Page 28

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mad dog

We were supposed to meet the boys after their golfing excursion and figure out a plan for the evening. That was the idea, anyway. But somewhere between Venice Beach and the Ritz-Carlton, a different plan took shape in my head. I glanced at Nate, hoping I wasn’t about to start trouble.

“You’ve been to West Hollywood, right?” I asked.

He shot me a look, already suspicious. “Yeah. Remember how I told you about Logan picking up a guy who turned out to be someone he’d already hooked up with?” Nate narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

The Uber driver glanced at us in the mirror, making me hesitate. Screw that. I’m Mad Dog, and Nate and I are boyfriends. I put on a bold smile. “My buddy Eckie and his husband go there whenever they visit LA. When Eckie and I were texting the other day, he said we should check it out.”

Nate pressed his lips together and brushed his thumb over the bracelet on my wrist. “I don’t know. We’ve had a long day.”

“It’s been amazing.” I waggled my eyebrows. “We could cap it off with a night in one of the most famous gay neighborhoods in the country.”

He gave me a look. “You know it would…”

When he trailed off, I pushed ahead. “Come on, you know we’ll have fun. I want to see what it’s like. We aren’t in LA often, and this is our only shot until next year unless we book a trip this summer.”

He gazed at the passing lights outside the window and let out a long-suffering sigh. “All right. I’d like to experience that with you. Let’s do it.”

We arrived back at the hotel as the boys were rolling in. Nate and I slipped upstairs for a quick PG-rated shower before changing for dinner.

Afterward, we found the guys in one of the hotel restaurants. They were planning to hit a sports bar later and invited us along, but we said we had other plans. Nobody batted an eye. Before heading out, we checked with Gabe, Brody, and Harpy in case any of them wanted to tag along. They were tired from golf but told us to have a good time.

“Have you guys seen Logan or Riley?” Gabe asked. “Neither of them showed for golf, and they’re not answering their phones.”

Nate shook his head. “Maybe they found something better to do. Riley’s got a habit of going off the grid and popping back up like nothing happened.”

“Logan’s the same,” Gabe said. “Hopefully they’re together, but either way, they know how to take care of themselves.”

* * *

Our Lyft dropped us on Santa Monica Boulevard, and as soon as I stepped onto the sidewalk, the world turned up the volume. Music thumped from every direction, merging with the sounds of voices and laughter ricocheting off glass storefronts. My heart shifted into high gear.

The air buzzed with energy and heat. The smells of cologne, street tacos, weed, and sweat all swirled together into what had to be the most unique aromatherapy ever. People flowed past in every direction, dressed in everything from harnesses to full-on club outfits like this was just another night. It was chaos, it was wild, and it was already perfect.

I tugged at the hem of my black button-down, second-guessing my outfit. I’d never been anywhere like this—queer on purpose—and my nerves were throwing a goddamn rave in my chest.

“That’s it up there,” Nate said, pointing.

About a block ahead, a cluster of buildings glowed in shifting rainbow light. Spotlights swept across the sky, and the sidewalk was packed with people lined up trying to get inside.

“Which one?” I asked.

“All of them.” Nate bumped my shoulder. “They combined them into one giant megaclub called Prism. It’s the biggest place in WeHo.”

As we got closer, the music intensified. The facade was sleek black with mirrored panels that caught the colored lights and threw back fractured glimpses of the waiting crowd. Above the entrance, PRISM blazed in silver block letters, haloed by a rotating LED light show that made the entrance shimmer like a doorway to another dimension.

Two bouncers in matching crop tops and combat boots managed the flow of bodies. I’d been to plenty of clubs, but never anything like this. When Nate reached for my hand, I squeezed back, thrilled to be there with him. We didn’t have to wait long because one of the bouncers was a hockey fan and recognized Nate. After a little conversation, he let us through.

Stepping inside was like being swallowed by sound and light. The main room was massive and open, with vaulted ceilings and a glittering chandelier shaped like a disco ball mid-explosion. Light refracted off mirrored walls and flashed across the dance floor, where a crush of sweaty bodies moved in time with a thundering remix. Shirtless bartenders worked behind an illuminated bar that stretched the entire back wall, slinging cocktails like it was a competitive sport.

The place was a riot of sound, color, and bodies. In the first few seconds, I caught flashes of leather and lace, sheer mesh shirts, cowboy boots, and neon eyeliner that glowed under the lights. Drag queens strutted through the crowd like royalty, parting the sea of couples—every configuration imaginable. I’d never seen anything like it, and my heart pounded as a grin broke across my face. This was awesome.

Nate leaned in, his mouth brushing my ear. “You okay?”

I gave a nervous laugh. “I have no fucking clue what I’m doing, but I’m really glad I’m doing it with you.”

He grinned. “I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else. Are you nervous?”

“Fuck yeah. You?”

Our eyes met, and he nodded. “You’d better believe it, but you make it all okay.”

I took a deep breath and let the night pull me under.

Nate spotted an opening at the bar. Although there was barely enough room for one person, we wedged ourselves in like determined, thirsty sardines. The barstool didn’t stand a chance against two full-sized hockey butts, so we leaned against it instead.

“IPA?” Nate asked.

I considered playing it cool, but who was I kidding. I was in West Hollywood wearing matching bracelets with my boyfriend and riding enough adrenaline to power a city block. Cool had left the building. “This is my first time in a gay bar. Want to pretend we’re sophisticated and get real grown-up drinks?”

“You’re so fucking cute when you get excited.” He laughed and made a silly face. “Yes, to being sophisticated .”

Before I could respond, a bartender materialized in front of us. He was shirtless, tan, and had pecs that could give Nate’s a run for their money—something I wouldn’t have believed possible before tonight. A bar towel was slung over one shoulder, and a tattoo traced down his ribs like a beautiful scar. Nate ordered a vodka soda, and I went with a Jameson.

Nate arched an eyebrow. “Irish whiskey?”

“Yeah, my buddy Eckie got me started on it last year when I went to see him. It has a nice, smooth burn. Have you tried it?”

“After one too many whiskey nights in college, I’m sticking with vodka. Otherwise, my stomach might declare war.”

I brushed a kiss to his neck. “You sure? Aren’t all real hockey players whiskey men?”

He gave me a smoldering look that singed my eyebrows. “I’ll show you a real hockey player with a real stick when we get home tonight.”

“Yeah? You keep talking big.”

The bartender returned with our drinks, and we clinked glasses. While we enjoyed our first sips, I admired Nate’s sharp profile. I liked fucking him more than any sexual thing I’d ever done, and he made no secret of loving it. Though he’d talked about turning the tables, I wondered if we ever would. It was hard to imagine things being any better than they already were.

Someone bumped into me, but instead of a jostle, it was a press-and-linger . I turned to see which woman had gotten a little too touchy-feely.

“Excuse me.” The voice was light, flirty, and loaded, but it didn’t belong to a woman. The guy was cute—petite, mid-twenties, blond—and he looked me up and down like a dessert menu. “Damn,” he said. “Where did you come from?” He glanced downward and checked out my crotch for several seconds before raising his eyes. “Honey, if you want to take a break in a little while, come get me. I’ll do things you won’t ever forget.”

“Uh—hi. Thanks?” Sweat ran down my nape.

“I’m Jesse,” he added. “If you can’t find me, just ask around.”

I blinked. “Thanks for the information.”

He caught his lower lip with his teeth and drifted off into the crowd.

When I turned back to Nate, his smirk was so big it must have hurt. “Jesse has excellent taste in men, I’ll give him that.”

“Bullshit. Neither of us is giving Jesse anything but side-eye.”

Before Nate could answer, another voice cut in. “Aren’t you Nate Holcomb?”

Two guys in matching leather harnesses had appeared beside him. Both had carefree grins, bulging biceps, and long, grizzly beards.

Nate nodded. “Guilty.”

“I told you it was him,” leather man one said to leather man two, then looked at me. “And I believe you’re Chuck Madison.”

“That’s me.”

Leather man one said, “We really enjoy watching you play.”

“Thank you.” Nate smiled. “Appreciate that.”

Leather man two gave Nate a very pointed glance, like he was mentally checking off a list of things he’d like to do to him. “Hope you both have a nice evening,” he said.

They peeled off, but not before giving Nate one last full-body inspection.

After they left, Nate turned to me. “Those looks were so deep, I feel like they should’ve had to pay a cover charge and leave a tip.”

I laughed and brushed his arm with mine. “They can look all they want. You’re going home with me.”

We leaned against the bar, sipping our drinks and watching the crowd churn around us. People came and went, and while some ignored us, others were stunningly suggestive. A well-dressed middle-aged man offered us a thousand bucks each if we’d let him watch us fuck. Nate seemed too shocked to say anything, but I politely declined for both of us.

Jesse glided by again, throwing me a look that needed at least an R-rating. I met it with a bland smile and slid my arm around Nate’s waist. Jesse raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow and sashayed away like I’d failed an audition.

“This place is something else,” I told Nate.

He grinned into his drink. “Welcome to the big leagues, Chuck.”

“Know what?” I put my glass on the bar and took Nate’s hand. “Come with me. It’s time for your dance lesson.”

He anchored himself in place as if his life depended on it. “No fucking way. No dancing.”

“Come on,” I said. “Dance with me.”

He winced. “Get back over here. We’re comfortable.”

“I didn’t come here to be comfortable . Did you, gramps?”

He snorted. “Fuck you. I’ll show you who’s gramps.”

Bolting ahead, he dragged me onto the dance floor, and we wove through the gyrating bodies until we found a spot in the middle of the chaos. It was then—God help me—that Nate let loose.

His so-called dancing hadn’t improved since Christmas. It was still wild, still galumphing, and still giving off drunk-giraffe-at-a-wedding vibes. His arms sliced through the air like he was signaling a plane to land while his knees bounced in an electrified shimmy. It looked less like dancing and more like interpretive cardio—but goddamn, it was pure, unapologetic joy. His grin lit up the room, and somehow, against all odds, it was sexy as hell.

I couldn’t resist joining in. The beat got under my skin, and soon I was mirroring his moves. Nate pumped his hips in a way that should’ve been illegal, then spun in a half-circle like he was checking for predators. I grabbed his hand mid-twirl, steadied him with another on his waist, and leaned in.

“Okay,” I yelled, “stay with me.”

I started small. A hand sliding down his side smoothed his jerky bounces into a loose, rolling sway. A finger under his chin tilted his face until he was looking at me instead of his feet, and his entire presence shifted, becoming more confident and focused. I rested both hands on his hips and guided them into a rhythm, coaxing out a slow, sinful glide that left no doubt he was dancing for me now. The change was much more than visible; it was transformative. A spark caught and grew into something that could burn anyone who got too close.

We leaned into each other, moving as naturally as we did when we fucked, our bodies syncing without thought. His energy and my smoother rhythm collided into something wild and magnetic, drawing stares from every corner of the room.

When the music changed to something slow, Nate’s big hands slid to my waist. I gripped his arms, anchoring myself to the only thing that mattered in the swirling chaos. He dipped a hand inside the waistband of my jeans, staking his claim and holding me in place.

His eyes were as deep as the emotions inside me. Under the club lights, their usual hazel color had deepened, making them appear dark and molten. Everything in me went still except my heart, which pounded so hard I was sure he could feel it.

The music surged in a slow, soaring crescendo, each note swelling as the music rose, stretched, and trembled on the edge of something vast and unstoppable. It nearly swept me off my feet as it crested in a glorious, heart-shaking release that left me trembling all over. And then, without hesitation, Nate leaned in.

The kiss was all heat and hunger. His lips were insistent and sure, and when our tongues met, the rest of the world disappeared. The moment was cosmic, like I’d been waiting a lifetime for it. I grasped his shirt and pulled him closer until we were chest to chest and our cocks were grinding like they were trying to fuse into one. The contact lit me up, head to toe, but it still wasn’t enough. I wanted more; I wanted all of him.

When he slid his hand under my waistband and grabbed a handful of my ass, I groaned into his mouth. My hands found the back of his neck and stayed there. If I held him close, maybe time would stop, and this moment could last forever. Under the glittering haze of the disco ball, Nate kissed me like I was his entire universe. I held on for dear life because letting go was no longer an option.

Eventually, we came up for air. Awestruck, we drifted off the dance floor like we were floating on a cloud. Since our old spot at the bar was long gone, Nate pulled me into a quiet corner where we leaned against the wall with our foreheads pressed together.

We were struggling for air, and between pants, he said, “I guess we’re out now, huh?”

My pulse kicked, not because it scared me, but because it felt incredibly right. “Yeah. And I’m good with that if you are.”

He smiled softly, then brushed a kiss across my lips. “I love you so much it hurts,” he whispered. “I don’t care who knows.”

My chest tightened as the weight of what had happened settled in. We’d already known we were in love, but this had been more than that. A public heartbeat, a moment so vast and authentic we couldn’t keep it to ourselves. In a room full of strangers, we’d said it loud and clear: This is who we are, and we love each other too much to hide.

We both knew it was time to go. The night had already given us more than we ever expected, and there was nothing left we needed from the club. So much had changed in a single day that even going back to the hotel and making love felt small in comparison. It wouldn’t be the climax of the night. It would be the afterglow.

The future already seemed a lot bigger than it had yesterday.