“You’re in so much trouble,” Noa whispered to me.
I flinched and folded my arms over my chest. I wasn’t gonna get out of this one without admitting the truth.
“I acted selfishly,” I bit out in defeat and lowered my gaze. Not an ounce of lust lingered within me, and this was what I had dreaded. Tate’s reaction to my honest truth. “My ambition was to help. I felt horrible when Tate first indicated that Kingsley believed there was something going on between Tate and me. I wanted to tell Kingsley that he couldn’t have been more wrong. But then I met him, and I was so attracted…”
My desire for Kingsley had won out, plain and simple.
The door to the storage room opened again, and I didn’t need to look up. I already knew it was Tate.
Then I heard him. “Getting a shot with my man was more important than our friendship.”
I closed my eyes and let the guilt wash over me yet again. “Yes. In that moment, I lost control—and I’m very sorry, Tate.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.” My eyes flashed open again, and I was ready to let it all spill out. Instead, I nearly swallowed my tongue. That was not the Tate I’d met up with for coffee so many times. What had happened to him? Was this what he’d hidden underneath his nice shirts and chinos? My friend had the occasional sparkling sticker attached to his pant leg, dried paint on his fingers, not a hair out of place, and sometimes reading glasses that he hadn’t bothered taking off.
He was dressed like Kingsley now. Well-worn jeans that rode low, feet bare, hair untamed, all his ink on display. I’d never seen the extent of his tattoos, and it was possible I hadn’t felt comfortable inquiring about them. Dark illustrations of guitars, sheet music, piano keys, lyrics, and other instruments slithered up his arms and even covered parts of his shoulders.
Most importantly, his eyes looked like they could see straight through me and strip me of every secret, as if I had any.
Hell, he was sexy.
I lowered my stare again and felt genuine shame and embarrassment roll over me, because it was becoming abundantly clear that I had chosen a flawed path in my new discovery. I was relying entirely too much on physical appearance. I couldn’t help being attracted to certain traits and behaviors, but it was wrong to write people off.
I’d doubted myself momentarily the day Tate had revealed to me that he was both submissive and dominant. And dominance was, above all, my main drug. It’d always affected me intimately. It’d always tried to flip a switch within me, summoning my well-hidden desire to submit. But now, it was no longer hidden, and neither was Tate’s assertiveness.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, fighting the urge to cover myself up.
It wasn’t only physical traits and dominance that evidently took precedence. It was nudity too. Nudity had the ability to mute my principles, kill my morals, and empty my brain. After all, the young man next to me wearing dog ears and tight briefs turned me on too, and he was hardly dominant.
How could I have so little self-control?
They were waiting for me. They had to be. The silence had stretched for several seconds, and I didn’t know what to say. What had been the question? I had Tate’s abs at the forefront of my mind, along with my own stupidity.
What was I doing?
“Why would I believe you’re sorry, Franklin?” Tate asked.
That had been the question. Christ, I was useless.
“I don’t know,” I responded truthfully. He had no reason to believe me. “But I am. I’m sorry I feel the way I do. I’m sorry I prioritized my attraction to Kingsley over our friendship. I’m sorry I didn’t have the courage to be forthcoming—”
“Enough,” Tate said.
When I dared glance up again, he was standing behind Kingsley, and he bent down to kiss Kingsley’s neck, to stroke his Master’s chest and…farther down. Kingsley tilted his face, and the two met in a kiss that started out soft and affectionate before it grew heated and passionate.
I saw two equals who’d had their hearts broken and were working to restore each other. Their love was almost palpable. And I harbored jealousy but no envy. I didn’t want the profound connection or the solid image of a lovely future together. I wanted sex. I wanted kisses, rough hands, discomfort, pleasure, and intimate touches.
I wanted to be inappropriate.
“Have you decided, baby?” Kingsley murmured against Tate’s lips.
I narrowed my eyes at Tate’s fingers as they dipped inside Kingsley’s jeans.
Fuck, how I wanted. No word was strong enough to describe how badly I wanted to be able to touch Kingsley like that.
“I think so.” Tate slowed down the kiss and caught his breath against Kingsley’s neck. “He’s sorry but can’t help what he feels. He’s sorry but has no regrets.”