23. Daire

TWENTY-THREE

daire

MY WORDS HAD done their job. Gavin had fucked off for the night and left me alone, but my room no longer felt like a refuge. All of a sudden the music was too loud, too grating, and the night breeze blowing in from the open window too damn chilly.

Probably didn’t help that my dick was out, hard, and frustrated as hell.

With a curse, I stuffed it back inside my jeans, ignoring the ache that could’ve been easily rectified with Gavin’s mouth. I couldn’t stop the picture my mind conjured of him on his knees, deep-throating my cock the way he obviously wanted to. Those full lips would be even more swollen as they wrapped around me. I imagined the way his eyes would water as he took me so far into his mouth that he choked and still begged for more.

Fuck, that picture was sweet. It almost had me turning my stubborn ass around and giving in to temptation, but something held me back. As I slammed my door shut and then crossed the room to close the window, it occurred to me what the hell that was.

Donovan.

I didn’t claim to be a good guy or even decent, but I wasn’t fucked up enough to go behind Donovan’s back and mess with his brother. Even with the whole host of reasons why Gavin should’ve been off-limits, that was the one line I wouldn’t cross.

Or so I thought.

Because as I lay in bed that night, wide awake and refusing to get myself off out of sheer spite, I wasn’t even sure that was something that would hold me back much longer. With every hour that passed, more of my thinly held resolve crumbled, to the point that had Gavin slipped inside my room then, I’d be on him, inside him, faster than he could blink.

This was bullshit.

But I stayed put, hands clenched in my sheets and the minutes slowly crawling by. When my alarm went off, the exhaustion I expected to feel after not sleeping was nowhere to be found. Instead, it felt like someone had shot my ass with adrenaline. Clarity—or maybe it was no longer giving any more fucks—had struck sometime during the early-morning hours, and I was done avoiding the obvious.

Gavin had been right. I’d been saying no to him and denying what I wanted—fucking needed now—and that wasn’t me. I didn’t deprive myself. Not of anything. And I sure didn’t go to bed with my dick so hard it could pound through steel.

I wanted to make a mess of him. I wanted his body hot, sweaty, and filthy against mine, and I wanted to put a stop to the teasing and make good on all those sexual promises he’d made.

Was it a terrible idea? Yes, but I no longer gave a shit. My mind was made up, and now all that existed was executing. Something Gavin had helped with without knowing when he left the apartment before I finished getting dressed.

Yeah, run while you can,I thought as I pulled a pair of jeans on over my bare ass.

He wouldn’t be able to avoid me for long, but for his sake I’d let him get a bit of distance before I shut that shit down for good.

Impatience rode me hard as I finished getting ready, forgoing coffee and food in favor of something that would sate my hunger even better.

By the time I made my way downstairs and into the Sprinter, my restlessness was at an all-time high—so too with the rest of the guys, if the way they glared in my direction was any indication. All but Gavin, who was sitting in the back corner staring out the window and making it a point to ignore me entirely.

“The fuck are you all lookin’ at?” I said, slamming the door shut behind me.

I’d be lying if I said paranoia didn’t take over momentarily, but then West spoke up and put that shit to rest.

“For someone who doesn’t make an effort with his appearance, you sure as hell take a long-ass time getting down here. What do you do, iron your underwear?”

“Not wearing any,” I snapped, planting my ass in an open seat.

“Really?” Travis asked, while beside him, West groaned.

“I didn’t need to know that.”

I shrugged. “You asked.”

“Something I’m regretting. No one needs that visual.”

Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I saw Gavin shifting in his seat. He looked up, his eyes meeting mine, and it was clear by the intensity flaring there that West’s words didn’t apply to everyone. Gavin knew, and still wanted, what I packed inside these jeans.

“Doesn’t it chafe?” Travis asked, still stuck on my current lack of briefs. “I mean, I’ve done it with leather and chaps, but jeans don’t seem like the good kind of friction.”

“Oh my God.” Preston scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s too early for this. I don’t need to know what underwear you’re wearing. Or not wearing.”

“That’s because you have no style and don’t wanna show yours off. Let me guess…” Donovan tapped his lips as a lock of blond hair fell across his forehead. “Boring blue cotton boxer briefs. Am I right?”

Preston’s mouth parted in surprise before he recovered. “They’re not boring. Archer likes them.”

“That’s because he’s old,” East said, smirking. “And old people choose comfort over style. Guess that explains how you found each other.”

Preston rolled his eyes. “You’re such an ass. What do you wear? Solid gold?”

East smoothed a hand down his pressed pants and picked off an imaginary piece of lint. “Only the most luxurious cashmere will do for my perfect ass.”

“I bet I can guess which ones,” Donovan said. “A hundred bucks says they’re Nice Laundry. The gold-embroidered ones.”

“Actual gold? I was right?” Preston’s incredulous tone said it all.

Donovan cocked a brow and motioned for East to answer. “Go ahead. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re in the fashion industry.” East crossed his ankle over his knee and lifted a shoulder. “That’s hardly fair.”

“A bet’s a bet.”

“One I didn’t agree to.”

“Because I’m right? Prove it. I’m down for a little show-and-tell.”

East gestured for him to have the floor. “Then by all means. Show us.”

Donovan stood up, and Gavin groaned, his stare moving back to the window as his brother unzipped his pants. There wasn’t an ounce of shyness in his body, but how could there be when we’d unknowingly watched him get it on in a porn scene?

A pair of velvet-trimmed teal boxers came into view, with the brand’s logo in large letters across the top. “From my latest campaign. Can’t even buy these yet.”

East leaned forward, squinted, and then looked up at Donovan. “It looked bigger on your billboard.”

Donovan zipped up his pants. “Jealous? Careful, green doesn’t really go with your skin tone.”

“Everything goes with me,” East said, waving his hand in the air. “Gavin, your turn. Want to show us how you compare to big brother?”

An irrational wave of anger came over me, and I narrowed my gaze on East. “Shut. The fuck. Up.”

East’s brows shot high, and those wicked eyes gleamed. “Did I hit a sore spot? Interesting…”

But I no longer gave a shit about East or the curious looks from everyone else as I looked back at Gavin. His brows were pulled together slightly as he watched me, like he wasn’t sure what to make of what I’d just said. Not after kicking him out of my room last night. I’d been pushing and pulling for so long he probably had whiplash, but I wasn’t about to sit here and watch Gavin drop his pants for anyone but me.

The longer I held his stare, the louder the blood rushed in my ears, blocking everyone out until it was just the two of us. The shift in his expression happened quickly—he was frowning one second and biting down on his pillowy bottom lip the next. Even clear across the van, I could feel the desire radiating off him, and it matched the insistent throbbing of my cock.

Fuck, I wanted him. This was happening, but I’d be damned if it was with all of these assholes watching.

The door opened suddenly, Scotty moving aside so we could all pile out. I hadn’t even realized we’d arrived, but thank God for the timing, because I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold off.

One by one, all the guys exited the Sprinter, but I kept my ass planted right where it was. Breathing wasn’t coming easy, not because of what I was about to do, but because Gavin was walking up the aisle with his fitted pants tenting at the hips, not even bothering to hide it. He gave a knowing look and inclined his head for me to follow him out.

But if he thought I was going to fuck him for the first time in a bathroom at Astor, he had another thing coming.

When Donovan walked by, I curled my finger into the waist of his pants and tugged him back, holding him out of the way so the last of the guys could exit.

“What the…?” Donovan glanced over his shoulder.

I let go. “Shut the door.”

“What? Why?”

Impatience overrode any pretense of pleasantries. “Just do it.”

He looked at me like I’d lost my mind, but he reached for the handle anyway. “One sec,” he told the guys, before shutting the two of us inside.

Planting his hands on his hips, he turned around and raised a brow. “What’s going on?”

“Sit down.”

Something in my tone must’ve finally gotten through, because he didn’t put up a fight as he took the seat across from me. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” I said, because everything wasn’t okay. My entire world had been flipped upside down, and it was his brother’s fault.

“No? Shit. What do you need?”

“Van talk.”

That clearly hadn’t been what he was expecting, because surprise lit his eyes. “Hold on. You want a Van talk?”

“I didn’t say want, I said need.”

“Uh. Okay,” he said slowly, as if trying to grasp it. All the guys came to him for a “Van talk” at some point when they wanted levelheaded advice, so why would I be any different?

Not that I needed advice from him at this point, but I did need the privacy.

“So what is it you…need?” he asked.

“To fuck your brother.”

If it hadn’t been for how I could see the pulse in the side of Donovan’s neck, I would’ve thought time stood still. Everything went silent and froze in that moment.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” he croaked.

“I said I’m going to fuck your brother.”

Donovan blinked and then fell back in his seat. “That’s what I thought you said.”

I hadn’t seen Donovan at a loss for words often, but it was clear he was struggling now as the silence stretched between us. He rubbed absently at his forehead while I struggled to keep my dick in check.

“Um. Why are you telling me this?” he said, finally meeting my eyes again. “Are you…asking permission or something?”

“No.”

“Well, what if I say no?”

I shrugged. “Too bad.”

“What if Gavin says no?”

“He won’t.”

Donovan’s eyes widened to the point of popping out, and I could see all the questions running through his mind.

“So something is going on between you two, is that it?”

“Not yet.”

He cursed, shaking his head. “So what the hell is this then? This Van talk?”

“A heads-up.” I knew what I wanted, but I wasn’t going to go behind Donovan’s back to get it. I wasn’t asking for his permission. A heads-up I could do.

I stood up, adjusted my insistent hard-on, and yanked the door open to see the guys all still standing there with bewildered looks on their mugs.

“What the hell was that about?” Travis asked as Donovan stumbled out of the Sprinter like he was in a daze.

I kicked my chin up at Donovan. “Good talk.”

“You had a Van talk?” West said, then turned to Donovan. “What about?”

“I…don’t even have the words.” Donovan rubbed at his eyes, like he could erase the last five minutes by doing so, but he wasn’t the one I was paying attention to anymore.

With pure need pounding my veins, I searched out a pair of grey eyes, then I pointed and said, “You. Get the fuck inside.”