Page 110 of Studs Up
“He’s deep in the closet,” I said. Rummaging in the cupboards, I looked for the bottle of Baileys or that whiskey I picked up last year. Fuck, I’d pour tequila into my coffee if it made this conversation bearable. “And you should go before you ruin it for me.”
“So are you. I want to know who you could trust enough to bring to your fortress of solitude.”
“Alex,” I hissed. He didn’t know about the blackmail, and he certainly couldn’t know about Nolan. But Nolan was Nolan, and there was no keeping that secret.
“It’s someone you know, isn’t it?” Alex had a detective face on. “If this was a random hook up, you wouldn’t be freaking out.”
“I’m not freaking out.” I wished he would be quieter. Where the fuck was the booze? I wasn’t a big drinker, and this was what I got for reorganizing my kitchen in the middle of the night.
I paused my search. I hadn’t done that all year. My kitchen was exactly the same for almost a year. I stopped doing it after Nolan.
“You are totally freaking out.”
He was going to suspect, deduce, and solve this mystery, and it kicked my heart rate up. I did not need this. What I needed more than anything was Alex gone before Nolan woke up.
Any and all plans went out the window when Nolan sauntered into the kitchen, buck ass naked and looking like the glorious god he was. He gave us both a once over and continued his saunter to the fridge. Not a single fuck was given about his cock swinging in the air, and I had a hard time not staring.
Alex’s mouth fell open, his chin dangling like a gawking cartoon character. I groaned and slumped back into the corner of the kitchen. Welp, fuck.
“Nolan Reed,” Alex hissed. “You’re fucking Nolan Reed.”
Nolan pulled a half full bottle of orange juice from my fridge and spun off the cap, tossing it into the garbage.
Alex’s head was whipping from Nolan to me and back again.
“You’re gay?” He sputtered.
Nolan turned, guzzling my orange juice. He locked eyes with Alex and drank until the bottle was empty. He finished, took a deep, satisfied breath, and answered.
“I don’t know what the fuck I am.” He dropped the empty bottle in the trash. “Don’t particularly care. What I do know is that he has a tight little ass I like to fill with my dick.”
It was my turn for my chin to hit the floor. And my cock twitched because, of course, it did.
“You’re a real poet, you know that?” I gasped.
“Ma always thought I was.” He grinned, slapped my ass, and took off down the hall.
“You have to be kidding,” Alex found enough air to talk. “Nolan Reed?”
How could I make Alex understand what this meant to me? The real Nolan was special and didn’t share it with anyone. It would be hard for Alex to see what I did and even more challenging to make him understand how badly I needed that man.
“No,” I said. “I’m not kidding.”
“Well,” Alex said with eyes as wide as saucers. “He’s a little outside your type.”
“Despite that,” I waved my hand at the hall and then to the world in general. “And the rest of it, he’s actually very sweet.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed.
“Sweet?” He hissed. “Nolan The Biggest Asshole in the League Reed is not fucking sweet.” Genuine anger was taking over Alex.
“He’s not what you think,” I said.
“I thought you hated him. Fuck, I thought he hated you?”
“You can thank Mirren for fixing that,” I said, trying to keep the flush from spreading all the way across my skin. I should have grabbed a sweater.
“Oh my god,” Alex’s eyes slid out of focus. “So all that fighting was really foreplay?”
