Broken Warrior (The Weavers Circle 1)

Baer naturally thought it was hilarious and was barely hiding his snickering from Dane as he ushered them to a round booth with a nice view of the stage. Baer shoved Clay inside first before moving to Clay’s right, forcing Dane to sit on Clay’s left. Whatever discomfort came from being trapped inside the booth was wiped away the first time Dane’s thigh brushed against his. Dane’s cheeks flushed, and he flashed Clay a tense smile that was probably meant as an apology.

He was fine with where Dane was. The man could sit in his lap if that was what he wanted.

Baer immediately ordered a round of shots for the table; then he graciously switched to water as the responsible designated driver. Clay totally owed his friend. Best. Wingman. Ever.

The conversation stayed light and drinks flowed, giving Clay a nice low-level buzz. He wasn’t going to keep drinking since there was still the potential for danger. However, with each drink, Dane became more relaxed in the booth. More and more of his body brushed against Clay. By the time the show started, Clay had wrapped his arm around Dane’s shoulders, and the man was leaning on him.

Clay was pretty sure the performances were excellent. Singing, dancing, and beautiful costumes with extravagant makeup. It was one of the best drag shows he’d ever been to. Not that he’d had a chance to attend that many.

But most of his attention was on Dane. The enticing scent of his cologne drifted past Clay’s nose, and he found himself turning his face into Dane’s neck. He breathed deep, drawing in notes of the cologne and sweat. Dane shivered against him but didn’t pull away. Dane turned his head toward Clay a bit and Clay lifted his own, letting his lips graze along the outer shell of Dane’s ear. A hand clamped on Clay’s thigh, but Dane didn’t move away.

“How drunk are you?” Clay whispered. As badly as he wanted Dane, he wasn’t going to touch him if he was drunk. He didn’t want Dane to want him if the only way it could happen was through lots of alcohol. Clay didn’t mind being a one-night stand, but he refused to be anyone’s mistake.

“Buzzed. Not as drunk as I wish I was,” Dane murmured.

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’d be able to blame my lack of self-control on alcohol.”

Clay huffed a soundless laugh, and the hot breath sent another shiver through Dane. “I think you’ve got way too much self-control.”

Dane chuckled, but it sounded a little strangled.

“If you’d let me, I’d get down on my knees right now.”

“Clay…” Dane moaned, but the sound was drowned out by an explosion of applause.

Clay looked up at the stage to see the performer bowing after finishing her song. Clay couldn’t remember hearing a bit of it, but he still lifted his hands and clapped. Dane started to straighten, pulling some of his body away from Clay as if waking from the spell of alcohol and whatever enticement Clay could manage. Clay put one arm behind Dane while placing his other one under the table so he could lightly touch Dane’s leg, holding him close. He could easily pull away if he really wanted to, but Dane stopped moving.

Baer loudly dropped both hands on the table, rattling the glasses, after the MC announced a short intermission. “I’m gonna find the restrooms.” He shot Clay one last parting grin before sliding out of the booth.

“He’s not subtle,” Dane said the moment they were alone.

“Nope, but he’s gotten me exactly what I wanted.”

Dane turned his head at last to look at Clay. In the dim light, he could clearly make out his beautifully flushed face and slightly damp lips as if he’d licked them. “What is it you want?”

The smile that spread across his lips felt wolfish, but Clay didn’t give a shit. “You.”

“But…”

“Even if I only get the seat next to you. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me.”

And he meant those words. He knew Dane was struggling with the loss of his wife and kid. He might never be ready to move on to something new. Clay wasn’t even sure what he could give Dane when he had no intention of sticking around. He would just enjoy every scrap Dane gave him. The haunting scent of his cologne, every smile, every chuckle, and every shiver would be tucked away in his heart forever.

Dane twisted around to face him, slamming his mouth on Clay’s in a hungry, demanding kiss that had Clay nearly coming in his jeans. Groaning, Clay leaned back in the booth, letting Dane pin him to the faux leather. Every stroke of Dane’s tongue against his own, every moan had his cock throbbing behind the damn zipper of his jeans. It was like Dane wanted to devour him, and Clay welcomed it.