Just a Bit Wrong (Straight Guys 4)

His jaw set, Tristan pulled his phone out and called him.

“Look,” Zach said when he finally answered. “About what happened—”

“You’ve neglected your job for two days,” Tristan cut him off, his voice hard. “I expect you to be here first thing in the morning.”

There was silence on the line.

At last, Zach said, “I’m on my way to Jared. I’m handing in my notice.”

“Why?” Tristan said.

Zach exhaled audibly. “Tris—”

“No, I really don’t get why you’re quitting the job.” Tristan scoffed, making sure to sound as derisive as possible. “If it’s about what happened this morning, forget about it. Obviously it won’t happen again. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Tristan smiled grimly, pleased with how bored and indifferent his voice sounded. “I expect to see you here tomorrow.”

“I’m quitting, Tristan.”

“Ah, I get it,” he said amiably. “You’re scared that you won’t be able to keep your hands off me.”

“I’m not scared of that,” Zach said testily.

“Then prove it,” Tristan said softly. “But I think you can’t. You’re afraid to be around me.”

“How do you get into your front door with a head so big?” Zach asked with a laugh.

“It’s a special talent. I’m very talented. Don’t be late.” Tristan hung up, knowing that he had won.

Or lost, something whispered in the back of his mind.

The truth was, he was scared, too.

Chapter 9

When the doorbell rang the next morning, Tristan was already in the gym, stretching his muscles before his training session.

He didn’t hurry to the door—he stopped to check his reflection in the mirror.

Tristan ran his hand through his brown hair, making his already messy hair even more disheveled. He glanced at his clothes: a tank top that made his eyes look blue rather than green and a pair of white shorts that showed off his legs and ass to perfection.

Tristan smiled grimly. Perfect. He wanted Zach to stare at him, knowing that he could never, ever have him.

The doorbell rang again. Someone was getting impatient.

With one final glance at the mirror, Tristan went to open the door.

Zach’s eyes immediately went to Tristan’s hips and legs. His lips thinned. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and gave Tristan a very unimpressed look.

Tristan smiled innocently. “Good morning.”

Still saying nothing, Zach continued boring a hole in Tristan with his eyes.

Tristan licked his dry lips and cleared his throat. “Okay, I want to make something clear: what happened yesterday was moronic and will never happen again. You kiss terribly, by the way.”

“Do I?” Zach said through his teeth, still looking pissed off. “I got a different impression yesterday.”

Tristan glared at him. “I’ll have you know I just have a very sensitive mouth. I enjoy having something in my mouth, that’s all.”

Zach stared at him.

Tristan fought back the blush threatening to creep up his cheeks, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. His brain-to-mouth filter seemed non-existent when Zach was around.

Figuring offense was the best defense, Tristan smiled. “You’re imagining my mouth around your dick, admit it.”

Zach’s jaw worked.

“Don’t bother denying it,” Tristan said with a shrug. “I don’t care. It’s not like it would ever happen, so you can imagine all you want. You’ll never touch me again.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Zach said. “I’m your physiotherapist. I can’t avoid touching you.”

Feeling silly and embarrassed—he felt that way far too often in Zach’s presence—Tristan glowered and headed to the gym, trying not to stomp, mindful of his injury. His groin didn’t bother him at all lately, but he wasn’t willing to risk re-injury— he would never hear the end of it from Zach.

“Stop swinging your hips,” Zach said irritably, following him.

“No one’s forcing you to look,” Tristan said, just as irritably.

Bloody hell, this had been a terrible idea. He shouldn’t have manipulated Zach into staying simply because his pride was wounded. What was he trying to prove? It was obvious they couldn’t achieve a working relationship while this…thing was hanging between them, taut and loaded. God, he’d never before wanted sex so badly that he had to consciously stop himself from jumping the guy’s bones.

They entered the gym in tense silence and looked at each other.

Zach moved toward the mats. “Did you do your exercises yesterday?” His voice was cool and very professional all of a sudden. “Hip adduction, hip flexion?”

“Yeah,” Tristan said.

“Isometric adductor exercises?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you apply ice after the exercises?”

“Of course I did.”

“Any pain?”

Tristan shook his head.

“No soreness now?”

“I told you I’m ready for training. Real training.”

“I will be the judge of that,” Zach said, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. “Start. Stretching first.”

Rolling his eyes, Tristan grabbed the medicine ball. “Already did.”

He did his exercises in silence, trying to ignore the black-clad figure watching him like a hawk. He didn’t look Zach’s way, but he could feel his heavy gaze, almost like a physical touch.