How had she even found these? He’d kept them hidden, tucked away in a shoebox at the bottom of his closet. No one ever found them. She had to be searching for something—something to use against him. His little Russian, up and coming supermodel was arm candy, nothing more. She drank too much, popped too many pills, and had moved into the serious drugs sometime last year. He didn’t give a shit about her one way or another. Her only benefit, the only true reason he’d kept her around was that she seemed to like to watch him fuck guys. And he liked to fuck guys, but she didn’t need to know that.
Watching him with other men turned her on. The guys always let Colt fuck them in order to get their hands on her. Win-win for everybody. He’d always known she was using him for his fame. He was definitely using her to hide behind, but somehow, he’d missed the conniving bitch part of her personality. Colt was just her ticket to becoming a United States resident. Apparently, her visas were all denied because of the multiple drug charges she’d faced over the last couple of years. A marriage to him solved those problems.
Colt sat back on his ass and lifted another picture of Jace. This one was a side shot, and he ran a fingertip down the length of Jace’s body. Jace was thicker now, not the lean guy he remembered. His legs and arms were bulky, heavy with muscle, and his blond hair was longer. He’d turned into a man. Being thirty-two years old would do that to you. In the picture, Jace’s jaw was set as he looked at one of his winning teams, and to Colt, Jace was still the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen. This was one of Colt’s favorites. Maryia hadn’t messed it up either. Thank God! Colt carefully laid the picture aside and moved deeper into the closet to finish getting Jace all picked up.
Chapter 13
Jace rose from his bed and searched the floor for his athletic shorts. He found them in a pile of clothing, not all his, and slid them on before grabbing his old iPod off the nightstand. The alarm clocks dim light showed three o’clock in the morning, and his date still slept in his bed. That was kind of new. He usually didn’t bring guys home, and if he did, they certainly didn’t end up sleeping in his bed for the night.
Jace refused to consider how much he didn’t like having someone in his bed or how he hadn’t gotten remotely close to getting off last night. Neither thought needed his immediate attention, so he pushed them aside.
Absently, Jace grabbed his tank from the lampshade and quietly shut the door as he slipped on the shirt, making his way to the kitchen. He anchored the earbuds in his ears and quickly and efficiently picked one of the hundreds of playlist in the iPod. This one was this year’s Nationals music, along with his top secret mixes for Worlds. He hadn’t listened to either one all the way through, even though he had teams performing in every division.
Jace grabbed a can of guava juice from the refrigerator. Brushing a stray piece of his long hair behind his ears, he took a seat at his kitchen table. The music in his iPod thumped to life as he unrolled blueprints and spread them across the table. A grin slid across his face, the music all but forgotten as he looked at the front page of the final plans for his new cheerleading gym.
He had no idea how much time passed as he went through the blueprints, page by page. He watched for every correction they had talked about, and from the best he could tell, they were all there. Jace had also decided on a general contractor. He didn’t go local, nor did he go with the cheapest bid, instead he chose Layne Construction out of Chicago. Their reputation was the best, and his cheerleaders deserved the best practice facility money could buy.
“Babe, come back to bed.” Jace tensed as arms slid around his shoulders and full blown morning breath hit his face. Jace automatically tugged the earbuds from his ear, as the bold guy lifted his tank from the bottom, pulling the shirt up and over his head. “You’re built like a brick house. Don’t cover it up, baby.”
On a score of one to ten, this guy was a ten when it came to the come-ons. That being the main reason Jace had finally gone out with him. About thirty minutes into the date, Jace remembered come-ons only lasted a minute and the guy had nothing else to back him up. They had fallen almost immediately into gratuitous sex and even that had failed. Again, not something he cared to think about right now.
Jace grabbed the shirt and rose, getting out from under the bad breath. He walked around the table, the opposite direction of the guy, and tugged his shirt back on.
“I’ve been waiting for you to wake. I need to get to the gym,” Jace said, walking into the bedroom. He scanned the floor and found all his date's clothing, laying them out on the bed. Bad breath came up behind him, evidently not taking the hint, and wrapped an arm around him, kissing his back.
“Don’t send me off yet. You were incredible last night. I want you to do me again.”
Jace cringed at the thought, narrowing his brow. It was almost comical the way his body physically recoiled at the idea of fucking this guy again. Bad breath wasn’t bad looking; probably younger, maybe in his early twenties, short, and had a nice tight body… but his nose looked too wide for his face. Jace broke from the hold.
“I’ll call you, but I gotta go. I’m gonna be late.”
“I don’t believe you.” Bad breath had his hands on his hips and a pout on his lips.