Page 46 of High

Manny

The music thudding through the room wasn’t overwhelming, but between the driving beat and the groups of people gathered everywhere, I was beginning to feel hemmed in. The black paint on the walls that reminded me of the night outside didn’t help with that feeling, either, because everything combined to make the room seem smaller. The main gathering was in what I guessed was Odin’s party room, what with the long bar, and how most people seemed comfortable hanging around doing nothing here. Groups of chairs and leather couches had been added around the space that weren’t here earlier. My papá had hangout spots at his house in Pedregal that were nearly identical to this one, except for the color scheme and decorations, and the similarities had me on edge.

Plus, I still had some sand itching in several unpleasant places that were slowly driving me insane.

It all would have been worse, except Thio had his strong arm around my shoulders, acting as my anchor. He wriggled his fingers between my arm and side and tickled the sensitive spot there. I tried to elbow him but ended up laughing instead. The ass didn’t stop. He turned and smiled, so easy and relaxed that he shocked the breath right out of me with how happy he looked. After the beach I couldn’t blame him. The afterglow from getting off underneath him still had my muscles loose. I’d never done anything like that—never experienced anything so spontaneous and good.

“How are you doing?” Thio kissed my ear and the warm gust of air from his breath tickled too. His teasing caused a nice rippling sensation to streak from my ear, shiver down my spine, explode in my belly, and sink deliciously into my groin. Mierda. Tickling. What a strange thing to have my dick plumping.

“Great. You may have ruined me for wrestling around, though.” I grinned at him. Fuck, it seemed like I’d be getting hard anytime he tickled me from now on.

Thio’s puzzled glance had me laughing. Apparently not bothered by my behavior, he urged me to stand a little closer to his side, even though we were already pressed together. My hip bumped his.

Rafael leaned toward us and was going to say something, his sharp jaw firm with tension, but abruptly closed his mouth to glare over Thio’s shoulder.

“What?” Thio asked and then drained the glass he held. He smacked his lips and hummed, content with the alcohol, which was some Japanese whiskey everyone had made a lot of impressed noises about when the bartender passed it over.

Rafael jerked his chin and continued to focus his glare behind us.

Thio turned us both around to see who Rafael was giving such a nasty look.

Santi stood there, his arms crossed. He’d put on different clothing for the party, but the change was more sideways than dressing up because the only difference was nicer leather pants and boots.

“Hey!” Thio was on his third glass of whiskey, not that he seemed seriously affected, but I rolled my eyes as he dragged his cousin into a hug that nearly had all three of us conking heads. Santi gave me a friendly shoulder pat and laughed. “There you are, Santi. I thought you weren’t going to come talk with us.”

Just then several grumpy-faced men escorted the guy who had been with Killough earlier—his boyfriend he’d kissed like he was worried he’d never get another chance—into the room. The man smiled when he glanced up and our gazes met. I found myself smiling back, just to be friendly, but then felt guilty because I wasn’t sure if that would make Thio look bad. I didn’t really understand the politics of all of this. Deep down I felt like it was stupid that grown men couldn’t be civil, but once money got involved, everyone lost their heads.

Just look at Papá.

My stomach went queasy when I remembered the man who had literally lost his brains on the ground outside my new home. Our new home. It still didn’t seem possible that I’d watched Thio shoot someone, not even after I’d seen it again this evening. I huddled closer to his side, but my stomach didn’t calm.

Killough’s boyfriend sat down on a nearby leather chair, and the big men with him moved behind him like he was Jefe, scowling at the rest of the room. His lips were very pink and the way he had his hair up in a bun at the back of his head left his curved neck very exposed. One guy, maybe the shortest man in the room, looked bored out of his mind. Killough’s boyfriend leaned his head back to say something and the short guy busted out laughing. Only a few seconds later, Killough strolled over to his boyfriend, a drink in hand, and as he passed the glass to him, Killough kissed him softly. I knew Thio hated Killough, but his hair was a shocking white-blond that I liked because it was so… bold. I found myself staring.

Thio tensed beside me and I rested my temple against his shoulder. “You know, they’re kind of hot,” I turned to whisper into his ear. He followed my gaze and then shivered beside me like a cold wind had smacked him.

“What do you mean?” His tone was… I had trouble placing it, but a tingle of danger clenched low in my gut. My confused dick loved it. Why did being a little scared of Thio’s reaction have me getting a semi? Maybe because I knew he wouldn’t ever really hurt me, no matter what, and that left us more interesting options of working out his anger…. Fuck, I was glad he’d never slept with me before I got locked up. Even with years to imagine it, I hadn’t been able to envision how exciting it was to be with him, and it would have killed me to wait to have this again.

“I mean”—I lightly poked Thio’s side—“they’re hot.” He tickled me back, and I grabbed his finger to stop a second assault. “As in, they’d be hot to see… you know? Verlos coger?”

He chuckled deep in his chest. “Yeah, they are, but don’t say that too loud. Those are egos that need no stroking, especially by you, hermoso.” He wriggled his hand free from my grip and then slid his fingertips down my arm. I sucked in a deep breath. My dick definitely wanted some of that action because I felt myself getting hard enough that soon it wouldn’t be something that I—or anyone else standing close by—could ignore. My cheeks scorched.

Another man, who I didn’t know, strode in and stopped to angle himself toward us near Killough and his boyfriend. His suit was a similar cut to Killough’s, and I got the strange thought they were a matched set. He made eye contact with Thio, who nodded at him.

“Aye. There you are, Reyes. Are you going to play spades? A wee game of chance?” The man’s thick Irish accent carried above all of the conversations around us, and a couple of Lords bikers shifted around to watch him. The Irishman cocked his head to the side, as if considering me, and my throat felt like it shrank three sizes while he looked me up and down, and then he winked.

“I don’t know, Shannon. The Irish cheat.” Thio shook his head, and I expected the man to be angry, but he only laughed.

“Yes, join us,” Killough said and then stood, giving his boyfriend a final kiss, and Thio stiffened against my side. “Hand me your money.” His smile slid into a very self-assured smirk.

Santi leaned closer to us and murmured, softly enough that I didn’t think anyone but us could hear him over the music, “Odin thinks you should join us at the card table to establish a respectful comradery. He thinks you and Killough could, at the very least, learn to not piss each other off on sight. Business associates is his goal for you two, but I told him that was a pipedream.”

Thio snorted and tilted his head to the side for a moment before he nodded at Killough and his men.

“Besides,” Santi said loudly, “there’s betting, and Odin wants to take everyone’s money. He’s been talking about taking a vacation to Bali.”

Killough let out a bite of laughter at that. “He’s optimistic.”

“He didn’t actually say he’d take our money,” Thio said and shook his glass in Santi’s direction, like it was a judging finger. “You’re full of shit.”