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Okay—that’s a damn lie. I do. But it doesn’t make any sense.
It must have something to do with mixing Soren and one of my favorite places. Feeling that damn joy of the amusement park with him by my side. I haven’t been to Worlds of Fun in a couple of years, but I used to go there regularly, even alone when Axel didn’t feel like it. I went so many times, just going around to my favorite rides and allowing myself to be that kid again—the one who wasn’t sick. Who didn’t have any responsibilities because I hadn’t solidified my spot on a racing team yet.
When Axel and I first got here, we worked odd jobs and had a good time. We lived in a shitty little apartment until we made it, and sometimes—God help me—sometimes I miss those times.
Before I had to worry about my image. Before it mattered whether people liked me or not. Don’t get me wrong, I love to race. I love my career. But I hate all the other bullshit.
Maybe that’s why I suggested Worlds of Fun when we couldn’t agree on a topic for his interview. That’s the last time I remember just getting to be me.
But it doesn’t explain why I had a dream about Soren, laid out completely naked for me. His fingers sliding over his body—one I haven’t even seen. One I’ve only ever seen in a buttoned-up suit until that day when he was forced to wear my casual clothes.
He looked way too damn good in my clothes.
And what the hell is happening to me?
I’ve never once questioned my sexuality. Not that I have a problem with any of it. Be who you are, wave that rainbow flag if that’s how you identify. I just never have before.
This has to be a one-off thing. A strange dream mixed up in all the emotions of having to do these interviews and Worlds of Fun. Seeing Soren let go a little bit and just have a good time.
Would he be like that in bed? Or would he be closed up and full of rules?
Shit. No. Stop thinking about Soren.
I scold myself even as I wrap my hand around my aching shaft. I try to pull up the memory of the last time I got laid.
It’s been a while, like three months. That also has to be why I’m suddenly extra horny. Makes sense.
But yeah, she was a flight attendant in... Pheonix. Yeah, I think so. Long blonde hair, blue eyes. Really straight teeth and big breasts. Really flirty and smiley. I liked the attention.
I start to stroke my cock, the soapy suds and water scaling over my body as I close my eyes and brace myself against the shower wall. She liked kissing. Kissed like crazy.
I don’t mind kissing so much, but I can usually take it or leave it.
I wonder if Soren is a fan of kissing. Would his lips feel like hers? They’re plump, that’s for damn sure, and they look pillowy soft.
Shit. I’m thinking about him again.
And no matter how hard I try, I can’t bring up the nameless blonde from Pheonix. Nope, when I shut my eyes tight and slide my hand over my rigid dick... when I cry out with a shout as cum shoots against the shower wall... it’s his face I see.
His dark, wavy hair and startling eyes, and a slight smirk on his cynical face. His sharp cheekbones with a hint of color at the top. His lips parting slowly as he pants, and I slam into his tight body over and over...
And holy shit, what the hell is happening to me?
I did not just come, thinking about fucking Soren when I was totally conscious of what I was doing.
It’s not even really the fact that he’s a guy. I mean, I’ve admitted when men are attractive before, even though I didn’t have the urge to fuck them—andthat,I could get past easily. To each their own. Fuck who you want when you want to. Fuck society and their labels, quite frankly.
But the fact that it’s Soren. Uptight. Cynical. Criticizing Soren. The guy who hates everything I stand for. Who wants the world to be rosy and sweet all the damn time. Who calls me reckless and says I’m a horrible role model.
Suddenly, I want to kiss him? To...
I try to shake that thought away and quickly rinse off before climbing out of the shower. I take my time drying off, shaving, and then getting dressed. The whole time trying to get Soren off my mind.
I manage to get ready just in time to grab my bag and tell the dogs goodbye before the car pulls up, and we head to the airport.
When I get to the line, I’m shocked completely stupid when I see Soren standing there, bag thrown over his shoulder, and of course, in a suit and tie and expensive dress shoes. “Soren?”
He turns to look at me, shaking his head with a snort. “Barely made it.”
