21. Gavin

TWENTY-ONE

gavin

I KNEW DAIRE would be a tough nut to crack, but this was ridiculous.

I’d paraded around in tiny briefs, rubbed myself against him, teased and tormented him for days, and where had it gotten me?

Alone in bed, that was where, lying alone and pumping my dick to the memory of him doing the same in his shower. He hadn’t even bothered denying he’d been thinking of me. God, that was hot.

I knew Daire would be packing behind his jeans, but seeing him naked, all that water running down his strong, defined body… It was a miracle I hadn’t melted on the floor. It was lucky his eyes had been closed while I watched, because I’d had time to wipe the drool off my chin and adjust my erection before he realized I was there.

Weeks ago I never would’ve thought twice about the bad boy of our group, and now he was all I could think about.

Something had to give. It was clear he wanted me but was resisting for whatever reason made sense to his complicated brain.

I needed a different approach. A way to force his hand before I ended up making a fool of myself and climbing him like a tree.

So I made a phone call, put on a suit that hugged my ass and showed off the outline of my hips in an indecent way, and called out for Daire to answer the door when Trevor arrived that night.

“Get it yourself,” he called back.

“But I’m not wearing pants.” A lie, obviously, but one that had Daire grumbling as his booted feet clomped toward the door.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” he grumbled.

I smiled at myself in the full-length mirror and ran my fingers through the front of my hair so it would sit right. “No, but you can be a pain in mine…”

Taking my time, I listened closely as Daire let Trevor inside, and my date tried to make friendly conversation.

“You must be Daire. We haven’t officially met.” There was a long silence, and I wondered if Trevor was getting a scowling stare-down. When he cleared his throat and let out a small chuckle, I knew I was right. “Not the handshake type. I get it. No problem.”

Daire grunted, and I rolled my eyes. He wouldn’t deign to even shake Trevor’s hand? What a grumpy bastard.

But a hot grumpy bastard.

“Will Gavin be out soon?” Trevor asked, his voice not coming out quite as confident as it had when he first entered.

“Don’t know.”

Another awkward silence passed, and I figured it was time to put Trevor out of his misery. And continue #OperationTortureDaire, of course.

I spritzed a little cologne on my wrists and behind my ears and then swung my door open wide. “Trevor, you’re looking gorgeous tonight.”

Both men whirled in my direction, and while Trevor’s eyes brightened when he saw me, Daire’s only narrowed.

Ignoring the grouchy one for the man actually smiling, I greeted Trevor with a kiss to his cheek that I let linger a little longer than usual.

“Well, hey there.” When he gave my waist a squeeze, I leaned into it, rubbing against him. “You look…amazing.”

“Thank you. Good enough to eat?”

“Definitely.”

I could feel the glower coming from Daire’s direction like laser beams. I knew how antagonistic I was being, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and my patience was at the end of its rope.

Running my hand down Trevor’s chest, I fingered the buttons of his collared shirt. “So where are we heading off to?”

“I got us a reservation at Neon Fig. It’s supposed to be impossible to get, but all I had to do was say my name, and…” He snapped his fingers and grinned proudly.

I’d been there more times than I could count, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. “Impressive,” I said, dropping my hand to tease at his belt. I could’ve sworn I heard a growl come from behind me, and I tried to suppress a satisfied grin.

“And get this.” Trevor reached into his pocket and held up a key. His excitement was palpable. “I got a new ride this week. A badass Aston Martin Vanquish. Holy shit, it’s so smooth, it’s like a lightweight rocket. Zero to sixty in three-point-six seconds and up to two hundred miles per hour. I’ve got a friend in the NYPD who gives me a heads-up where to take it for a spin. I’ll give him a call tonight and see where we can go.”

My smile dimmed a little, but I forced it back into place. Great. The guy was obsessing over his car more than me. That wasn’t part of my plan. “Nice.”

“Right?” Trevor said, turning toward Daire. “Isn’t that awesome?”

With a blank expression on his face, Daire deadpanned, “So fucking awesome.”

My date wasn’t catching on to the disinterest, however. “It’s only a two-seater, but I can always take you for a ride another time⁠—”

“He’s not interested,” I said, reaching up to turn Trevor’s face back to mine. “But I am. I’d love to be taken for a ride.”

“Then it’s a good thing I made sure we had enough time to drive around before we have to be there,” Trevor said, and Daire snorted.

Good lord, Trevor was not picking up what I was putting down. I needed him to get on board and flirt back, for God’s sake.

“Isn’t that adorable,” Daire said, amusement lacing his voice. “A little chauffeur action and sharing pasta on a date.”

Smartass. He might’ve been giving remarks in jest, but I had a feeling that, underneath it, this exchange was rubbing him wrong.

Good.

“Adorable isn’t the word I’d use. Sexy is.” Pushing my luck, I lowered my arm behind Trevor, running my hand over the curve of his ass as I glanced back at Daire.

If he was bothered at all, he was doing a helluva job not showing it. He raised a brow as if to say, Is that all?

What a liar. He wanted me, I knew it, and once this door shut, he’d probably pace the room or bust out the alcohol until I got home. I’d have to make sure to drag this out to wind him up even more.

“Ready to ride?” Trevor asked, and I tried not to cringe. The attractive actor had nosedived quickly in my mind into someone overeager and car-crazy, and that wasn’t what got my rocks off.

But Daire didn’t need to know that.

“Hard and fast, right?” I grinned at Trevor as he took my hand, and then looked over my shoulder to wink at Daire. “Don’t wait up.”

“I WAS LOOKING at a Lamborghini Gallardo or Aventador too, but everyone in Hollywood has one of those. Here too.” Trevor stopped only to take a sip of his soda before continuing. “There are a few with Aston Martins, but not many have a Vanquish.”

“I see. So you’re special,” I said, and sighed when the waiter passed yet again without asking me if I needed a refill.

I did.

“More like unique. Rare. Especially with the color—I mean, how often have you seen one in Viridian Green around here? It’s so badass.”

“You know, I didn’t realize you were so into cars.”

“I mean, aren’t you? You probably have a hundred in a private garage, huh?”

Wrinkling my nose, I lifted my glass as the waiter passed by again, with no luck. “No. I have a driver.”

“You don’t have a car? Not even one?”

I shrugged. “Why bother?”

“Uh, because you can afford something killer. Because it’d be something of your own.”

“Guess it’s not really my thing.”

“Not really your—” Trevor’s gaze went toward the window to where the valet had parked his car so he could have a prime view watching over it. Which was all he was doing on this date. I hadn’t expected that.

“What the hell?”

The alarm in Trevor’s tone made me look out the window to see what the problem was. Maybe someone had looked at his car wrong.

A couple of police officers stood beside Trevor’s precious new purchase, motioning for the tow truck with amber lights flashing to back up to the front of it.

“Are they—” Trevor choked, his eyes darting around the scene in horror. “They can’t tow my car. Why would they do that? Fuck.”

As he shot to his feet and ran out of the restaurant, something niggled in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t place it. I watched as Trevor ran down the sidewalk waving his hands to get the tow truck to stop. He gestured toward the car and seemed to be pleading his case to the officers, but with the way they were shaking their heads, it didn’t look like it was working.

Well, shit. There went our night.

I was debating whether to get another drink, a double this time, or if the check would be better, when the thought percolating in my mind sprang to the forefront.

Wait a second.

Trevor had used valet when we arrived. Why would they park his car somewhere it could be towed? There were no other cars around getting towed⁠—

Because there were no other cars parked nearby.

Because the signs above his Aston Martin clearly said no parking.

But that didn’t make any sense. Clearly we needed to talk to a manager and get this all sorted with the valet drivers, because this shit was unacceptable.

Awareness slammed into me like a gunshot to the chest then, pinning me to my seat before I could move.

This wasn’t a coincidence. This was a setup.

I knew it deep in my gut, and no one could convince me otherwise.

It wasn’t the first or even tenth time I’d been to this restaurant, and who else had joined in on at least half of those visits?

Daire.

And who knew where we were going and what Trevor’s car looked like, down to the details?

Daire.

Who was the one person who’d want to ruin my date to get back at me for spending the last week teasing and tormenting his ass, and also had the means to do it?

Motherfucking Daire.

A string of curses flooded my mind as I glanced back out at a hysterical Trevor pulling at the ends of his hair in frustration.

Screw the waiter. I wasn’t gonna sit around and wait for his ass to show up.

Getting to my feet, I pulled out a few bills, more than enough to cover what we’d had, and slid them between the square glass candle holders in the center of the table.

I thought I’d finally push Daire to my way of thinking with my stunt tonight, but he’d managed to get ahead of me and ruin my plan.

And now, instead of kissing him, all I could think about doing was kicking him. Hard and somewhere he wouldn’t easily recover from.