Chapter Fourteen #2
“That’s definitely a lesson we don’t need to be taught.
” Wyatt sounded amused and vaguely interested and Ryan leaned back, tucking himself against Wyatt’s side.
It wasn’t a shock when Wyatt’s arm curled around him.
Protectively, Ryan told himself. Wyatt was jealous.
Normally, Ryan hated dealing with jealous guys, but he’d take jealousy over boredom, especially if it was Wyatt.
“I’ll stay close,” the waiter said. “Just in case you need anything. Or need a refresher course.”
“We’ll take a few beers, too,” Ryan said, because he remembered Eric’s warning, and he might as well try to keep to one of his admonitions.
To Ryan’s surprise though, Wyatt bypassed the beers, and went to the bottles of liquor, pouring a few fingers of vodka into a glass, splashing in a little juice and nothing else.
“I thought he was flirting with you, at first,” Wyatt said, mouth drifting towards Ryan’s ear so he could hear him over the music, which was increasing in volume by the minute, “but actually I think he was flirting with both of us.”
Wyatt again proved how observant he was.
“I think so too,” Ryan said, sneaking in a little ear nibble as he turned to talk in Wyatt’s ear.
Wyatt shrugged. “He’s cute but the whole act is too much for me.”
Wyatt was always so damn straight forward, it wasn’t a surprise that the act was too theatrical for him. Ryan didn’t even like it all that much, but he intended to use it.
“I don’t know, cute goes a long way,” Ryan said, smiling up at him. “Let’s go dance.”
Wyatt threw the rest of his vodka back, and Ryan set his beer down.
Wyatt caught up Ryan’s hand and they walked down the set of stairs to where the rest of the club was partying.
Ryan intended to keep to the edges—after all, they needed to be seen, and not just because they were the VIP guests for the evening—but Wyatt took them deeper into the crowd.
Ryan should have protested but he just followed.
“You didn’t dance last time you were here,” Wyatt observed, lips right against his as his hips ground into Ryan’s.
“You weren’t dancing,” Ryan retorted, hands gripping his shoulders firmly, and Wyatt just smirked back.
Wyatt had a natural rhythm that Ryan had already observed from their surfing sessions, and he was a decent dancer, though frankly most of what they were doing was pseudo-dry humping anyway.
The crowd and the feeling of Wyatt’s hips grinding into his, hands a possessive brand on his back, creeping down towards his ass, raised his temperature quick, and after only a few songs, he felt damp all over.
There was sweat slicked at Wyatt’s temple, and Ryan wanted to lick it up.
As one song changed to another, Ryan tugged Wyatt towards their VIP area, and he followed easily.
It was a little easier to talk when they were away from the pounding bass emanating from the speakers.
Wyatt leaned down. “I think we should tell the angel that you’ve been very bad indeed.
” Ryan could tell from their close proximity that Wyatt was hard in his jeans.
He wanted to tell him, screw this, and let’s go home and screw me, but the voice in the back of his head whispered that he couldn’t let this go.
He couldn’t let Wyatt become complacent and bored and end up in someone like the angel’s bed, only without Ryan.
Wyatt threw back another shot of vodka, this time with no juice, and Ryan opened the bottle of tequila with a quick wrench of his fingers. He’d just taken a shot and was sucking on a slice of lime when the angel waiter approached again.
“Need anything?” he asked. “Maybe some help with your shots?”
Wyatt’s eyes were blank as Ryan looked at the waiter.
“Sure, sounds like fun,” Ryan said carelessly. He couldn’t look at Wyatt as the guy reclined on the table, like a tempting buffet, and poured a shot of vodka right into his abs.
There was no backing out now, he could hear the whoops from the crowd, which meant they’d been spotted, and he couldn’t push him away.
Besides, he told himself as he leaned down, slurping the tequila off the guy’s skin, it was the least boring thing he’d done in ages.
The slice of lime was waiting for him in the angel’s mouth and he took it with his own, lingering for a long second.
Ryan knew it was all part of the act and the fantasy the club provided, but there was undeniable interest flashing in his light-blue eyes.
He wanted Ryan, and he’d probably even take Wyatt too, if that’s what it took.
“Can I get you anything else?” the angel asked huskily, partially sitting up. The tequila left his bare chest shiny and Ryan could see exactly where his tongue had been in the flashing lights.
And that was the real question. How far was Ryan willing to take this? How far was Wyatt willing to take this?
Anne-Marie chose this particular moment to return. Ryan was pretty sure it wasn’t even midnight on the nose, but certainly she’d been observing the activities with everyone else, and had decided the best time to drag them to the main stage was when the entire club was already watching.
“Time to go,” she said.
Ryan decided that she must have seen a lot of shit in her tenure because she barely batted an eyelash at what they’d been up to.
Before they went, Ryan turned back to the waiter. “Your name,” he asked. “And a dance when we get back.”
He could feel Wyatt tense next to him. “With both of us,” Ryan clarified, making sure that his intentions were clear.
“Alex,” he said, as he began to pile empty glasses on the tray. “And I’ll be around when you’re done.”
That was exactly what Wyatt was afraid of—that Alex would be there when they got back to the VIP area, and Wyatt would have to decide where he stood on the subject that Ryan had spent the whole evening hinting at.
It could have been worse, Wyatt thought as he climbed the stairs, trying to look calm and not nervous because he was about to get in front of about a thousand people, not because Ryan kept trying to set them up a threesome.
Ryan could have dragged Alex up there to the stage with them and forced the decision in front of the entire club.
They got to the stage, and the DJ announced them. Wyatt kept a firm grip around Ryan’s hips, feeling zero compunction about pulling him a little rough towards him. Ryan leaned over and played it up, kissing him noisily on the cheek and then moving to his lips.
If this was happening, it was happening on his terms. Wyatt yanked Ryan even closer and made it even showier, playing to the crowd by dipping him low, and pouring all his frustration into the kiss.
The noisy crowd faded away, giving way to a low roaring in his ears.
He opened his eyes as the kiss finally ended, and Ryan was staring at him, an inscrutable expression on his face.
The DJ said more nonsense that Wyatt didn’t understand even though they were practically on top of one of the speakers, and then finally Anne-Marie led them down the stairs and off the stage.
But it wasn’t a solution, because they were still under the crowd’s microscope and Alex was waiting, an impatient look of excitement plain on his features, for them to collect him and give him the dance he’d been promised.
Maybe under different circumstances, Wyatt might have enjoyed dancing with him.
Would have definitely entertained the threesome idea, but right now, it didn’t feel right.
Not now. Not under these tenuous circumstances.
Not when Wyatt felt five seconds away from grabbing Ryan back and keeping him all to himself.
The uncertainty was breeding jealousy and envy in him, and Wyatt didn’t like it, but he didn’t know how to exorcise it either.
Wyatt grabbed Ryan’s hand just before they were about to head up to the VIP area. “Wait,” he said loud enough that he could be heard even over the pounding bass of the music. “Wait. We need to talk.”
Ryan turned back to him, pulled his hand back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you okay with this?”
The question was a challenge and it was stark black and white, with none of the shades of gray Wyatt knew were important. At least to him.
“We need to talk,” he repeated. Even though there was no possible way to talk in here. Not with the music and the strobe lights, and Alex practically hovering over Ryan’s shoulder.
He wasn’t stupid enough to think they’d get away with it again, but Wyatt decided he was going to try anyway.
He pulled Ryan’s hand back, and led him the same way he’d gone the first night they met, winding through the crowd and right out the front door, leading him past the bouncers and the eager partiers waiting to get in, down the street, and into the mouth of the alley they’d first spoken in a month ago.
Every second, Wyatt expected Ryan to pull away, to go back to the club, to go back to Alex. And that, Wyatt realized as quiet finally surrounded them, was a microcosm of the whole problem.
He didn’t trust Ryan not to break his heart. He didn’t trust Ryan to pull the parachute if things got hairy.
“What are we doing here?” Wyatt asked, the question spilling out before he could stop it. If Ryan’s earlier question had been a challenge, this was a demand.
“Drinking, partying? Eventually getting photographed and introducing all the housewives in the grocery store checkout line to our relationship?”
“I don’t want a cute answer,” Wyatt said. “I want the truth.”
“Keeping it fun. Keeping it exciting.” Ryan’s voice sounded brittle. Wyatt’s first instinct was to claim bullshit on that too, but he was beginning to think Ryan was actually telling the truth.
“Why can’t we have a drink and dance some and make out in the car on the way home, and have undeniably spectacular sex when we do? Isn’t that exciting enough for you?”
Ryan hugged himself and Wyatt wasn’t sure it was because of the temperature, which seemed mild enough, even for November.