Page 42 of His Secret Betrayal
“Aren’t you just so precious? Coming in here on your high horse in your fancy clothes. I’ll bet you’ll walk out of here and pat yourself on the back for doing a good deed, and then you’ll go back to your boring life and wonder when you became so pathetic.”
I cock my head, narrowing my eyes as I study the now irate woman. This is the version of Evelyn Luke is most familiar with, the one that gets in his head and tells him he isn’t good enough. The thought of her talking to him like this makes me seered. I clench my hands at my side, hoping she doesn’t notice the way they shake.
He deserves to have sweet praises whispered in his ear, not whatever this is. I silently resolve to tell him all the ways in which I find him perfect, and I’ll keep repeating it until I push her voice out of his head.
She sneers at me. “If you’re trying to fix me on Luke’s behalf, don’t bother. I like my life just the way it is. Now kindly get the fuck out of my apartment.”
I draw in a slow, steady breath and remind myself that if I tear apart everything around me with my bare hands, I’ll go to jail. Turning around, I intend to walk out without another word. But I stop short when something occurs to me. Glancing over my shoulder, I give her a withering look. “Far be it from me to tell you how to parent, but your other son might like to know you’re alive.”
“Get. Out.”
I ignore her and muse aloud, “I can’t help but find it curious. It makes me wonder what angle you’re playing here. The sob story about wanting to get sober first is obviously bullshit, so it must benefit you somehow. Maybe Jax knows something you don’t want Luke to find out, huh?”
“Get out!” she screams. I barely duck in time when she sends a glass ashtray flying across the room. It lands against the wall just inches shy of my head with athud. I laugh humorlessly as I slip out the door, slam it shut behind me, and stalk down the sidewalk until I reach my car.
“If I never see that witch again, it’ll still be too soon,” I murmur, tossing the two duffle bags into the passenger seat with a little more force than necessary. My fingers are shaking as I start the ignition. As I pull onto the road, I roll the window down and let the winter breeze cool my anger. When the near-freezing air gets to be too much, my cheeks going numb, I roll the windows back up. After several deep breaths, the shaking subsides, and my heart rate settles back into its normal rhythm.
That woman isn’t a mother. She’s a monster, and I should know. I was raised by two of them, after all. Right now, I don’t want to think about the two people who were meant to love me unconditionally but preferred alcohol over the company of their only son.
Instead, I would rather think about Luke. The thought of getting my hands back on him has arousal buzzing in my blood, my mouth going dry. He had been so hungry and desperate for it,needyeven. His curiosity and eagerness had been hot as hell. It makes me wonder if that curiosity would extend to topping as well as bottoming.
But in the light of day, I have no clue what happens next. We didn’t talk about it before…well,before. Questions, fears, and what-ifs plague my mind as I drive home on autopilot. Does he want more, or did he mean for last night to be a one-time thing? Was it just a way to forget his problems or was it an experiment? If I let him see my scars, will he be disgusted?
There’s a pull between us I can’t ignore anymore.
But I’m not going to pressure him for something he isn’t ready for. I have to let him come to me first. The power balance between us is already skewed a little too highly on my end, and I don’t want to take advantage of him. I meant what I said last week—I don’t give a fuck what society thinks about us being together, but I do care what Luke thinks.
And okay, I would prefer it if my son were cool with it.
But, quite frankly, the rest of society can get fucked. Sure, people might disapprove of our relationship for many reasons. There’s our age difference, he’s my employee, my son’s best friend, and there’s also the fact we’re both men. And unfortunately, homophobia is somehow still a thing in the twenty-first century.
The same people who would judge me for being with Luke are the same people who turned a blind eye when I was nothing more than a homeless kid on the street.
But before I can ponder the next steps, I have to get back to the house and face the repercussions of my actions. Peering over at the duffle bags next to me, my palms begin to sweat. I wouldn’t blame him if he took one look at these bags, saw what a red flag I am, and ran for the hills. It would be a reasonable reaction after realizing I snuck out of bed this morning, showed up unannounced and without permission at his apartment, and tried to make the decision for him to move out by going through his personal things and packing his bags.
Whipping my car into my driveway, I sigh. Maybe it’s better for him to discover my control issues early on, before we become too intertwined with each other.
Although, it might be too late for me.
Alek
“What are you doing?” I bark, dropping the duffel bags and gaping at Luke. After walking into the house with knots in my stomach, unsure what to expect and fearing he would wake up with regret, I thought he might be hiding in the guestroom or sulking over breakfast. This, however, did not cross my mind.
My gaze zeroes in on the sight of a bare-ass, naked Luke sitting on my leather couch, his mouth-watering erectionon display, and phone posed over it. Seeing that beautiful, hard cock glistening with precum at the flared head makes my body buzz with instant arousal.
“Uh, shit. I can explain,” he hastens to say, his phone tumbling onto the floor. It lands screen up, with the camera lens open.
I stiffen, folding my arms to lean against the door frame. I’m both pissed offandturned on now. It must show on my face because Luke visibly gulps, his Adam’s apple dipping. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I fucked him into the mattress until he was a writhing, whining mess.
If anybody should be getting pictures of his cock, it should beme.
I earned them.
I want them.
“I was taking a video…” he trails off, his hand still wrapped around his erection.
Heat pools in my belly, blood running to my own cock. It begins to thicken, even as the jealousy consumes me. It’s an ugly, sticky sensation swirling in my gut, banging on the door and demanding to be let out. He swallows, squirming as I prowl toward him and sit on the edge of the coffee table, putting our bodies only inches apart. I widen my knees and causally prop my arms on my thighs as I lean forward. My voice is a low, steely rumble when I speak again.
