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I grumble in annoyance, my hands scraping over the top of my head in frustration for my inability to control my hormones. Watching that man and woman on stage was arousing. Sitting beside Drake while it happened heightened it somehow. Then the man touched her ass, and I couldn’t handle it any longer. I was close to jetting in my jeans like a damned teenager just witnessing it. Then Drake had to follow me into the restroom while I was trying to get a grip on myself.
“Ah!” I growl, pulling my hair in irritation.
It feels like sabotage, the way I keep getting caught with Drake, as if the man is somehow orchestrating the chance encounters where we get caught by Cerberus members.
I know it’s a crazy thought. I know I’m just making up excuses because Drake is right. I’ve been the one putting the two of us in compromising situations. It’s my lack of control around him that has caused all of this.
I don’t think Drake is the type of man that would go out of his way to set me up like that.
He is, on the other hand, the type of man that would do anything with anyone. I’m nothing special. Had it not been my dick Drake was touching tonight, it would’ve been someone else’s. Or a woman, since Drake plays both sides of the field.
The incredibly messed-up part is none of that makes me want him any less. I just don’t want everyone knowing about it.
I might be able to justify my recent behavior if it were leading to that one chance at happiness I don’t let myself imagine very often. If I were closing in on my own happily ever after then maybe I could justify acting like I can’t control myself, but it’s not. Drake isn’t that man for me. Hell, Drake isn’t that sort of man for anyone.
I freeze at the gentle knock coming from the door separating our rooms. I’ve only been back to the hotel for ten to fifteen minutes. Him being back in his room already means he didn’t leave Hale-ish very long after I left.
He didn’t stick around to sow his wild oats or go flirt with Dylan, the utterly sexy bartender.
The knock is a little heavier the second time, and with it comes whispering too low for me to understand from the other side of the room.
I inch closer in that direction, curiosity getting the better of me.
I open the door, hating how hard my heart pounds at the sight of him.
The man is an addiction I never asked for.
“I figured you’d stay behind and do something with that black band of yours,” I mutter like a jealous petulant child.
“The man I want, the man that’s been driving me crazy for months, left. There was no point in sticking around.”
His words hit me in the chest. I try and fail not to let them sink inside of me. I suspected the man of just going with the flow, taking whatever was offered to him no matter or distinction of who was handing it out.
“You’re wasting your time,” I tell him.
The man has to know I’m not going to get involved with him. He needs to understand that I’m not playing hard to get. I could never be anything more than a handful of mistakes where he’s concerned.
“I understand that you’re not out yet,” he says, the smile on his face small and annoyingly understanding.
“In the closet implies that there’s something to confess. I assure you there isn’t. Cerberus wouldn’t bat an eye at the news if Max decides to tell anyone what he walked in on.” I know it to be true when the words leave my mouth. “They aren’t the type of organization that has a problem with men being involved with men.”
“I figured them finding out is why you’re so standoffish and secretive.”
“It’s not,” I mutter. “I don’t want to be gay.”
To his credit, Drake doesn’t snap his head back in disgust. He gives me another small smile, one I interpret as understanding.
“It won’t stop it from being true.”
“I’m not in denial about my urges, Drake. I just can’t act on them.”
That small smile transitions to a flat line before curving down into a frown.
“I’ve known for a very long time what I am. I’ve gotten very used to living with the guilt of it.”
Chapter 14
Drake
“Guilt?” I ask.
This poor fucking man.
Although I knew by the early age of twelve that I liked both boys and girls, I hid that part of me for a very long time. My parents weren’t the type to accept anything other than what they considered normal. They didn’t voice those opinions very often, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to watch their faces when they saw same-sex couples out in public together. They weren’t brazen enough to speak out against them, but just the curl of their lips in disgust was enough to keep my lips sealed and my closet door pulled tightly closed. Having a son that could just as easily bring home a man to family dinner as a woman wasn’t something to be celebrated in that household.
