Page 31 of Dirty Martini
“Um…”
I sigh at the indecision and worry in that one word. Part of the disdain I feel for Everest directly stems from how he’s treated his brother. He iced him out and basically cut him off assoon as Elton left for college. Elton would never admit it out loud—because that would make it real—but I know he’s hurt.
“It’s never going to get better unless you talk to him,” I say gently, knowing what’ll happen if I push too hard.
He must already be in a mood today because he shuts down and avoids exactly like I knew he would.“You know his birthday is coming up.”
“Is it?” I ask with disinterest, shimmying into my jeans.
“Oh, don’t be an asshole and pretend you didn’t know.”
“I didn’t,” I lie as I snag my cap from the dresser.
“You’re a terrible liar,”he says. Something sounds in the background.“Look, I have to go, but start thinking of stuff we can do on his birthday, okay? It’s soon?—”
“The end of the summer isn’t soon.”
“Ha! So you do know when it is!”
I curse myself and Elton under my breath. “I’m hanging up on you.”
“Love you, bro. Be cool to my brother.”
“Yeah, love you too,” I grumble back, then hang up immediately, before he can give me any more things to do for him.
Jogging down the stairs, I groan at my phone when I see I’m running late. It’s when I’m looking down to text Britt that I run into a brick wall. Or at least that’s what it feels like. My head snaps up to meet Everest’s amused eyes. He takes a step back, barely, and why the fuck is he still not wearing any clothes?
He holds a plastic water bottle in his hands, fiddling with it as he looks me up and down. “You headed to work?”
“Clearly,” I mutter, but I don’t move away. Not when he steps even closer.
He chuckles, nodding slowly as he brings the bottle up to his lips. “You going to come home early again?”
It’s such an innocent question, but I know it’s anything but that. I feel vindicated as he takes a sip of his water, eyes locked on mine, his message loud and clear.
Are you going to be around for another show?
I act before I think, something that only tends to happen around him. Slapping the water out of his hands, I slam him against the fridge, only a bit satisfied when he hisses at the contact.
“I know what you’re doing,” I snarl, using the full length of my body to keep him trapped.
“And what am I doing?” he questions, breaths soft and puffy and expectant, not looking at all scared like I wanted him to.
I lean in closer to make sure he can see me and every intention I hold. “Whatever game you’re playing, you’ll find that I'm competitive as hell. Whatever you’re trying to do, I’ll win.”
“Really?” he snorts. Mischief dances in his eyes as he arches his back and rubs his hips against mine. “Doesthisfeel like you’re winning, Rhys?”
The hard outline of his cock dragging against me makes everything in my body tighten.
But I still don’t move, no matter how much I know I should.
Instead, I wrap one hand around his throat, pressing my thumb uncomfortably under his chin to tip his face up.
Two can play at this game.
“Is this a cry for attention?” I smirk when his nostrils flare, and he tries to rip his face out of my hold. Doubling down my grip, I press his face so his cheek is plastered against the fridge and I can breathe my next words against his cheek. “Do you need someone to get you there, Everest? Is that slutty hole of yours desperate to be filled by something real?”
He bristles under my touch, momentarily shocked, before steeling his expression. “Fuck you.”
