“Oh. Was it a joke then, because—”

“No! Not a joke,” he cut in as if I’d change my mind. “I really need—I mean, I reallywantyou to go with me. Needandwant. You’ll really go?”

“Yeah. But you also have to pay for whatever I need to wear if it’s something other than I already own.” I had no doubt I didn’t have anything appropriate for some swanky party at his parents’ club.

He gave a sharp nod, which drew my attention to his naked torso again, a torso I’d be up close to if we danced at this event. Would he want to dance? I never had, and I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t stomp all over his feet.

“I’ll have my tailor come by tomorrow,” he said, cutting through my thoughts. “Just text me your sizes, and he’ll get you outfitted.”

Like I said… His family owned half the east coast. And I was trying real hard not to feel like Vivian fromPretty Woman. ‘Course, I’d be following her number one rule—no kissing. Easy. And I wouldn’t be kissing sleeping with Porter, either.

Besides, he thought I wasn’t into men. Yeah, I was just a bi guy pretending to be a straight man who was pretending to be gay. Even on my most creative day, back when lying had been a way of life because of my dad, I couldn’t have made up shit like this.

Two

Porter George

My skin itched with the needs to surge into motion. Instead I was lounging on the couch, watching Desmond, my tailor, fit Nash for the tux he’d wear on Saturday. I’d known the man for years, worked with him since I was a preteen—hell, he special made all my pants because hockey players had thighs and asses that didn’t fit in off the rack trousers—but right now… Right now, I wanted to smack his hands away from Nash and shove him and his God damn measuring tape out the front door. Maybe after I’d strangled him with it.

My teeth gritted and I bit back a growl as he measured Nash’s inseam. Every touch seemed intimate to me and excessive. I wouldn’t even be able to work off this steam when the guy finally left.

Nash for his part appeared tomato-red and as uncomfortable as I was worked up. He wasn’t as used to being as measured, poked and prodded.

“I think that’s all I need,” Desmond said, rising from where he was crouched before Nash in a way that elicited dirty pictures in my mind. I wondered how Nash would feel about being gay for the day, exploring what it would be like to be with a man.

Which was a completely out of bounds thought for me. Sure, I admired good looking men, the same as anyone would, but I didn’t consider dragging them over to my own personal dark side. I knew what boundaries were and I respected them. I had to if I didn’t want to get my ass kicked by my teammates. Thankfully, those who knew about me weren’t homophobic, but still… I didn’t test their tolerance.

“Thanks, I appreciate you squeezing us into your schedule like this,” I said, shoving quickly to my feet and thrusting out my hand.

I will not punch him. I will not punch him…I chanted in my head.

He grinned as if reading my thoughts, his eyes dancing with his ill-suppressed mirth. Asshole. That last inseam measure was to mess with me. I almost pulled away my hand before we could shake, but I didn’t hide my thoughts as I met his eyes. Nash was mine. Desmond’s grin only widened.

“Bought time you found a guy,” he muttered.

My chin lowered. “What?”

“Your tux is all set for tomorrow?” he asked without answering me, pretending as if he hadn’t said anything at all.

“Yeah, fine.” It had only been a couple weeks since the last time I’d had to wear it and it was still wrapped in the cleaner’s plastic.

He nodded, stepping back and gathering his things.

“I’ll have your clothes here tomorrow morning, Mr. Higgins,” he told Nash. He looked back at me. “I’ll courier them over midmorning, so they’ll be here in plenty of time.”

“Thank you,” Nash said. “I appreciate you doing this. I know it’s a rush.”

“No worries at all, Sir. I imagine we’ll be seeing each other again soon. Have a good night.”

With that, he was gone and I sucked in a relieved breath. I liked Desmond or I would have demanded someone else do my apparel, but I really didn’t like him so close to Nash.MyNash, even if just in my imagination.

“Pizza?” I asked him as soon as we were alone. I had to do something to get my libido and temper under control. Food seemed like a good detour.

“What did he mean by that?” Nash said, clearly not on the same page as me. Of course, he wouldn’t be. He was just a straight guy getting fitted and not feeling the vibes of the room. Which were probably just in my head due to sexual frustration. Wanting something I couldn’t have.

“What do you mean?”

“That I’d see him again soon.”