Page 21 of Best Served Cold

“I was going to go out for a bit. It’s been a long weekend.”

“It has.” She yawned and dragged herself to her feet. “I won’t be long. I’m bushed.”

Leaning over, she pressed a kiss to Felix’s forehead. He snuffled happily.

Once Becca was in the bathroom and the water was running, I carefully made my way into her room and laid Felix in his basinet. Once I was sure he was settled, I crept over to the crib to check on Aria.

She was fast asleep, her dark curls wild around her head, her arms and legs out in a starfish pose, as she snored softly.

Carefully, I tugged the leg of her pajamas down where it had ridden up so she wouldn’t get cold, then crept out of the room.

Knowing Becca would be a while, I ducked into my room to change out of my sweats. I got dressed, tamed my hair with some gel, then went to the living room and waited. Once I heard the bathroom fan go off and a door open, I left the apartment and made my way to the back parking lot.

The familiar rumble of my truck starting up helped calm the lingering anxiety that had been simmering in the back of my mind since I’d woken up. It was one of those days where everything seemed to trigger an ‘oh shit’ response, even when it clearly wasn’t a big deal. It would pass, it always did, but I hated feeling so unbalanced and out of control.

After checking to make sure it was safe, I pulled out of the lot and headed west. Where was I going? I had no fucking clue.

Driving around was one of the few times when I felt completely in control of myself, and my life. For years it had been my only refuge, the only time I could escape.

I still had a ton of the city to discover, but I was in one of those phases where the thought of the unknown wasn’t exciting, it was anxiety-inducing, so I’d stuck to main roads during my explorations, rather than check out the surrounding highways or nearby towns.

How the fuck was I supposed to go to work in the morning and face Zane? I didn’t give a shit what the other guys thought of me or that I’d lost the stupid dare, but there was no way in hell Zane had missed my erection.

I still wasn’t even sure why I’d gotten hard. My tongue piercing was sensitive and kissing with the stud in felt good, but I didn’t pop wood every time I locked lips with someone.

Zane was nothing like the girls I usually found myself with. I didn’t really have a type, but at my size, most women seemed tiny and delicate in comparison. The few I’d been with liked it when I used my strength, but I had to be insanely careful to hold back so I didn’t hurt them.

Zane wasn’t quite as big or as strong as me, but he was a close enough match that my brain had short-circuited at his show of dominance. I’d never met a girl who was that kind of aggressive and took what they wanted. I was used to cute pouts and sassy little slaps. Nothing like how Zane had taken things from ten to ten thousand with one swipe of his damn tongue.

I wasn’t even attracted to him, not in that sense. He was a good-looking guy, I’d even say he was hot. I wasn’t sure if it was the twin thing, or a holy shit those guys are gorgeous thing, but he and River were constantly getting checked out wherever they went.

So what if he had the hair and face of a model? Or the body of an action hero. It was seriously ridiculous how built he and River were, but they weren’t sculpted like Gray. They obviously lifted and were active outside of work, but I saw guys like that all the time at the clubs or bars, even at the damn coffee shop. I never thought twice about them.

I’d always had a weird way of looking at people, and my attraction to women wasn’t contingent on their physical looks. For me, a ten could easily become a two if she had a shitty personality, and I’d never met a girl who’d triggered even the slightest desire for more than just friendship or sex.

Last week I’d overheard Gray and River discussing something called being ‘aromantic’, and after doing some research, which basically just meant typing the word into Google and reading the first few hits, that sounded like it could be me.

I’d never had the desire to settle down or be in a relationship, and while I found tons of women attractive and enjoyed hooking up with them, I didn’t feel romantic attraction to anyone. Ever.

I’d chalked it up to just never meeting likeminded people in the tiny-ass town I’d grown up in, but I’d been out in the real world for almost two months now, and not a single woman had sparked more than fleeting physical attraction.

I hadn’t even hooked up since moving here because I didn’t want to get the rep as an asshole who used women for sex. I’d rather just take care of things myself than deal with any drama.

Zane was so unlike anyone I’d ever met, and that intrigued me. I’d always been interested in human behavior and figuring out why people act the way they do, and it hadn’t taken long to see Zane’s patterns.

His closed-off, deliberately neutral way of speaking and acting wasn’t a result of him not feeling anything—it was because he felt everything. He purposely hid his feelings and reactions, most likely to protect himself, but from what, I had no clue.

The worst part about what had happened wasn’t just that he’d witnessed my reaction, it was that he hadn’t reacted at all. He kissed me exactly the way a straight guy would.

No arousal, no heat, just body parts doing things with zero physical response.

Hell, he’d barely even kissed me. I’d been the one to escalate things. Thinking I could get a rise out of him by upping the ante.

The only thing that had risen was my dick.

And why’d he give me an out afterward? He’d felt my boner, I knew he had, but then pretended like he hurt me because he wasn’t used to my tongue stud?

He definitely hadn’t hurt me and he knew it. Zane was stubborn and annoying and had a giant stick up his ass, but he wasn’t stupid. He was calculating and observant, always taking in his surroundings.

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