Chapter 11 Archangel
ELEVEN
ARCHANGEL
All I thought about for the rest of the night was Wolfe’s mouth on mine. No one should be that good at kissing. It’s criminal.
I jacked off, and it didn’t even help, so by the next morning, I’m so worked up, I can’t think straight.
“I don’t know how I’m not going to be hard all fucking day,” I say to the mirror before I get in the shower.
I soap myself up and, of course, my brain returns to his big tattooed hands, grabbing my neck to pull me into him. He’s so big, even at my six-foot, I bet he’d be able to pick me up and manhandle me. What I would fucking give to have Wolfe slam me into something.
I wrap my hand around my cock, stroking myself slowly.
What would it be like to go down on him and have those hands wrapped around the back of my head?
I’d never fully seen him naked, despite having been in locker rooms with him since we were kids.
As a gay dude, I just avoid looking at other dudes that way.
I can’t help but wonder more about his dick, especially after him saying it matched his body size.
I bet his cock would destroy me.
And I’ve never wanted anything so bad in my entire life.
I shouldn’t be picturing it, or anything close to what being with him would be like. I need to create boundaries in my mind so I don’t get hurt. But not until I get myself off. I’m not going to make it through the day with him acting like he is without some release.
Wolfe knocks on the door, and I jump out of my skin. “You almost done in there? I thought you said you needed to be early?”
“Fuck.” I drop my cock and press my face into the tile. “You scared me.”
He laughs.
“It’s not fucking funny.” I close my eyes as I keep stroking.
This is so wrong. But if I don’t finish, my dick is going to identify as a problem.
“Are you almost done?” he asks again, still laughing.
“Maybe.” I try to keep the lust out of my tone, but I’m so close, and his voice isn’t hurting.
“We’re going to be late,” he says, and I can hear him breathing.
“Everyone is late. This is the south,” I call back, knowing my mom will be annoyed, but I force her out of my brain, willing Wolfe to say something else.
“What are you even doing in there? Skin care?”
I smile and almost find it absurd that I could get off to him saying anything. “So much skin care.” My voice betrays me, hitching at the end.
He hesitates, then says, “Must be really good because it almost sounds like sex.”
I take in his voice, not processing what he’s saying, only his vicinity. As close as I’ll ever get him, but selfishly, I take it. Letting it run through me as I stroke quicker, breath hitching, hoping he’s listening as I come.
His tone gets really low and almost growly when he continues. “I’m going to steal some.”
Pleasure washes over me, and I bask in it. Bask in his nearness.
When I can speak, I don’t even try to mask the effect of my orgasm in my tone. “I don’t think you’ll want to do that.”
“I’m doing it, anyway.” He tries the handle—thank fuck I locked it. I normally don’t. “Rude.”
“You don’t get to just see me naked,” I say, still panting as I rinse off.
“Also rude! We are dating.”
“I’m a guy with standards. You have to earn that!” I stare at the ceiling under the warm spray for a moment, wondering what I did to get myself into this situation.
“Oh, I’m gonna earn it,” Wolfe says like a threat.
We manage to make it early to the country club for the bridal shower, but only barely. Wolfe really shouldn’t have to do much. We’re only here for the day because we only have that much time to be away from school and hockey; we’re flying out early tomorrow.
I just have to get through the day, and then I’ll deal with fake dating him for the rest of the year when we need to burn that bridge.
I grab the gift out of the car while Wolfe falls out of the passenger side. “Ready?”
“I’m always ready.” Wolfe smooths a hand over his baby pink suit, and I hate him a little for how effortlessly hot he is. He loves to wear bright colors and flashy outfits before games, so I always get him clothes for Christmas.
I picked a more conservative gray, so my family didn’t throw a tantrum about dressing too “gay”, but my shirt is dyed to match his suit, and our ties coordinate, making it impossible to miss we’re here together.
It feels good, even if it’s fake.
The valet stares at Wolfe and drops my keys. I’d be upset, but since this is the reaction Wolfe draws every single day, I’m used to it.
“You look good.” Wolfe winks and takes my hand when I walk around the car.
“You look pretty fucking good yourself.” My stomach flips, and I realize I need to focus on keeping my brain out of the gutter with ten unsexy thoughts at all times.
“We make a pretty fucking sexy couple,” he goes on as we’re led to the back veranda by one of the staff.
“If only fate had been different,” I try to say without sadness, but fail miserably.
He frowns and starts to say something, but we’re cut off by my mother’s shrill voice.
“Oh, thank the Lord you are here, Wilder.”
I cringe and brace myself for the newest issue. “What’s going on?”
There is a clearly flustered event planner following at my mother’s elbow.
“Everything is all wrong.” My mother loves drama and usually manufactures her own to keep everyone around her on her toes.
“Sorry, Atticus, I didn’t even see you there.
” Like anyone could fucking miss Wolfe. I roll my eyes, but she keeps going.
“Wilder, why did you bring him with you so early? I don’t want him to see everything like this. ”
“I wasn’t going to leave him forty-five minutes away without a car, mother.”
“We could have sent a driver for him. I don’t know why you insist on driving anyway.” She huffs, but I ignore the comment.
I don’t need to explain to her for the fiftieth time why I like to drive. “He’s happy to be here.”
“Yes,” Wolfe chimes in. “I can help with whatever you need, Mrs. Archangel.”
“I would never expect you to lift a finger. Why don’t you get a mimosa?” She turns to the nervous woman next to her. “Get Atticus a drink and take this.” She takes the gift out of my hands and tosses it at the planner before stomping off toward a monstrous balloon arch.
I try to let go of Wolfe’s hand, but he keeps his iron grip on me, so I leave it. I’m not going to fight him on it. “What’s wrong?”
“I just don’t know how to fix it.”
Wolfe and I exchange a glance.
“What needs to be fixed?” I ask carefully because it’s already hideous, and I don’t want to point out another reason for her to hate it.
“It’s not symmetrical. It’s terrible.”
“I’m not sure there is a way to make it better…” I look closer, not sure it was ever meant to be symmetrical in the first place.
Wolfe steps up to inspect it and starts arranging it. Since he’s the only one who can even reach the top, I just leave him to it.
After a few minutes, my mother chimes in, “Oh yes, that is slightly better. Do this one.”
The planner woman returns with a tray of mimosas.
I step back and take one. “At least this will distract her.”
“You have no idea.”
“I grew up with her. I have a pretty good idea.” I nod to the tray. “You should drink one of those. You’re going to need it before the day is out.”
She lifts an eyebrow but picks up one of the champagne glasses. “I was warned against taking this job.”
“Tell me you’re not planning the wedding.”
She looks like she’s going to cry. “I am.”
“Whoever warned you probably underestimated how bad she is.”
“Fuck my life.”
“My deepest condolences.” I give her a sympathetic smile. “After this event is a success, ask for double the money for the wedding.”
“We’ve already signed a contract.”
I give her a look. “Tell her you’ve reconsidered the scope of the project.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
“You’re going to earn even double. It’s not enough money, but at least you’ll be able to treat your PTSD.”
She huffs and laughs, but we both know I’m not kidding.
“Atticus, you are a balloon sculpting savant. If you weren’t so good at hockey, I would insist you start your own business.” My mother claps her hands. “Wilder, doesn’t it look better?” She gestures for me to come forward.
I do, and Wolfe slips his arm around my back. “It does look better,” I say, half-teasing to Wolfe, but I’m not lying.
“Who knew I had a hidden talent?” Wolfe worked some sort of miracle. Mom wanders off to deal with some other crisis, and I’m glad I’m not involved.
“Remind me to elope if I ever get married.
“If?” Wolfe asks.
I roll my eyes at him. “Don’t even start.”
By the time guests begin arriving, Mother seems at least satisfied with the decorations, while the planner seems like she might need a tranquilizer by the end of this, but everyone else is all smiles. We grab a few more mimosas and stay in the back because I don’t want to deal with my sister again.
Troves of extended family and friends come over to greet me and are startled by Wolfe at my side. A couple even ask if he was Steph’s ex, to which Wolfe just winks and makes some remark about keeping it in the family.
Suddenly, Wolfe is gone, and he’s too big to just vanish, so where the hell did he go? I turn and almost run into his elbow, then, in the process of avoiding it, I stumble backward, tripping over the uneven stones.
Wolfe grabs me like some tiny human and sets me on my feet before wrapping an arm around my middle, holding me to him like he’s put me in a metaphorical Baby Bjorn.
“Careful,” he whispers.
“What are you doing back there?” I try to laugh it off, not memorizing how every inch of him feels against me.
“It felt natural.” He rubs his nose against my temple while he speaks, sending sparks through my whole body.
“It does feel natural.” I put my hand over his and bask in it. Life would be so much easier if I could stay here the rest of the afternoon.
It’s so easy to be like this with him. I can’t let myself get used to it. We settle into seats and catch up with people we knew from high school.
“I can’t drink another one of these.” Wolfe slips down in his chair, leaning back while stretching his legs out.
“No one is making you drink them.”
Half a dozen mimosa glasses sit on the table in front of him. “If I don’t get a Dr. Pepper, I’m going to burn this place down.”
“I’d ask the planner, but I don’t want to be her last straw.” I turn to look over. “Let’s go find one.”
“Are we sneaking off?” Wolfe asks conspiratorially.
“Yes,” I step out of his arms reluctantly, but offer my hand.
A smile curls over his lips, and he grabs my hand in his massive one, half-dragging me toward the country club.
It’s the lightest I’ve felt in a long time around my family.
Or maybe just in general. How is this so much easier for him?
I guess it would be easier being a skin he doesn’t have to live in.
He’s pretending. He can leave any time he wants. I have to live here.
I exhale, putting on a smile when we take seats at the bar. “Tell me you have Dr. Pepper.”
“No, sorry, we don’t stock it,” the bartender says. “But I can get you something else.”
“No, I think we’re good.” I cringe and side glance at Wolfe. He’s a mixture of dejected and about to start a riot. “Want to go somewhere else?”
He shakes his head. “It will look bad if you leave early.”
I groan and press my face into the bar top. “Don’t remind me.”
He releases my hand but puts it on my back, stroking down it. I lean into him.
“Can we have a word?” Mark says from behind us.
“People really need to stop sneaking up on me.” I look at Wolfe for some idea of what he wants to do.
Wolfe smiles at me, then swivels around in his chair, tenting his fingers like some goddamn evil villain. I’d laugh, but I’m honestly just impressed. “Can I help you?”
“What is your fucking problem?” Mark throws out.
Wolfe cocks his head. “I didn’t realize I had a problem.”
“Are you playing dumb? Or did you just take too many pucks to the head?” Mark barely contains his anger.
“Can’t say I’ve ever taken a puck to the head, but since I’m a much better goalie than you, maybe you don’t know that.” Wolfe holds no anger in his tone, almost like he’s bored with the conversation already.
“You’re trying to hurt Steph, aren’t you?”
“I’m not mad about it, but no, I’m here to support my boyfriend.”
The word works its way into my heart like shrapnel, and I almost wish it would stop it from beating. It sounds so good on his lips, but it’s a painful reminder that none of this is real.
“You were horrible to her, and now you’re hiding under the excuse of dating her brother to try and ruin her wedding, all because she wouldn’t fuck you?”
“Wait, what?” Wolfe’s as confused as I am.
“We’re not letting you ruin it. You can keep up this bullshit, but if you let your relationship get out and try to embarrass my future wife for wanting to stay true to herself, I’m going to fucking destroy you.”
I don’t even know what to say.
Wolfe seems to be having the same reaction. “Go fuck yourself. You don’t scare me here or on the ice.”
“I fucking mean it. One fucking toe out of line,” Mark says through gritted teeth before storming off.
Wolfe and I stare at each other for a full thirty seconds before I speak.
“That was weird, right?”
“So weird. What fucking story is your sister telling people?” Wolfe turns back to the bar. “I changed my mind. I’m going to need something stronger than a mimosa.”
We get drinks and sit processing.
“One thing stands out to me,” Wolfe says at length.
“What?” I ask.
“Does Mark think your sister is like a virgin or something?”
“Huh?”
“The way he was talking about her.”
“Ohhh, right.” I sit with the question going over what he said. “I think you’re right. He was acting like she was some pure angel. She like a born-again virgin or something?”
“God, maybe.” Wolfe shudders.
“You know playing them is going to be hell,” I say, imagining him and Ktytor on a fucking rampage. They’re already the most physical team we play.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“Fuck off. You’re in the goal and don’t have to deal with it.”
“I promise to take care of all of your bruises, Angel baby,” Wolfe says. His tone is half-mocking…but maybe I should hold him to it.