6. Imry
6
IMRY
On my way to the fourth floor, I stop in the area we call a loggia. That’s not technically the right term, but someone mislabeled it one day, and that’s what we’ve called it ever since. Around the stairs, which are beautiful and ornate even though they’re not the main stairway, are wide open spaces. Each floor is a little different.
The second floor, which is for all the employees who choose to live on the Estate, is a quiet gathering place filled with reading nooks and hangout areas.
The third floor is my favorite. Maybe because it’s a small gallery of my art. I pause there on my way to the fourth floor. I often swap out paintings throughout the properties on the Estate. Sometimes, I fill a house with a vibe as opposed to a series of paintings.
This floor doesn’t really have a theme. It’s definitely more like a showcase of a single artist. There are different kinds of paintings, from abstract portraits to very detailed, lifelike ‘ candid ’ family paintings.
My poor siblings have been my muses my entire life. They’ve never once complained or protested, which I suppose I interpreted as permission.
I wander around, looking into all the faces of my siblings, uncles, my father, and some cousins. Grandparents. There’s even a new one of baby Emerson I painted shortly after he was born. Not the first painting I did of him. That went to Uncle Noaz. But this is the second.
I think it’s time to update some of the paintings. While I’d love to fill this space with Haze, I think that’s off the table. That seems a little awkward.
Laughter upstairs has me glancing toward the ceiling. I know there’s a very good chance that I’ll run into Haze and maybe that’s why I’m forcing myself to hang out with them. There’s a chance I need to force a confrontation or it’s not going to happen. It’s been over a week now and this sour taste in my mouth won’t go away.
Especially since he stopped texting me. It’s been more than thirty hours since his last text and fuck if it doesn’t sting.
Taking a breath, I head for the stairs again and up to the fourth floor. This might be one of my favorite spaces in the entire house. It has floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, reading nooks, and gathering places. It’s out of a magazine.
This is where I find several of the people I thought I would, though not Haze. He doesn’t live in the big house, so I’m not entirely surprised, though I am secretly disappointed.
“Hey, Im,” Oakley greets me with a wide grin. “Where’ve you been?”
I shrug. “Nowhere exciting. Home. Working.” Painting. Obsessing. Trying to work up the courage to text Haze back.
Oakley and Loren are sitting in a big, puffy chair. Neither actually live in the big house either, but I think they’re probably here a lot since Jessica, Brek, and Levis live here with my father and my older brother Voss.
Levis is reclined in one of the chairs and Jessica and Myro are sitting on one of the couches. I fall into another chair facing the group. “What’s going on?” I ask.
“Nothing at all,” Jessica says. “I think Loren is trying to turn Oakley a permanent shade of red.”
Oakley rolls his eyes. “He knows what’s appropriate in front of other people, yet insists on saying private things just to make me blush!” Oakley complains.
Loren doesn’t look the least bit apologetic. He shrugs. “I like how hot your skin gets. It’s sexy.”
Oakley huffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re in time out. No talking.”
Loren shrugs, sits back, and drops his hand between Oakley’s legs to haul him back. This, of course, makes Oakley blush and the rest of us chuckle. Oakley slaps his hand away. “I swear, you’re impossible,” he mutters before giving me a harassed look.
“So, this is what everyone’s doing on a Friday night, huh? Have we all gotten that old?” I ask.
“Yes,” Oakley, Jessica, and Myro say together. I laugh.
“There are worse things, I guess.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask where Haze is, but then it’ll inevitably be followed up with ‘ why? ’ and I’m not answering that question.
However, I don’t have to ask. I’ve only joined them for a few minutes when Haze comes upstairs. His eyes meet mine immediately, and I don’t miss his frown. I’m both relieved and disappointed when he doesn’t say anything to me.
“Hey, hot stuff,” Jessica says. “Where you headed?”
“Lev and I are going to the club,” Haze says.
Immediately, every muscle in my body stiffens as I stare at him. The fuck?
Oakley turns a big smile on Levis. “Are you? You know what kinds of clubs Haze goes to, right?”
Levis’ confident smile never wavers. “Even gay men deserve a top-notch wingman,” Levis says. “There will be plenty to entertain me while Haze finds his own entertainment.”
Was this scripted? How could it be when they didn’t know I’d be up here? Haze doesn’t look at me, but I fucking feel like this is directed at me alone. As if he’s punishing me for being a jackass, which I totally deserve. But what the actual fuck? A week? That’s all the mourning I get?
Wait. That’s not fair at all. We weren’t together. We weren’t even casually seeing each other. One hookup doesn’t constitute him owing me anything, especially since I’ve fucking outright ignored him for the past nine days.
I deserve this.
“Cool,” Oakley says. “Have fun.”
“Use protection,” Jessica says.
Haze waves them off. He doesn’t meet my eyes as he heads back for the stairs, though I think my stare must leave burn marks on his skin. Levis is at his side as they disappear.
Everything surrounding me has an echo as if each object’s individual vibration shoves against me. My heartbeat thuds in my head, making my jaw ache.
I sit there for as long as I can before getting to my feet.
“What’s up?” Myro asks, and I look at the faces around the room. All watching me. Only Loren seems to have an idea of what’s up. His small, amused smile is pointed directly at me as he rests his chin on Oakley’s shoulder.
Taking a breath to hopefully clear the crazy out of my eyes, I shake my head. “Just realized I haven’t eaten today,” I lie. “Makes sense why my stomach’s growling. I’ll see you later.”
No one responds. I doubt a single one of them believes me. As soon as I’m out of sight, I race down the stairs and shove out the door, running straight into Avory and Ellory. It’s a short confrontation but I manage to pull away from them before too long. I’m in my car within a minute and practically taking the corner on two wheels as I make my way to the main driveway.
I don’t know where they’re going, but I know where the closest gay club is, so that’s where I go. I must break several driving laws, but since I make it in less than twenty minutes, it confirms I definitely broke some laws.
Instead of wasting my time inside when they might not be here, I drive around the parking lot looking for their cars. I don’t know which of them drove though I have a feeling it was Levis. Sure enough, there’s his car. I park close to it and walk beside it on my way inside so I can peek into it. Yeah, they’re already inside.
There’s a short line and I’m practically crawling out of my skin with irritation by the time I’m let inside. The music is loud. There are bodies everywhere. I stop at the side to look at the bar and spot Levis right away. He’s talking to someone, his hand resting over the top of his glass as he does.
Haze isn’t there. My insides burn as I wander around looking for him. My fists clench. I’m already angry and I know I have no right to be. I shouldn’t be here at all, but fuck if I’m going to let someone touch him when it should be me. If I were acting my fucking age, it would be. But I’m so busy worrying that everyone is going to hurt me, I’m in my own goddamn way!
It takes me far too long to find him. I constantly check to make sure Levis is still at the bar, so I know they haven’t left while I’m looking. In that time, only about a million scenarios as to why I haven’t spotted him run through my mind, each one making me more and more murderous. If I didn’t know what the feel of blood on my hands was like, if I didn’t know the satisfaction of watching someone’s life drain from their eyes at my hands, I wouldn’t think much about this rage. Just another angry, jealous guy wanting someone who isn’t his and has no right to be possessive over.
But I know what it feels like to want to kill someone. I know what it feels like to have acted on it. It’s frighteningly exactly what I’m feeling right now when I see a man all over Haze, groping him, tugging his shirt up to feel his bare skin.
The music stops being music. The only rhythm I hear is a thunderous BUM-BUM-BUM in my head as I shove my way through the crowd. My hand closes around the man’s neck and I violently shove him away. He’s disoriented and then angry. Right until he looks into my face and fear screams through his eyes.
“You touch him again and I’m going to kill you,” I yell.
He backs away, nearly tripping over the couple behind him before turning and running off. I spin to look at Haze. I’m not sure what I’m expecting. He needs an explanation right now, doesn’t he? What do I say?
Haze watches me. Waiting. I realize the puck is totally in my court—and yes, I mixed sports, but whatever. My heart races. I don’t know what to do.
So I do something equally stupid as following him here and threatening a man with murder. I’m on him just as suddenly as when he’d shown up at my house. It doesn’t cross my mind until much, much later that he might push me away. Thankfully, he doesn’t.
Our mouths collide again, just as roughly and harshly as they did the first time. It’s a battle of control where he bites my lip, so I bite his tongue. We rub against each other, hands down pants and up shirts, being entirely inappropriate for public consumption.
He’s hard. I hook my leg around his waist so I can get better access to fuck against his cock. I throb. I need him.
“Come home,” I say, biting the shell of his ear hard. He groans. “I need to be inside you.”
His fingers dig into me. I think he might tell me no now. He has every right to reject me. Now he has the puck. It’s his… play?
I’m fucking relieved when he nods. “My place,” he says. “So fucking help me, Imry; if you ghost me again, I’m going to run you over. Am I clear?”
I nod.
“Go.”
Walking away from him is difficult, but I try. Right until I turn around and don’t see him behind me. Nope. Can’t do it. I head toward the bar and watch as he approaches Levis. They exchange words and Levis gets up. I follow them at a distance, leaving when they do. I follow them home but slow down when they turn down the driveway.
I can only go so slowly, though. Instead of hanging out on the road, I turn my headlights off and follow at a respectable distance. Is he going to require conversation? I need to have a plan if he does. I need to decide exactly what I’m going to tell him.
An apology, obviously. But he’s going to need the ‘ why? ’ too, isn’t he? Can I just get away with telling him I’ve… had some bad experiences with men in the past? No, that makes it sound concerning. How about I’m too trusting? No, no, no. Then he might think I don’t trust him.
It’s me I don’t trust.
Instead of driving directly to his cottage, I take a right as if I’m going to my house. I need to give Levis time to drop him off at home and then get back to the big house so as much as I hate losing track of them, I take a right off the main driveway and follow the private road until I can take my first left.
This road takes me up and around the lake. Instead of continuing on the most direct route, I go straight instead of veering off as if I’m heading to Loren’s. At that crossroads, I finally turn south and head for the cottages.
In the distance, heading away from the cottages, I see what I presume is Levis’ car heading for the big house. Haze’s lights are on when I pull into his driveway and get out.
He has the door open as I approach. Once again, I’m greeted with an image I know will stay with me for a very long time. He’s… gorgeous. Breathtaking. He makes my heart race.
And my dick hard.
Haze doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move at all. He waits for me to come to him. I don’t even hesitate as I stalk my way toward this god of a man. Though I have zero right to be, I’m still fucking pissed he went to the club and let someone else grope him. That he was touching someone else.
My body meets his and our mouths practically slam together. His hand immediately drops to my ass, fingers digging in. I’m going to have bruises. His grip pulls my feet almost entirely from the ground with his one hand as he pulls me inside and shuts the door.
I love his strength. I love how he can manhandle me. Fuck, I want this man so, so fucking bad.
He doesn’t speak as he hauls me down the hall. We drop onto the bed, his big body crushing mine beneath him. His fingers dig into my skin roughly, leaving marks. Maybe intentionally?
I bite his lip hard, drawing blood, making him groan as his hips grind into mine. Even through the layers, the promise of his sexy dick is far too enticing.
I need to touch him. I need to be in his ass. I need to remind him that no one is going to fuck him the way I do. I need him to always remember that I’m going to give it to him best, so he won’t be tempted to search for it at a club.
“Imry,” he grunts, picking up his head.
Dread fills me. No. I don’t want to talk right now.