Hazard and Somerset, Gregory Ashe [ebook reader with internet browser TXT] 📗

“I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about you. My boyfriend. Mine.”

Cool blue eyes flicked to him and then away, full of amusement. “Yours?”

“Damn right.”

“Ok, then.”

Hazard let out a breath.

“It’s totally settled,” Somers said.

That was when Hazard knew something was wrong. He squinted at Somers.

“You said it. I’m yours, right? If you say I can’t, I can’t.”

“I’m saying it right now: you can’t. I’m not going to allow it.”

Somers nodded.

Then the music cut off, and Will Perk’s voice boomed over the speakers.

“Kings and queens,” he said in his dry, husky voice. “We’re about to begin our first annual bachelor auction. Would the bachelors make their way to the platform, please?”

Somers slid off his stool.

Hazard grabbed his arm. He said the first thing that came to mind. “You’re not a bachelor.”

“No, sweetheart. I’m not. But Will was desperate, and it’s just for charity.” Somers leaned down, kissed Hazard’s cheek, and spoke just loud enough for Hazard to hear him over the crowd: “Tell me what I’m allowed to do one more time, and I will be.”

II

OCTOBER 20

SATURDAY

7:29 PM

SOMERS GOT A THIRTY-SECOND head start through the crowd, and then Hazard charged after him. He was lucky; his size and his reputation made it easy to work his way through the room. Most of the guys melted away when they saw him coming. The few who didn’t, he circumnavigated easily. The odd twink who rushed him, trying to grab his hand or talk to him, bounced off like racquetball.

By the time Hazard caught up to Somers at the stage, the blond man was in a fierce conversation with Bradley Sherill, the Pretty Pretty’s manager.

“But Will didn’t tell me—”

Bradley just shook his head. “Sorry, Somers. Out of time. Either you’re in or you’re out.”

Somers glanced over his shoulder. When he saw Hazard, he turned and said, “Will didn’t tell me I’m supposed to have two outfits.”

“Oops,” Hazard said. “Too bad. I guess you can’t do the auction.”

“Ree!”

Hazard could feel a growl building in his chest. “Maybe if you’d talked to your smart, capable, detail-oriented boyfriend—”

“Handsome,” Somers said, grabbing Hazard by the arms. “You forgot handsome.”

“—he would have helped you get ready. Instead, you dragged him here, lied to him—”

“I never lied. I would never lie.”

“Willfully deceived and manipulated.”

“But I only did those things using my body, and I think that makes it ok.”

“Maybe if you had talked to me—”

“Ok. I get it. I’m an idiot. And an asshole. And a . . . a strumpet.”

“That sounds right.”

“Look, I messed up. I thought it would be kind of a fun surprise. And I know you . . . I know you can get a little jealous.” Now it was Somers’s turn to color. “I kind of . . . like that.”

Suddenly Hazard remembered this conversation from months before—before they had even started dating, in fact. What had Somers said? Something about the hot kind of jealousy. Something about being the kind of guy who got off on it.

Heat coiled in Hazard’s gut. He slid his hands onto Somers’s waist. “I am going to be very, very jealous.”

Somers bit his lower lip and nodded.

“I’m going to shout.”

A tiny shiver ran through Somers.

“I might even throw something.”

“You’re going to be mad,” Somers said, a blush staining his golden cheeks. “Really mad. Crazy with it.”

“And when I’m done showing you how angry I am, I’m going to throw you down on the bed and show you just exactly who you belong to.”

“Oh,” Somers managed to say in a strangled voice.

“Gentlemen, take your places,” Will announced over the speakers again.

“You’re really going to do this?” Hazard said.

“It’s for a trans kid,” Somers said, shrugging, although the blush still hadn’t left his cheeks. “She’s homeless.”

“So we’re doing this for charity,” Hazard said.

“I think it’s the least we can do.”

“Right,” Hazard said. “We are only, exclusively, purely doing this for altruistic reasons.”

“Of course,” Somers said, but he was right back to biting his lip again and looking like he was thinking about anything but selfless human kindness.

“Then you’d better get on the fucking stage,” Hazard said, spinning Somers around and giving him a shove toward the steps.

“But I—”

“I know,” Hazard said, the heat coiling even more tightly in his gut. “I’ll get you the damn outfits.”

III

OCTOBER 20

SATURDAY

7:36 PM

HAZARD DIDN’T HAVE TIME to drive home and pick up clothes for Somers. He had to figure out something here.

He made his way back to the bar.

The bartender, barely more than kid, was wearing a leather vest, dark blue jeans, and a rapt expression as he stared at the men on stage. Hazard guessed the kid hadn’t been out long, judging by the fact that the kid looked like he’d died and gone to heaven. He was supposed to be cutting limes, but the knife and cutting board sat in front of him forgotten.

“Hey,” Hazard said.

The kid actually, honest-to-God licked his lips.

“Hey!”

“Oh. What. I mean, hey.” The kid sidled down the bar, his gaze sliding back to the men on stage. “Yeah, um. What can I get you?”

“Lost and found.”

“Mmm.”

“Hey, kid, before you get your pants all dirty: lost and found.”

“Oh, yeah. Um, can it wait? They’re about to—”

Hazard caught a handful of vest and pulled the kid halfway over the bar. When they were nose to nose, Hazard said, “Sure. I’ll wait.”

“Um. Never mind. We can go look right now.”

The kid took him to the end of the bar, bending to retrieve a box stashed out of sight. When he did, the bright orange elastic of his briefs slid into view. Hazard suppressed a snort.

“What did you say you were looking—”

“I didn’t,” Hazard said, pulling open the box and taking out items: a box of expired condoms, two joints, a lone Chuck with ratty canvas, a moth-eaten fur coat—maybe, Hazard thought, setting it to one side—a keyring with an Elmo figurine attached, a roll of duct tape, a box of mints, two bottles of what Hazard guessed were poppers, and fourteen white t-shirts with Pretty Pretty printed on the front in