Chapter Six
Booker
Frey’s emotional outburst during dinner left Booker having a hard time trying to disassociate himself from the feisty fox who wanted him to go kick those shit heads in the balls. But that wasn’t the only thing on his mind, fuck no.
Taylin and Hollis were…
He unbuttoned his shirt and hooked it on the back of the bathroom door, doing his best to avoid thinking about exactly what Hollis and Taylin were getting up to. Who the fuck goes on a work trip knowing they were going to go into heat?
Hollis’s announcement about his brother going to help him get through his heat had floored them all. Rue and Kodi hadn’t noticed what was going on, so Booker was pretty confident nobody noticed his distraction over Frey.
He did not need his brothers getting on his case. He was already struggling with seeing this other side of Frey. What they’d found at the factory had given Booker a new insight into Frey. He’d believed that Frey was fickle. That he was only concerned about himself and getting naked with whomever was interested. There was no faking the emotions he’d displayed and now Booker thought about how he’d behaved in the factory, it gave him a whole new perspective on the little fox.
He ran a hand over his bearded jaw and stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. What the fuck was he going to do? Resisting Frey was much easier when he thought he was shallow… now… fuck!
To top it off, he now couldn’t decide if he was envious of Taylin or terrified for him about what it all meant. It was a hard call and now, back in their suite with Frey on the opposite side of the door, Booker’s head was a fucked up mess.
Naked, pissed, and needing a distraction, he turned on the shower. He wanted to wash the smell of the factory from his skin, making him feeling dirty long after the visit.
“You going to be long?” Frey’s voice penetrated through the door and over the sound of the water.
“Not too long,” he called back, not thinking too hard about him being naked near Frey. It was getting harder.
He closed his eyes and groaned in despair when the vision of the omegas they’d found abused and treated like slaves, replaced Frey’s sunny smile.
The work they produced on the leather accessories Booker wanted for the next season's fashion launch was stunningly beautiful, he would not deny it. But at what cost to them?
The unanswered questions pounded at his brain .
What were they doing to those men?
Frey was right, they’d left them there… alone and suffering. He’d smelled fear. It burned his nose as he’d walked around, watching as the omegas at the workbenches had cowered away. The silence was oppressive, as were the stares directed at the omegas from the weapon wielding alphas. He fucking hated that they’d had to leave. Despite the call they’d had with Dad to talk over their options, it didn’t sit well with Booker knowing something was seriously wrong. Dad had been clear that to achieve their prime directive—buying the place—they had to keep their cards close to their chest. Walk away and fight behind the scenes, especially now they’d found out the place was owned by divergent haters.
Booker had always supported the underdog. It was how he’d found his way into Lane and Derick Starling’s family. How they’d become his life raft in a storm of his own making by fighting to protect his friend—fighting his family.
Seeing where his thoughts were headed—right down the toilet—he stepped into the shower. The hot, steamy water poured over him from a rainfall shower head and he growled in pleasure, impressed that he could indeed stand tall and not have to bow like normal in hotel room bathrooms. At six foot six, he often had to slouch, which he hated.
Reaching for the shower gel, he flipped the lid and rolled his eyes when the spicy scent was all Frey.
Was life going to cut him break?
He eyed the bottle and cursed when he realized he’d left his own wash bag in his room. He held his breath and washed himself super-fast. Out of the shower, he dripped on the floor, grabbing a towel to drape around his hips. Water drops caught in his chest hair and ran down his stomach. He went into his bedroom and grabbed his toilet bag. Back in the bathroom, he brushed his teeth and plopped his toothbrush into the glass on the counter, next to Frey’s. At the intimacy of such an act, he snatched the toothbrush right back out of the glass, staring at the one sitting harmlessly in the glass. He gulped when an unbidden thought popped into his head.
Did Frey have a boyfriend… several boyfriends?
None of your damn business!
The fox flirted with everyone, and Booker reminded himself Jupiter had already laid claim to the fox, which put him in the ‘none of your business’ column. He’d never ask Jupiter about it either… it wasn’t his business. Frey was off limits.
Not that Booker wanted him to be in his limit zone…
Still staring at the pink toothbrush, he shook himself visibly, when he couldn’t decide if he should put the toothbrush back in the glass.
Sad… plain sad.
A loud knocking on the door made Booker whirl and fling the toothbrush in his fright. “Can you hurry please… I need to pee.”
A vision of a wet patch on the carpet they’d have to explain got him reaching to pick up the toothbrush and fling it in on the counter, before opening the door without any thought about his attire.
Frey’s alarmed squeal was loud enough he made Booker’s ears ring and bring forth his protective nature .
“What’s wrong,” he came past Frey, putting him behind him, searching the room for whatever had caused the fox’s distress.
“What is it?” he demanded, confused when he could see nothing that would cause Frey to make a noise like that.
He spun back to Frey, who was staring at him so oddly he had to take stock for a moment. Booker’s eyes narrowed as he tilted his head. Water dripped from his hair onto his shoulders… his bare shoulders.
He glanced down at his hairy chest.
Shit!
When he returned his attention to Frey, he hadn’t moved or replied and continued to eye him… hungrily?
Booker’s cock stirred at the idea, intrigued. He tested the theory by moving a hand to stroke down the wet fur on his chest.
Frey’s eyes tracked the move, his Adam’s apple bobbing when Booker’s hand stopped at the treasure trail that led beneath the knotted towel. He paused and watched closely as his hand took the path back up his chest.
Frey blushed a pretty pink, the tip of his tongue coming out between little white teeth as his eyes hooded.
Interesting!
Shagged your brother!
The reminder got him lifting the hand to wave in front of Frey’s face. “What’s with you?” he asked, tongue in cheek. The fox liked to flirt. That had to mean he enjoyed what happened after that, didn’t it ?
Frey blinked and looked at Booker directly, the color in his cheeks darkening as he hopped from one foot to the other, reminding Booker why he’d come out of the bathroom in the first place. “I… erm… yeah… what?”
Booker bit the inside of his cheek to hold back his laughter and pointed to the open door. Frey looked at him nonplussed until Booker nudged him toward the bathroom. “You need to pee.”
“Ohhh…” he muttered, and darted for the door, slamming it shut behind him. When Booker heard the lock click, only then did he release the laughter tickling the back of his throat. It felt good after the day and evening they’d had.
His amusement fled as he looked about and realized he was in Frey’s bedroom. He had scattered his personal things about the room. There on the bed was a pale pink set of what looked like silky nightwear.
Booker backed his way to the door, his cock tenting the towel as he never took his eyes off the bed. He reached blindly behind, hearing sounds in the bathroom that said he needed to escape, and now. Out the door, he ran—yep, ran like the devil was chasing him—back to his room, where he slammed the door and leaned against it, panting.
If his brothers could only see him now! Running from a tiny fox… what the fuck was happening to him?