Page 88 of Jackrabbit

Colt left, his laughter following him out into the lobby.

Chapter 41

Beau watched Colt with his fire suit around his waist, slowly pulling off a black Dead Wake hoodie with a death moth emblazoned across the chest while someone took a hundred pictures. The neon pink compression shirt underneath rode up, showing his abs, his tattoos—one inch higher and the camera crew from Dead Wake would see the dark purple hickey Beau had left next to Colt’s right nipple.

That perfectly built chest with its spattering of hair just a shade darker than Colt’s head. How it had felt in his mouth, his hands, how those pecs would feel against his—

Stop.

"—so hot," a girl sighed from somewhere near the hauler. The Dead Wake crew. "You think he's single?"

"I think he's gay." Another girl, quieter. "That's what the track forums say. We're supposed to watch for anything we can use in his ads. He's controversial here."

"He's pan." A man's voice. Beau's hands stilled on the wrench. "Told me right before he railed me to within an inch of my life."

The girls' squeals were loud enough that Beau had to glance over. Short guy, dark hair, thick beard. Leaning in like he was sharing a secret, but his voice still carried across the garage.

"Andre! When?"

"Two years ago, maybe? Right after my top surgery." A pause. Beau's jaw tightened. "He was... God, he was so good. Treated me like a filthy slut and like a king all at once."

Beau dropped the wrench. It hit his boot, and pain shot through his toes, sharp enough to make him hiss.

"Oh my God, tell me everything—"

"Six times," Andre said, grinning with pink cheeks. "He doesn't do relationships, but he's very active in the community, if you know what I mean."

"A man whore," one of the girls sighed with a dreamy smile. "I love it."

A slut and a king.

Six times?

Every time Colt had begged to touch Beau, that incredibly hot babbling about having Beausit on his face—Colt was a giver in bed, wasn't he? Of course he was. He didn't just want to be told he was good, he wanted to earn it. That's why he didn't seem content with just taking like a lot of men Beau had slept with. He needed—

Exactly what Beau wasn't giving him.

He wanted to. That was the problem, wasn't it? The wanting. That burning feeling Beau hadn't felt for a man in years and years. Hadneverfelt for a man so much younger than him. It bordered on need, and Beau couldn’t afford to need anyone.

Need made him possessive, controlling, worried. Need made him start fights because he wanted to keep that person safe. Made him push and push until he drove them to do something reckless just to prove they didn't need protecting.

Like how Sutton had gone out on that track after—

He slammed the thought down before it could finish. His chest tightened, the familiar phantom smell of burnt rubber and scorched metal clawing up his throat. He focused on the wrench in his hand until the weight of it felt real again.

"Hey, Andre."

Beau looked up in time to see Colt wander toward the group—but not before Colt's gaze foundhimfirst. Just for a second. A flicker of green eyes, a hint of a smile.

Then Colt slung his arm casually over Andre's shoulders, easy and familiar. "I like the beard. Almost didn't recognize you with it."

Christ. Of course he remembered some random hookup from years ago. Charming little shit.

Beau pulled out from under the hood and dropped it closed hard enough that the sound echoed.

"Thanks!” Andre rubbed his beard. “It came in patchy at first, but it's been great the past year or so.”

“Rourke,” Beau snapped. “Car's ready. Get in and start your warm-up.”