Page 40 of The Mechanics of Lust

I wiped the steam from the mirror and studied my reflection.

Jesus fucking George.I fingered the bite marks dancing across my chest and the bruises that ran up the side of my throat, across my jaw, circled my hips, painted patterns on my thighs, and—I turned sideways to check my back—yep, all over that sucker as well.

Damn you, Luke.I looked like I’d gone ten rounds in an MMA ring and lost. I quashed the smile that was starting to leak all over my face because I wasn’t happy about it at all.

Iwasn’t.

I leaned on the vanity and blew out a sigh. Okay, so maybe I was. Best damn sex of my life. I thought about Holden and our many, many times burning up the sheets and... nope, still no contest. A revelation that gave me pause. Because it wasn’t that Holden and I hadn’t had great chemistry too. He’d been somewhat of a mentor to my decidedly inexperienced gay self and we’d had a lot of fun. But compared to what had happened in Luke’s bed just hours before, well, nothing before even came close.

Sex with Luke had been everything I’d imagined. Explosive and hungry and aggressive. But what shocked me to the core was the fact it had been equally tender and affectionate and selfless. Andfun.

Maybe it was the fact Luke seemed to like that pissy, toppy side of me, a side I hadn’t been all that familiar with myself because I’d left that role to Holden. But Luke seemed to enjoy everything and anything I brought to the occasion. The door was open wide and it was a heady feeling. He was an attentive and generous lover, and I’d spent the entire day reliving every moment I’d spent in his arms, or against his shower wall, or in his bed, or on his sofa, or up his arse—and okay, yeah, I’d wasted a fair amount of the day on that last one.

Which brought me back to my current predicament. I studied the reflection in the mirror again and groaned. There was no way in hell I was going to be able to hide all of that. So far, I’d managed to fly under the radar. I’d spent the day training my dogs and then fixing the intake system on the troughs supplying the south pasture.

But if I turned up to the cookout in a high-necked shirt, I might as well wave a flag above my head that said,yes, I got right royally fucked last night, thank you very much.I lathered shaving foam selectively above and below my stubble, hoping the remaining shadow would hide some of the bruising along my jaw and neck. Looking at the less-than-satisfactory result, I seriously considered texting an excuse to Gil and simply going to bed. And I might’ve even followed through if it weren’t for the real possibility that he’d appear at the cottage two minutes later bearing chicken soup and sympathy. The man was a bloody mother hen.

I was still debating my options when a knock at the door almost made me drop my razor.Shit.Had I fucking summoned the guy?I peeked through the window and breathed a sigh of relief. It was Emily.

“Hang on.” I tugged on sweats and a T-shirt and then draped a towel around my neck and hoped the shaving foam did the rest.

As I opened the door, Emily turned from where she’d been watching Charlie and Sam’s antics as they cooled off in the glistening lake. She raised a quizzical brow. “I’m surprised you’re not in there with them.”

Not the way I looked.I leaned on the doorjamb as casually as I could manage and followed her gaze. “Would’ve been nice, but I had a late night and a busy day.” As explanations went, it was mighty thin considering I swam most days over summer, and everyone knew it.

“Late night, huh?” Her smirk was telling as she ran a shrewd gaze over me, head to toe. “I heard your bike come in around six.”

No surprise there, since Emily’s cottage stood less than fifty metres from mine. Heat bloomed in my cheeks. “Sorry if I woke you.”

She waved off my apology. “I’m no prude, son. You deserve to have some fun. I’m just pleased to see you getting out again.”

Oh boy.I’d known Holden’s mother all my life, andshe’dknown about ourextra-curricularactivities for longer than I cared to think about, because... mortifying. But it meant Emily also understood, more than most people, how difficult it had been for me when Holden and Gil became a thing. In many ways, she was like a second mother, and I loved her dearly.

She considered me with serious eyes. “I came to pick your brains.”

That made me frown. I couldn’t remember the last time Emily had askedanyoneforanything. Self-sufficient and capable were her middle names.

“Sure.” I waited.

Her gaze slid off me and back to the lake, its glistening surface beginning to rough in a fresh breeze channelling up the valley. “A friend of mine has a son who is thinking about leaving his partner.”

I straightened. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Emily shook her head. “Don’t be. None ofusare. They’ve only been together a year, and the guy is an arsehole. He’s stuck around too long as it is.”

“Okaaaay.” I frowned. “But I’m not sure where I fit—”

“There’s a dog that might need a temporary home until everything is sorted out. I wondered if you could help.”

My heart sank. “Emily, we can’t just bring any dog onto a sheep station, you know that.”

Emily’s cheeks reddened. “Of course. I only meant that you might know someone local there who could help?”

I thought for a minute. “Not in Christchurch. Most of the dog owners I know around there are on sheep farms, like us.” Then it hit me. “What about Spencer?”

Emily’s brows lifted. “OurSpencer? The vet?”

I nodded. “Sure. He lost Silo to cancer last year and he’s a sucker for a sob story—you can tell him I said so. I realise it’s a three-hour drive but it’s a safe option.”

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