Chapter 9
Nine
Ridge
I follow the other three down the hallway to Room One-hundred-twenty-five with my head on a swivel. My brother leads the way, and I can tell he’s clocking every detail, too. Apprehension threatens to overtake anticipation with every step we take. I attribute most of these feelings of misgiving to not being involved in the planning of this field trip for Ira.
Admittedly, had Gable brought the idea to me, I’d have shot it down outright. Seeing how much happier Ira is makes it obvious I would have been mistaken to refuse, and that in itself bothers me more than it should. Have I been holding back the people around me by being too set in my ways? Too intractable about things when there could have been workarounds?
“Are you a bodyguard or something?” Hazel’s quiet question drags me from my internal obsessing. I push down the existential crisis of self I’m in the middle of and focus on her.
“Something like that,” I reply. “Gable and I own a security firm. Ira is a client. You’re not in any danger being with us tonight, though. So don’t be alarmed.”
Some people get weird about their own safety when they’re in proximity to someone who’s being protected. Hazel’s observant enough to notice my brother and I don’t necessarily treat Ira like a buddy or romantic partner. Not that he couldn’t be both under different circumstances.
The idea of an alternate reality where I’m not half a man and Ira isn’t in danger is a fantasy I’ve allowed myself a time or two since meeting the other man. Of course, in those daydreams, I’m never sharing him with my brother or a woman. Not that I’m averse to either of those things. Especially not now, with the limitations I have.
Since my injuries, I’ve faced the fact I no longer have the necessary equipment to be a good boyfriend. Just getting a hardon takes more time and way more effort than it ever did before, to say nothing about actually nutting. I can’t even remember the last time I came. The amount of work and time it takes just isn’t worth the disappointment these days, especially not when it’s just me making the effort.
“I wasn’t alarmed at all,” she says. “Just trying to figure out the way the wind blows with the three of you. There’s so much chemistry between you all, even though you?—”
She bites the words back, and unlike anyone else who I’d rather keep their thoughts to themselves, I need to know what she was going to say. What does she sees when she looks at me?
“I what?” I prod.
“You’re different than your brother,” she confides.
“Well aware,” I deadpan. Gable’s always been the more lighthearted of the two of us. Even when Kendall, his bitch girlfriend, dumped him for taking too much attention away from her to help me with my recovery, Gable stayed positive about life.
“Not in a bad way. Just, um, just different.” Hazel’s feet slow, leaving Ira and Gable several steps ahead of us in the hallway. She turns to face me and puts her hand against my chest, right above where my heart has started to pound.
“When Gable looks at me, it feels like he sees a triple layer slice of cake waiting to be savored. But you?—”
My heart thuds heavily, waiting to hear what she says next.
“You look at me like a raider discovering treasure in a long-lost crypt. Like you’ll wrap around me and obliterate anything that so much as blinks crossly at me.” Her fingers curl into my sweater, pressing five perfect points into the meat of my pec.
Hazel Voss may have agreed to be a free use living sex toy in Room One-twenty-five tonight, with the agreement she’s not the one in charge, but her slender little hand clutched into my chest makes it clear she’s no submissive outside the bedroom.
Her hand on me drags a glimmer of need from my balls, a twinge I haven’t felt in so long I almost miss it when it happens. My cock twitches behind the zipper of my thick black-canvas cargo pants, and the shock of it makes me miss a step.
“You okay, man?” Gable asks, our delay finally catching his and Ira’s attention.
“We’re fine,” Hazel answers for me. Good thing, since my tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth.
“You coming, then?” Ira bounces like an excited puppy, and my woken-up dick likes watching his jubilance, too.
“Yeah, I think so.”
My brother doesn’t miss my innuendo, and his eyes narrow on me in shock. My struggle to perform isn’t something he and I have discussed. Ever. But he’d have to be blind not to have noticed I never go out. Never pick up anyone to hook up with.
When we’re not working, we share a house not far from Ira’s college. So Gable knows I never bring anyone home to stay over, either. Not that he does. He’s nearly as much of a monk as I am, but I know he’s had a few friends-with-benefit situations in the years since he and Kendall broke up.
“Oh, we definitely are!” Hazel chirps. She threads her arm through mine and tugs me to catch up to Gable and Ira. The keycard my brother waves in front of the door makes a barely audible click, the light turning from red to green as he pushes open the heavy, painted wood.
The nervous delight pouring from Ira and Hazel turns to wonder as all four of us pour into the room. The two of them race around exploring the furniture designed with an obviously kinky intent that turns it from an ordinary space into a sensual playground. Gable and I prowl the the place with our attention on security and noting points of entry or exit. Still, even with my focus on making sure it’s a safe place to play, there’s no way to stop myself from considering all the surfaces ripe to take either Ira or Hazel on.
“What’s your safe word, Beauty?” I memorized her limits list. Ira’s, too.
“Can we just use the club’s safe words? The color system?” Ira asks.
“That works for me,” she adds. “I’ve never done anything like this. I’ve always thought sex was, I dunno, kinda silly.”
More and more, I hate this Jonathan asshole. How could he have such a darling woman in his life and squander the gift? If Hazel were mine, she’d never feel as if sex were silly or as if another woman could take her place.
I may be not be the man I was, but I’m man enough to know if life brings a woman like Hazel around, you cherish her. How did she put it? Treasure discovered in a lost crypt being worshipped? Yeah, that sounds about right.