Page 22 of Hot Rucking Canadian

Well, kissed me back.

I hit the remote for the garage.

As I cycled quickly through the evening in my mind, his conversation with Cassandra kept coming to the fore. His brutal honesty.

I understood why he’d done it. He saw his life as a cautionary tale. And, right now, Cassandra was on an incredible trajectory. But things could change in a heartbeat. People died. Accidents happened. Hearts got broken. Those things could lead someone down a dark path.

Badarse was proof one could come out the other side. Yes, with scars, tattoos, and all kinds of other visible examples of pain. But a survivor nonetheless.

I respected him all the more for that.

After exiting my car, I made my way over to him. Without preamble, I snagged him around the waist, and drew him toward me.

He came willingly. Pliantly.

I kissed him. No gentle brushing of lips this time. No this was tongues entwining. This was grinding against each other. This was pure passion. I didn’t give a flying fuck if I got hard in my jeans. We only had a short elevator ride up, and then we could carry this sexual tension to its logical conclusion. I wanted him. He clearly wanted me. The rest was just mechanics, positions, and orgasms.

He pulled away first.

I gazed into his lust-filled blue eyes. “What do I call you? Travis or Badarse?”

Those eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite identify. If I had to guess, though, I would’ve said pain.

“You can call me whatever you like.”

“What do your friends call you?” I wanted to ask what his lovers called him, but that felt way too personal a question. And, perhaps, something I didn’t want the answer to.

He cleared his throat. “I, uh, don’t have a lot of friends.”

I ached an eyebrow.

“Well, okay. The mate who nicknamed me was a bit of a friend. So yeah, Badarse has sentimental meaning. My buddy Dodge,who is close to a friend, calls me Trav. I don’t really like that, but I’d never say that to him.”

“Is there a story behind the name Dodge?”

He grinned. “You bet. But we’ll save that for another time.”

“Yeah, okay.” I tipped his chin so our eyes met. “You didn’t answer my question. Badarse, Trav, or Travis?” I hissed thatsjust a little bit.

He pressed his erect cock against my hip. “No one’s called me that since my mother.”

“Does that make you sad, or—”

“I like it.” He blinked. “Badarse is the guy who goes up towers for a living—risking his life. Trav is the guy who hangs out with his—” He cleared his throat. “—friend, Dodge. But Travis is who I could’ve been. If I hadn’t fucked up.”

I pressed my finger to his lips. “If you’d fucked up, then we never would’ve met each other.” I sought the right words. “I’ll bet your mother would be proud of the man you’ve become. You turned your life around. Nothing would’ve prevented her death. But you could’ve continued down that dangerous and likely deadly path. Or you could’ve chosen the right way. You did that.”

“You make it sound almost religious. Like some divine intervention or shit.”

Slowly, I shook my head. “No, that’s my mother. I’m more pragmatic. I think human beings have free will and that everything is not predestined. That we choose our paths. And yeah, sometimes we fucking get it wrong. But we can own that and move forward or we can sit and wallow in the shit. I’m for team Moving Forward.”

He laughed. “I love your attitude. Okay, I think we’ve had enough baring of our souls for one night.” He picked at his jeans. “You have a dryer? Or can I hang them up somewhere?”

If he hung them up, he’d have to stay longer. Right? “I have a dryer. I avoid using it when I can. I like saving money.”

He grinned. “Also an environmentalist?”

I furrowed my brow as if considering before breaking into a huge grin. “Yeah. I like that you get it.”

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