Page 31 of Tender Wild

Miguel retrieved the cue ball then circled the table, studying angles with practiced ease. Bending over the felt, he lined up his shot, aware of Jared’s eyes on him. The striped balls scattered perfectly across the table, two dropping into pockets.

“Show-off,” Jared muttered, but his gaze lingered on Miguel’s arms, the way his muscles flexed beneath his T-shirt.

“Years of practice,” he replied, straightening. “Nothing special.”

“Disagree.” Jared’s voice carried a hint of admiration. “Everything you do looks... coordinated.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow. “Coordinated?”

“Yeah, like your body just knows what to do.” Jared waved vaguely at him. “Mine’s still figuring out basic tasks, apparently.”

“Your body does plenty of things right,” Miguel countered, voice dropping an octave.

Jared’s face was doused in flames, the borrowed shirt slipping off one shoulder, revealing freckles Miguel wanted to trace with his tongue.

“Your shot, solecito.” They weren’t playing by the rules, but Miguel couldn’t give a shit less. He was admiring the view as Jared bent over the table. Even in borrowed clothes—or maybe especially in them—he looked like everything Miguel had never known he wanted. The way his jeans hugged his ass, the sliver of skin visible where his shirt rode up, the elegant line of his neck as he concentrated on the layout of balls as if deciphering ancient hieroglyphs.

Jared pulled back the cue, aimed, and struck the white ball with surprising force. It shot wildly across the felt, missing every target before bouncing off the rail and rolling pathetically to a stop.

“Nailed it again,” Jared said with a deadpan expression.

“That was... something,” Miguel said, lips twitching. “Try again.”

Two shots later, Jared finally hit a striped ball, sending it ricocheting across the table and straight into a corner pocket.

“Did you see that?” Jared spun around, eyes bright with triumph. “I’m basically a pool shark now.”

“Terrifying,” Miguel agreed, unable to suppress his smile. “The world of competitive billiards should be quaking.”

Jared’s responding grin made something warm unfurl in Miguel’s chest. For a moment, they weren’t two men who’d just killed intruders in self-defense. They were just... them. Miguel and Jared, playing pool badly, flirting in the low light of a bar.

“Your turn,” Jared said, offering the cue.

Miguel lined up his shot, sinking two solid balls in quick succession. When he glanced up, he caught Jared staring at his arms, at the way his muscles flexed beneath his skin.

“See something you like?” he asked, voice dropping lower.

A blush crept up Jared’s neck. “Just studying your technique.”

That’s what you’re going with?” Miguel circled the table, deliberately brushing against Jared as he passed. “Your shot,” he said, their fingers brushing as he handed it over.

Jared managed to hit the cue ball, which struck the racked balls with a satisfying crack. His triumphant smile faded as the white ball followed the others into a corner pocket.

“That’s not supposed to happen, is it?”

“Not technically, no.” Miguel couldn’t help but chuckle at Jared’s crestfallen expression.

They finished their game, then decided to head to their room, Miguel’s gaze never leaving his mate.

Chapter Eight

The tavern bedroom door clicked shut behind them, sealing off the noise from down the hall. Familiar territory. Jared had stayed in this exact room a week ago when Miguel kept watch over him. Back then, it had felt like an interruption to his life. Now it felt like sanctuary.

He stumbled in after Miguel, fatigue hitting all at once. “I need a shower,” he announced, dropping Miguel’s leather jacket onto a nearby chair. “I feel like I’ve been dragged behind your motorcycle.”

“Take your time.” Miguel sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. “Not like we’re going anywhere tonight.”

Inside the bathroom, Jared flipped on the light and caught sight of himself in the mirror. Finger-shaped bruises circled his throat like a macabre necklace. His chin displayed an angry purple mark where it had connected with the floor. A stranger stared back at him, wide-eyed and battle-worn.

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