Their Boy (The Game 2)

Ella and Sandra chimed in with their own surprise, and by the time they’d asked all sorts of questions about the tattoos, I was vowing to cover up for the rest of my damn life. Their attention was a little much. Their interest was…new.

I did my best to laugh it all off, and I sat down next to Shay like I didn’t have a stick up my ass. Or a care in the world.

Our preordered drinks arrived approximately when Cameron did, and I was thankful he wasn’t as exuberant about my body art as the girls. I breathed a sigh of relief and took a sip of my Coke.

“Did you guys hear that Master Lucian is single again?” Cameron asked and raised his brows. “Just saying his name gets me hard.”

I withheld my grin and bit into an ice chip.

Shay looked over his shoulder to see the table behind us. “Who’s that? Is he a Sadist? I need to find a Sadist.”

“You want the twins,” Ella said with a wink. “River and Reese play on another level.”

River and Reese were also the ones who’d started this community, along with five or six others. Together, they were often referred to as the Founders.

Cameron and Sandra were happy to point out where these Sadist twins sat, and I followed their subtle pointing and nodding—only to get stuck on Colt Carter.

The man was indecently attractive, in a rugged, dirty way. He smirked cockily at whatever someone across from him said, and then he scratched his scruffy cheek and replied. I couldn’t hear over the din. Everyone was talking. The terrace had filled up.

It was my turn to sigh when he grinned and leaned over to the man next to him for a quick kiss. Lucas West, Colt’s partner. Or husband. Their gold bands glinted in the sun. They were founding members as well.

I did my best to avoid looking at those two, though obviously I failed from time to time. Last munch had been particularly difficult, because they’d caught me staring three times.

I was always going to be the people watcher, it seemed. The guy looking into other people’s realities to get a glimpse of life.

Colt laughed at something. He shrugged. Lucas shook his head in amusement. Then Colt took a swig of his beer and—shit. He saw me. Turning around again, I fiddled with my napkin and tried to pay attention to what Sandra and Shay were arguing about.* * *Halfway through brunch, I had to hurry down to the second floor where the bathrooms were. That’s what I got for chugging two Cokes.

I wanted to get back quickly, because Cameron and the others were discussing a kink event coming up. If there was the slightest hint of an invitation to join them, I had to take it. I could not chicken out, and blaming the stupid accident was no longer a viable excuse. I was here, out in the open, wearing a T-shirt. No more hiding, scars or otherwise. The munches clearly weren’t enough to gain more friends.

After relieving myself, I zipped up and went to wash my hands. Then I grabbed a paper towel and rushed toward the door—and I crashed into someone.

“Oomph.” Eyes screwed shut, I flew back a foot or two and rubbed my nose. “Sorry.” Ouch. It actually hurt. What the hell had hit my nose? I cracked one eye open, and the first thing I saw was a dog tag glinting in the light from the ceiling.

Crap.

It was a freakishly tall man… A freakishly tall Colt Carter.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated. Picking up the paper towel from the floor, I avoided making eye contact and sidestepped to the trash can.

“No worries.” His voice was a low drawl that drew my gaze to him whether I wanted to or not. I swallowed hard. Seeing him up close for the first time was heaven and hell at once. He was dangerously sexy and daunting. Much older than me. Cutting features, trimmed beard, green eyes that looked too calculating for my liking.

Abort, abort!

I looked away again and fidgeted, wondering how to get past him. He was blocking the exit.

“You buy clothes just because you think they’re cool, don’t you?”

Well, they should be functional too…

I furrowed my brow, and I made the mistake of looking up once more.

He folded his arms over his chest, causing the fabric of his tee to stretch around his biceps, and nodded at my chest. “Why else would you choose a design with that jet on it?”

I glanced down at the print on my T-shirt, then up again. “The Raptor is an outstanding fighter,” I told him matter-of-factly.

He cocked a brow. With a shake of his head, he left the doorway and walked over to the urinals. “Outstandingly expensive, sure. Most of the time, they collect dust while someone else’s gotta do the work.”