened. Except I know it did, because that was the last time he slept in my bed. Since then he’s gone back to his own apartment one floor up. Or I assume that’s where he’s been.

I hope. Right or wrong, I don’t want to think of him spending his nights with someone he might like better. Even the boyfriend experiences make me itchy, but it makes me queasy to think of Mike having sleepovers with someone other than me and not getting paid.

I grip the door handle, still trying to get my brain to process. “You only do boyfriend experiences.”

“Brennan’s working with a shallow bench right now. He mentioned he needed someone to fill in.” He lifts his eyebrows expectantly. “You going to let me inside?”

There’s a loaded question. If he’s here, he’s here to fuck me, which… Lord help us all.