Page 11 of Worth the Risk

More people had arrived and were milling around or making themselves comfortable on the couches. Landon pulled his phone out to check the clock.

“It’s about time. I’ll just be back there.” Landon thumbed over his shoulder toward the stairs. “If you need anything.”

Justin smiled at him and nodded. “Thanks.”

Landon stepped away and turned on his heel, maneuvering through the people to a small alcove near the top of the staircase. In the alcove was a door that led to one of the six private play rooms they had upstairs. He leaned against the wall as one of Justin and Micah’s friends, a beefy looking dude with the thickest thighs Landon had ever seen, called everyone’s attention toward the stage.

Landon eased his way deeper into the corner, well aware that Gregory hadn’t come upstairs behind him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hopeful that the corner he’d tucked into was dark enough to obscure him when he finally did come up. Of course it wasn’t, though, and he opened his eyes with a resigned sigh when he felt Gregory’s presence fill the space in front of him.

“Landon,” Gregory whispered.

Landon shook his head violently. “Stop saying my name like you still own it.”

“I just want to talk.” Gregory held his hands up like he was surrendering.

“I don’t.” Landon stepped deeper into the space. “This isn’t the time. Your friends probably need you.”

Landon gestured over Gregory’s shoulder toward the loft area behind them.

“Later, then,” Gregory retorted.

Landon scoffed. “You don’t get to make those kinds of decisions for me anymore.”

Gregory’s eyes sparked with hurt, and he stepped back, turning and leaving Landon alone.

Landon inhaled, and he hated the way his breath shook with the effort required to fill his lungs. He hated the way his knees wanted to buckle for Gregory—still, and again. He dropped his head against the playroom door and closed his eyes, focusing on the thump of the bass from downstairs, catching words of commitment and promise from Justin and Micah as they filtered over the steady beats.

There was a burst of applause, some catcalls and hollers, then very shortly after the telltale sounds of skin colliding with skin. He pressed the heel of his hand against his dick through the leathers, hoping to turn off the now Pavlovian response to the sights and sounds of play. He sensed Gregory’s body enter the alcove again, but this time he didn’t open his eyes. He let go of his cock and fisted his hands at his sides.

Gregory’s breath dusted across his face and he screwed his eyes closed tighter. Gregory’s fingers danced against Landon’s hips and his body trembled, assaulted by long-forgotten feelings. Someone cried out and whimpered, no doubt Micah being soothed by Justin, and Landon’s cock responded, pressing against the thick fly of his pants. Gregory’s palms cupped Landon’s hips and then his hands were holding Landon steady, firm and familiar in their dominance.

Landon’s heart slammed against his chest and he felt Gregory take a step closer. Landon stepped away, his back thudding into the wall, but Gregory’s hands did not lose their place on his hips.

“I don’t owe you anything,” Landon mumbled, finally finding the willpower to force his eyes open. He startled, not expecting Gregory’s face to be as close as it was. Hurt played across Gregory’s eyes again as he studied Landon’s face.

“I know,” Gregory confirmed with a solemn nod. His thumb made slow circles around the front of Landon’s hip and it relaxed him, reminding him of the repetitive motions Verity used to calm him down when he got worked up. A small part of him resented that Gregory was able to do the same—after all this time, after he’dabandonedLandon the way he had.

“But I’ll ask anyway,” Gregory added on, flexing his hands around Landon’s hips. “Would you ever kneel for me again?”

Landon’s eyelids fluttered closed and he rolled his eyes trying to stay his tears. His emotions warred with each other, anger battling against lust against comfort against unadulterated, pent-up rage.

He opened his eyes and hoped the dim amber light of the alcove didn’t reflect off his unshed tears. He managed to angle a sharp look at Gregory without crying.

“You kneel.” Landon shoved Gregory’s hands off of his waist and nearly doubled over in anguish when Gregory held his hands out, palms up, and dropped to his knees at Landon’s feet.

Landon stared down at Gregory’s bowed head and watched as a tear escaped and landed in the mess of Gregory’s hair. If he felt it, he made no indication. In fact, he made no move at all.

Landon had spent his first year of college imagining this moment—Gregory kneeling at his feet. But the Gregory in his mind was just Greg, and he was smaller, more youthful, and he begged for Landon to forgive him. God, the way he had begged him. And, at the time, the manifestation of that fantasy was all Landon had hoped for in his life. But here, in the club that he owned, with the community he’d built, his long-lost Dom on his knees begging for forgiveness did nothing for him besides bathe him in regret.

Gregory still hadn’t moved intentionally, his shoulders rising and falling with the slow steady breaths he was taking, and Landon hated him. He hated how easily Gregory fell to his knees as if offering submission was an easy thing, as if the things Landon had given him when they were kids wereeasy. As if the things he’d offered were anything less than complicated, and tangled, and fucking perfect and beautiful. Landon resented the way Gregory was acting like a moment of silent acquiescence was enough to forgive what he’d done, and he loathed himself for even asking for it in the first place.

“Leave me alone, Gregory.” Landon forced the full name out of his mouth and hoped it was laced with more venom than lust. He stepped around Gregory, still frozen on his knees, and went downstairs.

5

Gregory

Gregory dropped backonto his heels and took what felt like the first full breath he’d had in an hour. He stood and brushed his knees off then stepped out of the alcove.