Dom #3
“He’s being slightly dramatic,” Arlo said, making me cringe when I heard the telltale sound of a zipper being pulled up.
“At least you didn’t accuse me of being jealous,” I grumbled as I tossed the Afghan onto the couch, not bothering to fold it because it was obvious I needed to get out of there as soon as possible. “I’m going to bed.”
“We’ll behave,” Arlo promised softly, but I could hear that rare, devious smile in his voice as he said it.
“Don’t, please don’t. If anyone needs to get laid, it’s you,” I explained in a rush as I stood up and headed for the hallway as fast as my legs could take me in the dark.
“I’m putting my headphones on. The only way you’re going to scar me further is if you shake the whole house or bust down the door to do.
..whatever you’re planning on doing, in front of me. ”
I was gone before anything else could be said because... yeah, no, I was happy for him, I really was, but I did not need to witness anything else tonight.
The gender of his date was one reason I wouldn’t tell anyone.
Neither Arlo nor I were vocal about our personal lives with the rest of the family, but we’d shared enough to know things the others didn’t, like the fact that both Arlo and I had been with guys in the past. Our family wouldn’t care one bit if he were with a guy; our family was.
..pretty gay, actually, but there would be a lot of questions Arlo probably wouldn’t want to answer.
Which was why I kept my mouth shut about my business.
See, my family would be perfectly okay if I told them I had been with a handful of guys over the years.
The problem was that they would have a shit ton of questions I either wouldn’t or couldn’t answer.
I could picture it starting with the most obvious question. Since when did I like guys?
The answer was as complicated as it was vague because.
..I didn’t. Kind of did, but mostly not.
Like...did I enjoy sex with those guys? Yes.
There was something different and fun about being with a guy as opposed to all the women I’d been with.
So, I did enjoy the sex, but I couldn’t say I was attracted to guys or craved sex with other men like I did with women.
I couldn’t remember ever seeing a guy and just snapping my fingers and going ‘yes, I’ll fuck that one. ’
With one exception. Levi had been the first guy I’d done anything with, and I did all the basic stuff with him. At least I guess it was basic, people were more willing to explore, so for all I knew, anal sex was so goddamn basic even vanilla would call it vanilla.
Ugh, one dream and a bit of exposure to two dudes getting ready to get down and dirty, and I was already drifting in the past. Sure, the music blasting in my ears kept me from being further traumatized by Arlo’s renewed love life, but it sure as shit wasn’t keeping me from getting lost in my own thoughts.
I didn’t know why my brain decided I needed to dream about Levi when it had been years since I’d last dreamed about him, let alone laid eyes on him.
With a grunt, I got off the bed and decided I wasn’t going to stay for the night.
I could already feel the restlessness from the dream, and the.
..sight I’d been forced to witness was going to keep me locked in my head for a while.
At times like this, it was better to accept your fate instead of tossing and turning in bed.
I had a feeling Arlo and Ward were not sleeping, but it wasn’t necessary to take the headphones off to test my theory.
I walked past his closed bedroom door and out the front door, locking it behind me.
There was only one place I could go that I knew I would relax enough not to obsess about things that happened years ago.
Or...hadn’t happened.
The hotel lobby was quiet, save for a commotion from the bar, which, on a Friday night, made sense.
I followed the noise to see who was working, and when I saw Roger, I waved and headed to an employee-only door.
The goal was to root through the fridge in the kitchen to find something that was supposed to be for the next morning, but that I could get my hands on.
There was always a selection of fresh fruit and yogurt laid out, which was good for a snack, but there were also bagels and, occasionally, leftover bacon from the day before, which I could whip into a sandwich with an egg and some hot sauce.
It was my lucky night: there was good bacon, and some brown sugar and honey I could slap on top and slide into the oven while I picked some cheese.
The kitchen was well insulated, so even though I was right next door to the bar, all I could hear was the hum of the machinery and the fan over the grill.
The kitchen was a quiet place when you wanted a moment to yourself in the middle of the night.
I paused when I heard a voice from the back of the kitchen. “Quit. I’m working the night audit.”
Ah, Moira. But who was she talking to?
And then she gave a very un-Moira-like giggle, and my brow rose sharply.
It had to be Kayden, Jace’s best friend, who had come into the family about the same time Jace did.
Admittedly, Kayden had settled into the family with Moira far easier than Jace had with Mason.
Then again, those two had always been...
uh...fiery with each other. Only Mason would run into the guy he had had a mutual hatred with in high school and decide that yes, that was the man he was going to spend the rest of his life with.
“Stop,” she drew out with another of those giggles. “Maybe, okay? Yes, if you’re good. But you never are. Well...yes, if you can’t be good, I’m sure I can find another way to deal with you.”
Oh boy, yeah, no, we were not doing this.
“You’re not alone!” I called out before I heard something I didn’t want to hear...again.
“Jesus!” Moira snapped, and I saw her glare at me. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Making a sandwich,” I said, gesturing toward everything in front of me. “What? Would you prefer I listen to whatever you were going to say to Kayden? You know if he decides to be a bad boy.”
“Oh, God,” she groaned. “I have to go, Dom is here and already heard more than I wanted him to...yes, yes, he did. Mhmm, love you too.”
“What? Like I wanted to hear it?” I scoffed as I dropped the bacon onto the flat top. “No, I didn’t want to hear it, that’s why I let you know I was here. I’ve heard enough to last me a lifetime already today, I don’t want to add more, thanks.”
“What did you hear that bothered you so much?” Moira scoffed as she walked toward me. “Some girl tell you that you weren’t a god at sex like you thought?”
“Okay, first off, I have never said I was a god of sex. I make sure they get off even if I get mine.”
“Plenty of women out there would call that godly.”
“It’s bare minimum.”
“Suddenly, I’m feeling a lot better for all the women your playboy ass has lured into bed,” she said with a chuckle. “At least they didn’t leave disappointed.”
I snorted. “I’m not...anyway.”
“So,” she said, sitting on the part of the counter I wasn’t using. “Aren’t you supposed to be at Arlo’s for the night?”
“What? Did you make up a rule where, unless you live here full-time, you can’t show up whenever you want?”
“No,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But you don’t usually go hunting for a midnight snack unless something is bothering you...and why couldn’t you do it at Arlo’s?”
I grimaced. “He’s...getting laid.”
She made a soft noise. “Arlo is...not you?”
“I’m not sure how I could be any clearer.”
“Huh, good for him, I guess. Must be a hell of a lay if you were driven out of the house.”
“I wasn’t driven out,” I said with a shake of my head as I took the bacon off and slid it onto a drip tray. “I had headphones. But you know, he should be able to have a date over without being afraid his brother might overhear or see something...again.”
“Again?”
“I didn’t see anything horrifying, but I heard something I definitely could have done without.”
“Are you being dramatic or justified right now?”
“His date was groping him and commented on his big stick.”
“Oh God.”
“See?”
“Justified, definitely justified,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Do Arlo a favor and make sure neither Milo nor Mason learn about that. Mason will start calling him Roosevelt or something.”
“Who?”
“Former, very dead president who coined that phrase, if I remember right.”
“Good to know,” I said as I started toasting the bagel. “But yeah, that’s why I’m here instead of rooting around his kitchen like an unwanted raccoon.”
“Okay, now you’re being dramatic,” she said with a snort. “You’re not nearly chubby or cute enough to be a raccoon.”
“I’ll try to figure out if I’m insulted by that or not,” I said, pulling the bagel halves out of the toaster, grabbing a couple of mayo packets, and cracking a couple of eggs onto the flat top.
“Is this about your last match?” she asked, looking at me sharply, and I gave her a dirty look.
“Stop,” I warned her as the eggs bubbled and popped, adding their aroma to the faint smell of slightly burned bagel and the strong scent of bacon fat.
“What?”
“Stop trying to analyze me. It’s not because of my last match.”
“Hmm.”
“Quit.”
Now that she brought it up, I had gotten my ass kicked from one end of the mat to the other last week.
This year had been rough, and honestly, last year hadn’t been all that better.
Darren, my coach, was at a loss about what to do about my problem, mainly because neither of us could figure out what was wrong.
Training sessions always seemed to go just like they had; I wasn’t slowing down or making mistakes that couldn’t be easily adjusted, and I was focused.
By all measures, I should be doing just fine; I should be doing great in the ring.