Chapter 10
“ I CANNOT BELIEVE you talked me into doing this.”
Brantley glanced at his new friend and colleague, Jordan Devaney, and not for the first time wondered if the young professor was the same man he worked with Monday through Friday.
After much convincing, the two of them were standing in line at one of the hottest gay clubs to open downtown—Boyz.
He wasn’t much of a clubber himself, but judging by the white leather pants and the eggplant-colored tank top Jordan was wearing, this clearly wasn’t his first rodeo—an apt description, since he’d just moved to town from Wyoming a month ago.
“Oh, please. What else are you going to do on a Friday night? Stay at home and knit a new sweater?”
“You know, you shouldn’t poke fun at people when you yourself have some rather outlandish clothing choices.”
“Honey, I look gorgeous. Not everyone can get away with white leather pants. Don’t even pretend you aren’t jealous.”
He wasn’t wrong. If anyone could pull that ensemble off, it was Jordan.
“So, when did this place open?” Brantley asked as he leaned to the side and looked up the line of people flanking the building.
“Two weeks ago. I heard about it through a friend then looked it up online. They had a few videos posted, and, well, they were extremely enticing.”
I bet they were, Brantley thought as his eyes tracked over the leather, spandex, sequins, and glitter that men ranging in all ages had either poured themselves into, sprayed on their bodies, or had a friend buckle them up in.
All to impress a stranger they no doubt hoped to meet inside.
A similar wish he was hoping to fulfill, as he looked down at his jeans and his black shirt.
“Let’s just say the ‘dancers’ were enough to get me out here in this sauna dressed in my leather. So trust me, it’ll be worth it.”
He had no doubt. Plus, it’d been way too long since he’d hooked up, and he was starting to think it was affecting his brain, because all that seemed to be on his mind lately was his student. Daniel Finley.
“Your only mission tonight,” Jordan said, “is to forget you work as a stuffy professor during the week. Tonight, you shall be…hmm. What’s sexy and less nerdy?”
“Excuse me,” Brantley said. “I happen to think being well educated is sexy.”
“Of course you do,” Jordan said. “But you’re not here to pick you up, are you? Some hot stud who is ready to grind you to a brain-melting orgasm is going to think a… doctor is much hotter.”
Brantley rolled his eyes as they shuffled up the line. When they finally got to the door and the— Jesus, that guy is massive— bouncer in black jeans and a tight black shirt flashed a slow grin his way, Brantley waited for his body to react.
And…nothing.
Damn it.
He let them pass the red rope, and as Brantley stepped inside the door and the thumping beat of the music blasted his eardrums, he shouted over his shoulder to Jordan, “ He didn’t seem to mind this nerdy professor!”
“You didn’t say anything. That doesn’t count. Now, get moving, doctor .”
Brantley’s eyes slowly adjusted to the inviting darkness that beckoned him like a sinful invitation. Through the haze of a periodic smoke machine, strobe lights pulsated in time to the heavy throb pounding throughout the massive club.
He swept his gaze over the gyrating bodies spread out before him, and when Jordan finally came to a stop by his side, Brantley looked at him and grinned.
Yes, this was exactly what he needed. A night to lose himself in music, booze, and hot, hot guys. Or should he say boyz .
Jordan indicated that he was heading to the bar, and Brantley followed, his eyes tracking over the half-naked men bumping and grinding on the dance floor. He found that he couldn’t wait to get out there—but maybe after a couple of shots.
As they made their way up to the packed bar, he spotted two of the “dancers” Jordan had been referring to walking over to the tall tables off to the left of the dance floor.
They were clad in the tightest, whitest boy shorts he had ever seen.
Actually, they looked as if they’d been painted on, and he figured there must be a God, because that was all they were wearing.
Yeah. Okay, it’s been way too long since I’ve done this, he thought.
It was the exact place he could find a hot body to dance up on and maybe even make out with.
But that was all. That was where it would stop.
His time of participating in one-night stands were long behind him, and his job was way too important for any kind of scandal— no matter how hot it might be —to come back and bite him in the ass. Both literally and figuratively.
He tore his eyes off the dance floor, and as he rounded back to search for Jordan, his eyes landed on one of the dancers bending over the bar, talking to the tatted-up bartender.
The guy was chuckling at something the dancer had just said, and Brantley found himself admiring all the skin that he could see.
Not only did the dancer have long, leanly muscled legs, which were a turn-on all on their own, but his white shorts were outlining one hell of an ass.
What really was doing it for Brantley, though—what really had his attention—was the broad back, the naked stretch of skin displayed above those tiny shorts, and the blond ponytail tied at the nape of his neck.
It seemed he’d developed quite the fixation. Good thing I live in surfer city.
He’d just taken a step closer, wanting to see the man’s face, when the dancer straightened up and turned around. That was when his feet came to an abrupt fucking stop, because the man standing in front of him was none other than Daniel goddamn Finley.
It shouldn’t have been as shocking as it was to see him, but shocking was the only word that was coming to mind.
Along with holy mother of God. The guy was practically naked, and as that little factoid hit Brantley’s brain along with the reaction his dick was having to the cocky expression crossing his student’s face, Brantley could do nothing.
His feet, it seemed, had forgotten how to move.
Daniel, apparently, wasn’t having the same problem. He sauntered forward, stopped when they were shoulder to shoulder, and greeted him.
“Evening, Professor Hayes. Looking good.”
Keep your eyes on his face, Brantley ordered himself as he angled his head up and saw Daniel’s lips twitching.
“Hello, Daniel.”
Daniel bent down, and Brantley instructed himself not to flinch. Don’t give him the upper hand. Don’t move, Hayes. But when Daniel put his mouth by his ear, Brantley had a hard time not reaching for him.
“It’s Finn,” Daniel breathed.
Brantley swallowed and turned to look him in the eye.
“And I’m over on the far left podium. You know, if you want to watch.”
Brantley was sure he was about to tell him, “I was just leaving,” but nothing came out.
For fuck’s sake, he was an adult and this kid— okay, not a kid— was, yeah , he was walking away from him and through the crowd of horny men who were not only moving out of his way, but ogling, dancing, and trying to catch his attention.
Shit. Who’d Brantley think he was kidding? He couldn’t even tear his eyes off Daniel’s retreating back and ass. How was he not going to watch him shake it up on a stage?
“Ahh, I see you’ve spotted something you want to ? —”
“He’s a student of mine,” Brantley said, cutting Jordan off before he could get started.
Jordan handed him two bright blue shots, and if ever there was a time to knock back some liquid courage, it was now. He downed the first, and as the fiery alcohol chased a path down his throat, he looked to his friend.
“How long?” Jordan shouted over the music.
Brantley shook his head. Jordan rolled his eyes and pointed to the second drink. He drained it too, and then they handed their empty glasses off to one of the waiters who was walking by.
“Now, again. How long have you been fantasizing about your student?”
Brantley zoomed in on the podium on the far left side of the dance floor just as Daniel climbed up onto it. “Nothing’s happened.”
“But you want it to…”
He looked to his friend and shook his head again. As one of Jordan’s eyebrows flew up close to his hairline, he asked, “Do I look stupid to you?”
Deciding no answer was his best option, Brantley returned his attention to…
Fuck me. Daniel was gyrating on the stage with some beefed-up muscle guy.
Once he’d gotten his head past that observation, the way Daniel’s hips were moving had any blood in Brantley’s brain moving directly south to his cock.
He needed to get the fuck out of there. Now.
“I’ve got to go.”
He was starting to walk away from his friend when a hand clamped down on his arm and spun him around.
“Hey.” Jordan grinned at him. “We came here to dance with some random stranger and unwind…so let’s do that. Unless the one you want to dance with is already taken,” he said, letting his eyes move back to the podium.
As the alcohol began to relax his strung-out nerves, Brantley made a deal with himself.
He could do this. He was an adult, this club was packed, and there was no reason why he couldn’t go out on the dance floor, find a hot, willing body, and spend the night dancing with him.
It wasn’t like his sexuality was a secret, and Daniel had known before that night that he was gay… so why was he running away?
Because the guy gives you a fucking hard-on and it’s inappropriate, his conscience reminded him.
As accurate as that was, he was going to shove it aside for the night. And then a dark-haired man around his height stopped directly in front of him and angled his head toward the dance floor. Yeah, he was going to go and unwind with a stranger— this stranger.
“SO, WHERE SHOULD I put my bag?”
Brantley shook himself out of his daydream, and when his eyes found Daniel’s, he gestured toward his room.