Mad & Marvelous

by Elizabeth Varlet

  Hop wanted to say keep talking, and I’ll forget about keeping things low key and knock your teeth out. But he didn’t. Gaining control of the situation was more important than his ego. Besides, he wasn’t so fragile that some careless words from this asshole would hurt more than a mosquito bite.

  With a flirty toss of his hair, Hop sidled close and whispered into Craig’s ear, “I still remember the taste of your come.”

  So fucking predictable, Craig took the bait, dragging Hop’s hips close with a pathetic grunt. Hop hissed and pulled away.

  “Not here,” Hop said. Christ, it was embarrassing enough talking to him. He didn’t want witnesses to his lack of dignity.

  He should have remembered, though, how poorly Craig reacted to being denied—like a spoiled fucking child. He certainly should have remembered how mean he got when he felt his masculinity threatened. Craig’s fingers dug into the bare flesh at Hop’s waist, hard. His expression transformed in an instant from dazed by lust to frigid malice.

  With an uncompromising grip on Hop’s elbow, Craig dragged him toward the hallway that led to the public bathrooms. Hop spared one last glance over his shoulder, up into the rafters.

  It was fine. Just a blow job, not the first and not the last one he’d perform for guys who didn’t deserve them. He wasn’t crossing any lines. No matter how his feelings had changed for Rafe, they were still just employer and employee who happened to have a long and tumultuous history.

  He’d suck Craig’s dick and solve a problem.

  Simple.

  Afterward, Craig would be too insecure to open his fucking mouth about seeing Hop anywhere near Rafe’s club.

  Rafe needed time and Hop could buy it for him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hop was nervous.

  Rafe had seen that stance so often it had become etched in his memory. Every time he’d found Hop shaking in a corner of some stranger’s bedroom high on whatever they’d given him, every fucking time Hop put himself in harm’s way, his shoulders would hunch in a sort of crooked pose. It was the defiant shield hiding his secret dread.

  Seeing it now blinded Rafe to everything else but the need to save him.

  Again.

  He raced down the stairs from the VIP section, leaping two at a time, and still wasn’t fast enough. Trepidation turned his movements shaky as Craig pulled Hop away from the crowd. When Hop glanced toward the office, Rafe lost his goddamn mind.

  The crowd was too thick. His breath came too fast. If he didn’t get through it, he’d have a panic attack right there in the middle of his own damn club.

  Trying to stop the sensation of being trapped, he shoved unapologetically at bodies until they parted to let him through. By the time he reached the men’s room, it felt like a year had passed instead of a few minutes. His hands shook as he pushed the door open.

  There were two guys at the urinals. He tapped them on their shoulders and glared until they took the hint, wrapping it up quickly and fleeing. Two stalls were closed, but they were on opposite ends of the row. Shaking with impatience, Rafe barely held on to his sanity as he ducked his head to look under the door of the closest stall.

  “Down on your knees.” It came from across the room and was followed by a grunt of protest.

  That tiny sound maddened him and turned him into a savage. Blind with territorial aggression, he stormed across the room and slammed his foot into the hollow metal door. It swung open with a bang.

  Rafe took in the scene in the time it took for the door to bounce once and fall from the top hinge. The bastard Craig’s hands were on Hop’s shoulders. Hop was on his knees, defiance in his eyes, his lipstick was smudged and his hair was knotted. With a deafening growl, Rafe punched Craig as hard as he could. Craig’s head snapped back and he fell into the corner. Rafe pulled Hop to his feet, took his hand, and led him out.

  The only reason Craig was still alive was because he hadn’t had the chance to unzip his pants. Fuck, he was a lucky bastard. If Rafe had seen a single pubic hair, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from beating the shit out of the guy. Instead of taking Hop back through the club, he headed toward the emergency exit at the end of the hall.

  Hop tugged his hand. “Rafe, for fuck’s sake.”

  Rafe spun. “Is that what you wanted?”

  “What? Craig?”

  “Do you want him?”

  Hop blinked. “No.”

  It was the answer he expected, but it didn’t put him at ease. Rafe tightened his grip on Hop’s hand and kept moving until they were outside in what passed for fresh air in the city. The blast of cold wind brought clarity.

  With gentle fingers on Hop’s chin, he examined the damage. No bruises, thank God. But he still looked harassed.

  “I should have killed him,” Rafe gritted out.

  Hop grabbed his wrist, trying to dislodge his hold. “What the hell have you done? You idiot.”

  Rafe stepped closer until Hop was pressed up against the rough brick, caged by his body.

  “Calm down.” He used his Dom voice, the deep commanding tone that demanded obedience. He didn’t think about it, it just seemed natural to put Hop at ease.

  To his great surprise, Hop stilled. Crazed eyes blinked up at him, those swirling blue jewels brighter and more mysterious than the ocean.

  “It’s okay.” He poured confidence into his words, letting Hop know that he was safe now.

  A pucker appeared between Hop’s brows.

  “Are you hurt anywhere?” Rafe traced Hop’s cheekbone to his ear with his thumb.

  Hop shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough.”

  “You should have let it happen. Now he’s going to tell Malcolm I was here.”

  “Let him. I don’t give a fuck.”

  “Rafe.”

  “What? Are you going to tell me you didn’t do that for me? Are you trying to convince yourself we’re still enemies?”

  “Aren’t we?”

  “No. Jesus, I told you. I’ve never been your enemy.”

  “Then what are we?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That clarifies everything.” He struggled again, but Rafe leaned closer.

  “Stop,” he whispered into Hop’s ear. As orders went, it was a soft one, but Hop responded, tilting nearer as if he were waiting for more. That subtle movement told Rafe more about Hop than he’d figured out the whole time he’d been his unwilling guardian. How had he not realized sooner?

  Rafe lowered his nose into Hop’s hair and gave in to something he’d been fantasizing about since the first glimpse.

  Strawberries.

  How fucking perfect.

  He rested his palm against the cold brick and drew on all of his discipline. It didn’t help. Hop’s sweet scent surrounded him, infusing every breath with sensual possibility. And Christ, the way he obeyed, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if he couldn’t do anything but give in to Rafe’s direction.

  It was fucking temping.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” There was so much vulnerability in that stutter. It burrowed inside and made a home deep in Rafe’s chest.

  “Going mad.”

  * * *

  “Rafe?” Goosebumps broke out across Hop’s skin and it wasn’t because it was below zero.

  Rafe was sniffing his hair.

  “Shh.” A large palm smoothed down his arm.

  Hop flinched before he could stop himself. Rafe pulled back, brows pursed. He looked at Hop’s arm. “Does that hurt?”

  Hop avoided Rafe’s perceptive gaze.

  “Answer me,” Rafe said.

  When Rafe sounded like that, Hop couldn’t stop himself from giving in. “A little.”

  “Seriously shoulda killed him.”

&nbs
p; Hop’s head spun. Lust and pain, fear and expectation whipped through him typhoon style and he was left a shaky disoriented mess. He hated being a mess.

  More than that, he despised that Rafe was there as a witness again.

  It brought their past too close to their present. Why did Rafe always have to be the one to find him when he was at his lowest? Was there something written in the pages of fate that kept them tied together in this way? Had they each sinned in a previous life? Was this endless loop their punishment?

  He didn’t want Rafe to look at him like he used to, as if Hop was just another problem that needed to be dealt with. Things had changed. He was stronger and smarter now. This situation wouldn’t paint a clear picture of his life, but it was all Rafe would see.

  It was all he’d know.

  If he was ever going to change things, Hop needed to start now. He wasn’t a victim and he could take care of himself. Without Rafe, he’d grown up, moved on, survived. There was no way he’d go back to the way things were before.

  He shrugged out of Rafe’s touch. “I had it under control.”

  “Yeah? Sure looked like that to me.” Sarcasm dripped off his words and pissed Hop off.

  “Craig is nothing. You think I couldn’t handle him? Please. You don’t know anything about me or what I’ve gone through, no matter that you always seem to think you know better. You don’t. Why can’t you let me handle things on my own?” With every word, his voice rose.

  Rafe took it all like the calm in a storm, which bothered Hop even more. Here they were again. It was more embarrassing than Craig pushing him to his knees.

  Because he actually cared what Rafe thought of him.

  Probably always had.

  He was so fucking sick of this endless cycle. Thing was, no one was going to break him out of it. No, those chains were deep inside, keeping him anchored to his past. Only he had the key to break those fuckers.

  Wasn’t it about time?

  “Why the fuck do you even care whose dick I suck? Huh? It’s none of your business.”

  “You’re wrong.” Rafe’s mouth crushed his.

  Holy fuck.

  Hop was so startled his hands landed on Rafe’s pecs, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his designer shirt. His eyes fluttered closed and his mouth opened for more without any need for persuasion on Rafe’s part. It was a kiss that put all other kisses to shame.

  Whiskey and cherries burst on his tongue like sinful fireworks, exploding lust bombs that obliterated Hop’s defenses as if they were paper. He was spinning, spinning, spinning and the only thing anchoring him to earth was Rafe’s delicious tongue. It swiped and teased and possessed every inch of Hop’s mouth.

  He really was a shameless slut. But in that moment, Hop couldn’t care less. They were tangled up in each other, sharing air and heat and daring promise.

  Rafe’s lips were firm and powerful, his tongue, practiced and exciting. And damn, Rafe’s taste was life itself, both forbidden and necessary. If Hop didn’t get another hit, he might die.

  One of Rafe’s large palms grabbed Hop’s ass while the other wrapped up in his hair. With that grip, he maneuvered Hop exactly how he wanted and all Hop could do was hold on for the ride. He was enveloped in Rafe’s embrace and he’d never felt more protected or more desired.

  Shit. The truth of that thought hit him like a cold wave. What was he doing? His heart skidded sideways. Hop blinked his eyes open as sanity swept through him along with the winter breeze. This time when he shoved, Rafe shifted away.

  “Did I hurt you?” He seemed disoriented.

  Hurt him? No, not physically at least. Rafe had never used his strength against him, but there were other ways to harm someone. And sometimes they cut deeper than physical wounds ever could.

  Rafe had showed a young Hop what it meant to be dependable. He’d made a naive and troubled young teenager believe there’d always be someone there to protect him. And then he’d disappeared without any explanation and broken him more surely than Roland ever could have. Hop had harbored a youthful and pathetic crush on his savior back then, but he wasn’t young or tragic any longer.

  “You’re not going to tell me how it was a mistake?” Now that there was space between them, the chill sank through Hop’s thin clothes.

  “Was it?”

  “You’re asking me?”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who stopped first.” Rafe tilted his head and crossed his arms.

  Yeah, Hop had stopped because he’d gone too deep, too fast. “Look.” He tossed his hair. “Whatever you may think of me, I’ve never done married men, okay? That’s where I draw the line.” Technically his mother hadn’t been his father’s mistress, but her experience had taught Hop a few lessons.

  “Who told you I was married?”

  “You’re not?”

  “No, I’ve never even been engaged. Where the hell is that idea coming from?”

  Hop didn’t really have an answer that wouldn’t betray old wounds, so he kept quiet.

  “Is that the only reason you pushed me away?”

  No, it was just the handiest excuse. Now that it was gone, Hop was left hanging in the frozen wind.

  He was still the stupid kid who’d hidden behind garbage cans watching his crush kiss a girl and aching for something he hadn’t understood at the time—that sense of freedom that came with offering himself to a master to be used.

  “I need to get home,” he said, turning away. He skirted the crowd and slipped into the dressing room where he’d left his bag and coat. As he left the club, he couldn’t ignore the pang of disappointment in his chest.

  Rafe hadn’t followed him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Despite the fact that getting involved with Hop was a terrible business decision, Rafe couldn’t get that kiss out of his head. For once in his life, he wanted something that wasn’t about contracts and acquisitions or protecting his responsibilities.

  He wanted something for himself.

  Selfish.

  But he was too fucking gone to step back from this particular ride.

  That night he’d acted on impulse and everything that followed had knocked him on his ass and left him spinning. Jealousy, possessiveness, and overwhelming lust was a mix too powerful to withstand, breaking his good intentions.

  That kiss, full of pent-up frustrations and threads of anger, had been brutal. Vulnerability and yearning simmered under the surface of their lips and tangled tongues. Rafe had been drunk on it all, the taste of Hop—his scent.

  Christ, he still smelled strawberries every time he closed his fucking eyes.

  Hop’s resistance melted away as if it had been instinctual. Nothing mattered in that cold dark moment except the heat they produced together. Rafe lost all sense.

  All control.

  He hadn’t been ready to let go. He hadn’t been capable of reason. So he’d watched Hop runaway when his inclination was to tether and secure and restrict.

  Somewhere between then and now, he’d accepted this thing between them wasn’t going away. He was done wallowing in the what-ifs and could-bes, done worrying about things that might never happen.

  For once, he was going to jump without looking.

  Hell, he took risks every day. They just usually came with legal paperwork and insurance policies.

  Starting something with Hop could blow up in his face, but fuck he wanted another taste of those strawberry lips. He wanted to figure out what had happened to change the kid he used to know into the intriguing man he was now.

  His body and mind had already claimed Hop.

  Now all he had to do was confront the object of his desire with a choice. Simple really.

  Too bad Hop had avoided him like a professional bond skipper for the past seven days. Honestly, the guy had some kind of superpower that allowed him t
o disappear whenever Rafe came close.

  The moment Mark sent word that the Boyz had arrived, Rafe headed to the dressing area. He’d never intruded before, but his patience was running out and if he didn’t make the order himself, Hop would never obey.

  Just seeing Hop warmed his blood.

  Tam was the first to notice him leaning against the doorframe. His eyes widened and he sucked in a gasp that had the rest of the dancers turning. Rafe’s attention was on Hop so he saw the pinned-in-the-headlights surprise that transformed his expression the moment he realized he was caught.

  And he wasn’t getting away this time.

  Before anyone could speak, Rafe said, “Come to my office after the show tonight, we have things to discuss.”

  “What things?” A voice drew Rafe’s attention. It came from the tall blond, Ansel.

  “As the Sassy Boyz’ liaison, Hop is the only one who needs to know.”

  Ansel’s eyebrows rose. “Liaison?”

  Rafe returned his gaze to Hop, where it should be. “After the show.” Or else. He let the threat hang in the air and waited in the silence until Hop gave a tiny, almost imperceptible, nod. Then he spun on his heels and left to a chorus of curses and questions.

  Let Hop chew on that for a few hours. By the time he came to Rafe’s office he’d be right on the edge—exactly where Rafe wanted him.

  * * *

  After the show. After the show. After the show.

  Those words played on a loop in Hop’s mind with Rafe’s voice, deep and commanding. Hot. Irresistible. Damn him.

  He’d thought it was over. After seven days of not seeing Rafe, Hop had believed Rafe had chosen to forget the whole night. Hop’s hands shook as he refreshed his lipstick in the mirror.

  It’d been an empty kiss. That’s all.

  A mistake caused by adrenaline, nothing else. Nothing deep.

  There were a thousand reasons Rafe might have called him to his office that had nothing to do with their nonexistent relationship. Maybe there was an issue with the contract. Maybe he needed a different signature. Maybe a schedule needed to be fixed.