Page 18 of His Boys to Protect

Skylar took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and read Uncle Zeke's text.

Boss Man: Come by whenever you're done.

Skylar winced.Shit. He slammed his head back against the seat's headrest.Why?Why tonight, of all nights? The mancouldn't have done this two nights ago, when Skylar was already feeling dirty after dealing with a repeat client? Why now, when Skylar felt reborn?

Damn it!He almost flung his phone across the car, except he couldn't risk any damage to it. Skylar deliberately set it down, then clenched both hands into fists.

He considered lying. Go home, go to bed,'find'Uncle Zeke's text the next morning, explain that he slept right through it. But they had a deal. Whenever Skylar saw a new client, he had to check in afterwards. All the escorts did. It was the first layer of safety for all of them. If Skylar didn't check in, Uncle Zeke might start rallying emergency services, just in case Skylar was hurt. A text reply wouldn't be enough. Uncle Zeke would want to see him in person.

Skylar had no choice but to obey.

He jammed the key into the ignition, almost wishing his car would pick this moment to die on him. The damned thing started right up just fine, though. Skylar sighed.So much for that excuse. He pulled on his seatbelt, put the car in gear, and headed for his apartment.

No way in hell was he going straight to Uncle Zeke after having just been with Ward.

But the thought of taking a shower almost made him sick. Skylar didn't want to wash Ward's touch away. He wanted to savor it. Revel in it. Drown in the memories of the man's gentle hands all over his skin. He could still taste Ward on his lips. Still smell the man's scent all over himself. Why couldn't he have had this night to cling to those things? Why did Uncle Zeke have to go and ruin it?I mean, I know why, he told himself. Uncle Zeke always wanted to check that he was safe, especially after being with a new client.But still. Jumping Jiminy on a pogo stick, this isn't fucking fair!

He reached his building, climbed the stairs to his fourth-floor apartment, and let himself inside. The studio space was chilly, but Skylar didn't dare turn on the heater. He had to save every penny.

Skylar crossed to the bathroom in the dark. He hung the garment bag over the bathroom door, then stripped out of his clothes and got the shower running. The bathroom window afforded just enough light from the streetlamps for him to see what he was doing. Skylar hesitated, sticking out his hand to test the water.

Even that made him wince. Ward had touched him there. Now, the water was rinsing that touch away.

Skylar took a deep breath, holding it as he closed his eyes. Maybe he'd have to think of it differently. Instead of the shower washing Ward off of him, maybe he could scrub Ward's touchintohis skin. Push it down deep where nobody could ever reach it. Where nobody could ever taint it or dirty it or take it away. Skylar would keep Ward's touch locked inside his body, safe and treasured.

He stepped into the shower and went about methodically washing himself, keeping his eyes closed, picturing Ward's touch sinking down into his skin, absorbing it into his body so it would always be a part of him. Skylar scrubbed extra hard on the back of his neck, where Ward had traced those feather-light kisses. On his hands, where Ward had covered them with his own. Across his chest, where Ward had explored his scars. All down his back, where Ward had blanketed his body, making him feel safe and surrounded and warm.

Skylar soaked it all in, locking it deep inside himself, in a place nobody could ever reach. The place he went to mentally escape his life. He added Ward to his fantasy of a quiet home surrounded by trees. Somewhere far from this cursed city, wherenobody knew him. Where he could finally be his true self. Where he could be free to live an authentic life, loving and being loved.

He'd never have that, but it was one of the few thoughts that kept him going.

Skylar got out of the shower and dried himself off, eyeing the sleeve of tattoos that covered his left arm. They represented all of his favorite things. The simple joys that made life bearable. Things like music and trees. Like mists and coffee. He wore them all upon his skin, making them part of him, a constant reminder that there were things worth living for.

There was one spot left blank. One spot Skylar wasn't sure he'd ever be able to fill. He'd considered having Charlie's name put there, but something always stopped him.

Not that he didn't love Charlie. And not that Charlie wasn't one of his joys. Hell, Charlie was easily his greatest joy. But every time he was on the verge of deciding to have the ink done, something always made him wait. Like a gut feeling that he simply couldn't explain.

Skylar traced the empty spot, suddenly tempted to put Ward's name there, too.

He pushed the thought down before it could really take shape. Before he dared to allow himself to dream.

Skylar brushed his teeth, swallowing down the touch of Ward's tongue, absorbing the man's deep, drugging kisses. Once that was done, Skylar flicked on a light and studied his reflection in the small mirror over the sink. He didn't look like he'd just been wrung dry with mind-blowing pleasure. There wasn't so much as a mark on his body to show that Ward had ever been there. A part of him wished he could have gotten a bruise or a hickey orsomething, some visible sign that Ward had claimed him, even for a few short hours, but the man had been too gentle with him. So wonderfully, achingly gentle.

Skylar sighed and closed his eyes. He gave himself one more moment to live in the memory of Ward's touch, then he forced it all down deep, putting all thoughts of the man aside. For the next few hours, he couldn't think about Ward at all. He wouldn't dirty those precious memories by trying to hide in them while he was in Uncle Zeke's bed. He'd keep them safely locked away inside his mind, only to be brought back out once he was clean again and alone.

He got dressed, first pulling on a lacy, long-sleeved, black shirt. It itched like hell, but he knew Uncle Zeke would want to see him in it. For one thing, it was girly. For another, it covered his tattoos and his surgery scars. Skylar's transition had been a source of endless arguments over the years, and the ink had only made things worse, but Skylar had refused to back down.

It was either transition or suicide.

Besides, he was so good at his job and made Uncle Zeke so much money that the man had ultimately relented. Still, that didn't mean Uncle Zeke wanted to see any of it, so Skylar knew to keep it all hidden.

The rest of his clothing didn't matter since it would all be coming off anyway, so he dressed for comfort, wearing threadbare flannel pants and an old hoodie he'd gotten from Charlie years ago. He dragged on a pair of socks, stepped into his worn-out sneakers—the only shoes he owned for himself rather than for work—got back into his car, and headed for Uncle Zeke's apartment.

It put him almost back in the same area where Ward's hotel had been. Skylar had to shove that thought aside and focus on navigating the dark streets. He found a place to park—around the corner and out of sight, so his car wouldn't spoil the nice neighborhood—and walked the rest of the way. Once inside the building, Skylar considered taking the stairs just to delay theinevitable, but Uncle Zeke lived on the fifteenth floor. He'd be a sweaty, panting mess by the time he got there.

He rode up in the elevator, forced his footsteps down the hallway, and knocked on the familiar door.

Uncle Zeke answered almost right away. The man leered down at him, making Skylar feel instantly dirty. He held a whiskey tumbler in one hand and used the other to reach out and finger Skylar's hair.

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