Page 36 of Hot Rucking Canadian

“That’s mighty kind of you.” Ronald nodded to me. “We might just take you up on that.”

The bell chimed for our floor.

Clearly reluctantly, Mallow rose. “You have my number.” He put his arm around my back and guided me out of the elevator.

I was, of course, perfectly capable of doing it myself. But I liked the protective nature of his gesture. Marking his territory. Completely unnecessary with this older couple, but making a statement nonetheless.

They waved to us as the door closed.

I exhaled.

“They’re good people.” Mallow pressed a kiss to my cheek.

“Sure. But I worry about what people will think.”

“They’ll think they no longer have to try to set me up.” He said that with a huge grin.

Apparently Johnnie and Roger were continuously trying to set Mallow up with guys. Twinks and bottoms. They were truly clueless about Mallow’s preferences, and he hadn’t known how to convey his preferences to his friends. My appearance clarified things. Hence the comment, that first night, about me not being what they expected. I’d taken that the wrong way, naturally. They’d just meant I wasn’t a twink. Whether Mallow had explained the whole top and bottom thing? I hadn’t asked. “Take me to bed?”

“With pleasure.”

Mamba hung out in the living room alone.

We made gentle love that night.

Well, the first time.

The second time I fucked him into the mattress and made him scream.

Thank God for good soundproofing.

Chapter Thirteen

Travis

Ifelt the crunch of bone from the stands.

Well, no bone had actually broken.

Or at least I hoped not.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God.” Carsyn squealed.

Carsyn? Carly? Corey?

Damn, I couldn’t remember.

Johnnie had gone on three dates with her, and somehow she’d wrangled tickets out of him.

Becca had used a very unflattering name for the woman when she’d arrived.

I could admit her pink sequined crop top, white jeans, and jean jacket, along with her sandal high heels didn’t exactly fit the near-freezing temperature of the Sunday afternoon game. At least the rain had stopped.

“Johnnie! Yoo-hoo? Are you okay, babydoll?”

Becca, who thank God was on my right side—and therefore likely out of hearing range of the squealing woman on my other—snickered.

As far as I could tell, and again to my relief, Johnnie couldn’t hear Carsyn above the shouts of the crowd at the refs for only using a yellow card and not the red ejection card they all felt was warranted.

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