Page 2

Chapter Two

Isaiah

A s I drove back to my condo in the west end, with a motorcycle rider hard on my ass, I kind of marveled at my luck.

First time I’d tried that bar.

My buddy on the team had mentioned it the other day.

Johnnie was always trying to set me up. He and Roger had a competition going as to who would be successful at helping me find my forever man .

I’d worried. Coming out as gay while playing on a professional rugby team.

In the end, though, I needn’t have been concerned.

A couple of guys were…unimpressed.

Johnnie and Roger quickly put them in their place. Probably helped Johnnie was captain of the team and Roger had been with the team the longest.

Wonderful, they were dedicated to setting me up with guys.

Only…they always picked the wrong kind of men.

Awkward.

The guy in the bar tonight? Oh, sweet Lord, all the right kind of guy.

Size didn’t matter to me. Looks absolutely never swayed me. No, I was looking for compatibility—as in me, wanting someone to tell me what to do. And, praying a little here, that he preferred to top.

I signaled and then turned into my parking garage.

He followed me into the underground.

I pointed to a visitor spot.

He gave a little nod and parked.

After I slid my own vehicle into a spot, I hustled to get out and make my way back to him.

He stood next to his sweet ride, with his helmet in his hands. His long, graying-brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. His blue eyes sparkled mischief. His mouth turned up into a smile. Even his scar appeared less pronounced in the light of the garage. “You ready?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Great. You want to talk or just…?”

Of course I wanted to talk. I always wanted to talk. But talking might derail this—whatever this was—and in no way was I going to risk that. “I’m good with action.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“Yes. That.”

“I’m going to have you screaming.” He pitched his voice low.

The garage was usually empty, but heat still crept into my cheeks as his words bounced off the concrete.

Then he moved closer. “I love that I can make you blush.”

I tried really hard not to sniff. He had a soap-and-water vibe to him. No cologne or false scent.

Much like me. “I’m on the ninth floor.”

“I like heights. There’s nothing quite like seeing the city from the top of the world.”

Unsure of what he meant, but also unwilling to wait much longer, I gestured to the entrance to the elevator lobby. We were two floors below ground, and so it would be eleven floors up. Eleven torturous floors.

“Yeah, let’s do this.” Another wicked grin.

He followed me, and I used my fob to get us to the elevators.

As always, neither elevator car was there, so we waited.

“I, uh, don’t know your name.” Right, like that’s not the dorkiest statement ever. Of course you don’t know his name…he hasn’t given it to you.

Yet he grinned. “Badarse.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Yeah, but I’ve heard of badass before, but not—”

The bell chimed and the elevator door swept open.

We stepped inside.

I pressed the button for my floor, and the elevator began its climb upward. I lived in one of the older buildings on the westside—pretty much all I could afford.

“One of the guys on my crew, back when I was first starting, called me Badarse. He was Aussie.”

“Crew?”

His nose twitched. “Construction.”

Said with just enough edge to make it clear we weren’t going to pursue this particular avenue of conversation.

I could take a hint. I didn’t offer my name. Apparently we weren’t going the intimacy route tonight. Fine by me .

Or so I told myself.

The bell chimed, and we exited the elevator.

I gestured for him to follow me to 913. To my relief, he did.

I hadn’t been certain if I’d screwed things up by asking his name.

Generally, in the throes of passion, I liked to use a guy’s name.

Upon reflection of this evening so far, I suspected Sir might go over quite well.

I unlocked the door and stepped in first so I could flip on the lights.

Then I stood aside to let him in.

I locked the door and before I could do anything, he was already removing his black leather biker boots. In response, I toed off my running shoes.

He removed his jacket.

I hung it on the coat tree, then added my own. We were already in the third week of September, and weather could be unpredictable.

Tonight was brisk, with a breeze coming off the ocean. The meteorologist predicted rain tomorrow for our game.

That was fine. I didn’t mind getting wet. “Uh, do you want something to drink?” Because being a good host was a thing.

“I’ll take a glass of water, and then what I want is you. Naked. On the bed.”

Part of me wanted to point out that we hadn’t even kissed.

The rest of me—led by my very interested cock—pointed out kissing was highly overrated and naked was a very good thing.

I headed to the kitchen, grabbed two bottles of water, and then led him into my bedroom. I handed him a water, placed mine on the nightstand, then made a show of pulling the condoms and lube out of my drawer.

Just in case he might think safe sex wasn’t on the agenda for tonight.

My mama raised me to be careful.

As I unbuttoned my jeans, Badarse headed over to the window.

In these older buildings, the windows didn’t tend to be floor-to-ceiling.

If I wanted the best perspective, I’d escape to my sliding glass door and my tiny balcony. Just enough space for two loungers.

Just before I let my jeans fall in a heap to the floor, I remembered my cell phone. I extracted it from my back pocket, hooked it up to the charger by my bed, and continued to hastily remove my clothes.

Jeans, underwear, and T-shirt all dropped haphazardly to the floor. Socks yanked off. Then I pulled back my comforter and crawled onto the king bed. With my size, I didn’t have much chance at dignity.

Mama always told me Dad had been a big guy and that I’d taken after him. In fact, she reckoned I was even bigger. I never asked about him. A painful divorce when I was three had left her hurting in ways I saw clearer now that I was an adult.

“Uh, do you want me on my front or my back?” I didn’t really have a preference. Well, except I kinda liked looking a guy in the eyes when he came. With strangers? I didn’t care one way or the other. Not really.

“You comfortable on your front?”

Does he mean because of my size or some psychological thing? “I’m fine that way.”

“Great. I’m going to prep you.”

My semi plumped nicely at that idea.

“And it’s going to be good.”

I offered what I thought of as my cocky grin. “I’m counting on it.”