Page 33 of Three

I stand up and zip my jeans. My cum-wet boxers don’t lessen this jelly, floating, post-coital feeling. But the sweet pleasure is quickly being chased away by dullness.

I pick up the gloves from the ground, and while putting them on, I see Hunter’s eyes on the large burn covering my left hand. And that’s why I use gloves, to avoid the questioning. Well, that’s one of the reasons. The main one is that they help me forget at times about my condition. It’s like I trick myself into thinking that I don’t feel touch because of these gloves covering my hands—even though I’m aware that’s not true. I mean, I can’t smell or taste either.

Sick, right? Lying to myself. Kind of ridiculous and pathetic. But if a small, harmless lie helps keep me going, who am I to disagree?

“What happened?” Hunter finally asks. I didn’t expect him to care enough to be curious. Maybe it’s just his P.I. side coming out.

“Oil burn. I was a kid.” The half-truth I usually give comes easily out of my lips. I didn’t expect a reaction from him either, but his eyes darken.Oo-kay.

“This was fun, Grizzly.” I wink.

It really was. And that’s why I’m not done with him yet.

“I’ll text you the place tomorrow. Don’t be late,” I add before walking back inside the café to grab my tumbler.

A text from Uri arrives.

Uri: Malcom Bindy wasn’t there.

Fuck!

five

HUNTER

I walk inside the twenty-four seven market and see Ramiel straight away. It’s quite impossible not to.

He’s built in all the right places. Those black jeans wrap around his muscular ass like a second skin, and his snug thermal shirt stretches over his big shoulders and trim waist. His thick mane of copper-red hair is messily falling down around his head. He turns, and those pondering pouty lips catch my attention, reminding me how tightly they sucked my cock dry the night before. I had to force myself not to come down his throat.

He’s got a light stubble. His gorgeous, light brown eyes are focused on the two bags of chips he’s holding.

I have never seen someone who looks that tempting and so completely puzzling at the same time.

He looks up, and his familiar naughty smirk curls his mouth—that erotic mouth I know very well what it’s capable of. But only one dimple comes out. I suddenly find myself wanting to see the other two.

“Grizzly! What do you think, barbecue or triple heat? Don’t tell me you’re a sour cream guy.” He pushes the bags toward me.

“Barbecue. What are we doing here?” I ask him, trying to ignore the way his fresh-green, heady smell affects me.

“Isn’t it obvious? Grocery shopping. Did I accidentally suck some brain cells through your cock too yesterday? It wouldn’t be the first time,” he jokes as he throws both bags in the cart and pushes it down the aisle.

A woman nearby sends us a horrified look before hurriedly moving away.

“Did you enjoy your massage? Tod gives happy endings, but you always choose Phil.”

I freeze for a second. “How the fuck do you know…? Did you and Serena follow me?” I’m filled with irritation—toward myself. I didn’t notice Ramiel. How the fuck is that possible?

“So cute of you to include Serena.” He presses his hand to his chest, looking all impish and shit. “And yes, we did. It was only fair to return the favor. Tod gives amazing massages.”

Does that mean he got a happy ending?A snarl starts in my chest, but I block it.

“Can you grab those chips? The taco-flavored ones,” he instructs me.

“You like strong flavors.”

“Yes, I do.” Ramiel wiggles his brows at me, licking his lips. The innuendo is very clear. And I do fucking remember how much he enjoyed licking his cum-covered fingers clean. Covered inmycum.

I grit my teeth and pass him the chips while noticing that he’s doing his best to avoid brushing his fingers against mine. He’s wearing gloves again. Blue ones this time. Is it to cover the burn on the backof his hand? He doesn’t seem like someone who cares about what people think. He almost screamed about blowing me a second ago in a supermarket filled with people.