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I need to get the hell out of here.

Matthew never glanced away from me as he traveled the distance from the bed to the bathroom. “In case you aren't here when I get back, that was great. Worth the wait, you know?”

I nodded but couldn't keep my gaze level with his. Once he slipped into the smaller room, I wrestled my shirt on. Richard lay back and watched me.

I went to the door. My back to the room, I didn't plan on speaking, until the words were already in the air between us and I had no way to take them back. “Thanks. I needed that.” My hand gripped the doorknob until my knuckles turned white.

“Me too,” he said.

I stepped out in the hall and jerked the door shut.

What the hell
? I didn't thank anyone. Not for something as simple as fucking.

The walk down to the main floor of the club was never as anticipation filled as the walk up, but it didn't bother me. I didn't mind anyone knowing what I'd been up to in a room upstairs. I liked the idea some things were that uncomplicated.

The bar was as crowded as before and would remain that way until the place closed. Some men wanted to keep the night going, even if they'd already taken a walk up the stairs. One quick drink and I'd head home. I never stayed long after the sex, but something wouldn't let me walk out. Something in me wanted to hold on to the night a little longer, hold on to the lingering sensations of them all over my body. No three-way had ever had me so undone.

I slumped onto a stool.

One of the regular bartenders approached. “Hey, Luke. Mr. Simon wanted you to know he's in tonight.”

“Thanks. He been waiting long?”

“Not long. He's at his usual table.”

A delighted smile hit my lips. Walter Simon was the one man who could elicit such a response without the anticipation of sexual follow-up. He was also the only club member whose last name everyone knew. He no longer frequented the club on a regular basis, but he'd been a member since the day the place opened.

Walter sat on the other side of the room, his legs crossed, an arm draped over the back of his chair, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His gaze swept over the dancing crowd. The gray at his temples dusting into the dark hair gave him a distinguished demeanor. As a cop, he'd kept in shape his entire life. Even his years as a detective and his early retirement hadn't softened him. There was a hard edge to his build. Yet his demeanor fit his current job, the CEO of his own security tech company.

He was the first man I'd fucked at the club, and was the only member I called a friend. I would've considered the man the closest to a father figure I knew as an adult, but since I'd sucked his cock, I kept the analogy in check.

I sat at his table. “I didn't see you when I came down.”

Walter gave up on the crowd and smirked. “I noticed you were preoccupied.” He tipped his glass at a young waiter by the table. “And a beer for my friend.” Walter's gaze followed the young man's retreat to the bar behind me.

“He's cute,” I said.

Walter met my stare and gave a shallow nod. “It's good to see you. Haven't talked with you in a while.”

“Checking up on me?”

He tilted his drink my way. “You usually need checking up on.”

I huffed out a short laugh. “I've been okay. Work's keeping me busy.”

“It's good to see you taking time off. Then again, you wouldn't miss a Friday night at the Haven.”

“Not a chance.”

“That's why I'm here,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you. Something came up with Vargas.”

The waiter returned with our drinks. Walter sipped his new whiskey before saying more. “I met with him on a few security issues. He asked me to speak with you.”

“Did I do something wrong?” I took a long swig of my beer.

“No.” Walter set his glass on the table and rubbed the side of it with the pad of his thumb. “He received a call about you earlier this week.”

My beer bottle clanked onto the table. “About me?”

“The man didn't give a name. Just asked how long you've been a member. How often you're here.”

An invisible vice gripped my chest. “And what did Vargas tell him?”

“Nothing, of course. Vargas has managed this club too many years to risk upsetting his clientele. He doesn't discuss club members with anyone, especially an anonymous caller. He wanted you to know someone was asking about you.” Walter sipped his whiskey again and scrutinized me. “Your father?”

“Who else?” Whether my father had made the call himself or not wasn't the point. It didn't bother me the man knew I was a member of a gay sex club. What bothered the hell out of me was he'd discovered where I played. My stalkers would be following me on the way home.

“Eventually someone's going to push the topic of his son,” Walter said. “No one knows anything about you. You can't be in politics for long and hide your family, hide the fact that— ”

“Your son's a queer?”

“I take it he'll blame you for any fallout with his conservative constituents?”

“That's an understatement. Everything wrong in his life is my fault.”

Walter knew my father hurt me years ago, but he knew few details. He didn't press the topic. Most of the time he knew when to push. And when not to.

“So, who were you with tonight?” Genuine and direct. No bullshit with Walter. It was part of the reason I liked him.

“Richard and Matthew.”

“Matthew? Maybe twenty, twenty-one, with dark hair?”

“Yep.”

“I know several Richards.”

“He's got a scar across his chest.” Why the hell did I choose that quality to mention?

“That wouldn't be the blond with a body that makes the rest of these guys look like they're at play in the schoolyard?”

I lifted my beer for another swig and smirked before the bottle hit my lips. “That'd be him.”

“Ah. Quite the night, then.”

“You know them? The way I just knew them?”

He laughed. Our banter relaxed me in a way little else did. That was until I'd found myself upstairs with the two men we were discussing. And that bothered me— more than when I'd been in bed with them.

“No,” Walter said in a long, drawn-out groan. I wasn't used to hearing that tone from him. “The kid's far too young for me.” He shook his head. “I haven't played in years.” He waved his hand at the crowd of dancing men as if the idea of being with any of them was absurd. He seized his drink and raised it to his lips again. The whiskey lingered in a long, slow sip. Walter watched me over the edge of the glass.

“You've made exceptions on occasion,” I said.

He tipped his head back and laughed again. “That I have. Matthew, huh? I've heard a few things. He's... enthusiastic.”

A snort escaped. “You can say that again.” I signaled to the waiter, and he brought me another beer.

“And Richard,” Walter said when we were alone again, “well, he hasn't been in the club in some time.”

“I hadn't seen him before.” Thinking about them was awakening my cock again. I shifted in my seat. I had to get my ass home and my mind off the club.

“The last time he was here on a regular basis was more than five years ago. And before you ask again, no, we never hooked up. Last time I saw him, we were both on to something more serious.”

“Serious?” I lifted my beer again in an attempt to appear casual, but the question wasn't at all. Why was I interested in Richard's past? I definitely needed to get home.

“He and his partner didn't come to the club once they were exclusive.”

I nodded my understanding and downed another mouthful of the beer. At the rate I swallowed it, I'd have trouble getting my ass to a cab if I stayed much longer.

Walter stilled the hand holding his drink and regarded me with a long stare. He leaned back in his chair. “I think he might be just what you need.”

“I already had him. So"— I whipped a hand through the air—"that was it.”

“Right. Your rule. Was it a one-night thing for him too?”

“Yep.”

Walter studied me for another moment before his gaze traveled over the crowd of men. He wasn't about to pick any of them up. His scan was more amusement than intention.

The silence disturbed me. And that was odd. Walter and I didn't talk every moment we were together. In fact, most of the time we didn't talk much at all. It was another reason I liked him.

I sighed. “What is it you think I need?”

He didn't respond. I followed his stare to a couple near the far corner of the bar. They danced— or a better description might be embraced, or made love with their clothes on. Their lips didn't touch, but every other part of their bodies did. My eyes narrowed. Not many men at the club came together with such heat and familiarity. It seemed futile. Why would two men ever think they could succeed at long-term? The passion they exuded would never last. Not if they continued to patronize the Haven with its stream of available men.

“To trust yourself enough to put yourself at risk,” Walter said.

I surrendered my judgmental stare. “I take risks all the time.” I laughed at my own words.

“I meant for you to risk more than your body.” He leaned forward and whispered. “Your parents aren't the only people in the world who can love you.”

“Yeah. And they aren't the only ones who can fuck you over.” Walter might have been the one person I could let go in front of and still be able to look at myself in the mirror the next morning, but I wasn't about to test the theory.

He continued to probe me with his stare. I found myself pondering what the man must have been thinking. Why did I let my parents have control over my life? Why did I let what they thought about me garner much import when it came to how I lived? And why the hell did spending more than one night with a guy scare the shit out of me?

“All right. Enough,” I said. “Quit looking at me. I've got a lot of things I'm fucked up about. I know that. I don't need you to remind me. This is who I am. I'm enjoying my life.”

“You could have more, you know. More than fucking at the club.”

I scanned the slew of men surrounding our table. “I happen to like fucking at the club.” As the words left my mouth, Matthew walked by the bar. His damp hair stuck out every which way, the waves returning. He wore a broad smile, and the man had a definite spring in his step. I smirked.

“I know you do,” Walter said. “But trust me, one day you'll be old like me and you won't be able to sit alone in the silence for more than five minutes at a time. Your life will suffocate you.”

Concern for him welled in my chest. I had no idea what to do about it.

Walter's shoulders slumped as he sank into the chair. “I wouldn't have traded my time with Gary for anything in the world. I have a past I can look back on. It's what I hold on to when I'm lonely. You have no past and no future. Your misery will encompass you until not even your random sexual encounters will be able to make it all go away.”

I spotted Richard as he stepped down the stairs. He stopped and scanned the bar, and his gaze stilled once it landed on me. I expected him to walk past and leave the club.

He didn't. He strode toward me.

Walter stood. “I've got to go.”

“Don't run off.”

He waved a hand in the air. “Call me when you get a chance.”

“I didn't mean to rush your friend off.” The voice was as husky and strong as it'd been when he'd first spoken to me.

I stood. “It's fine.”

Richard stepped closer, his gaze fixated on me. The stare was intense, like maybe he thought he'd imagined the entire escapade upstairs until he saw me in the bar. “I wanted you to know I had a great evening.”

“Yeah, the best I've had in quite a while.” I could have kicked myself. What was it about him that made me say things I'd never admit to anyone, not even myself?

He lifted a hand and stroked the side of my neck, grazing my chin with his thumb. The touch was more intimate than anything he'd done to me upstairs.

A swell of nerves gathered in my gut. Was I enjoying his touch that much?

“I'm glad,” he said. “I must admit I haven't been to the club in a while. It far exceeded my expectations.”

I smiled at him before he dropped his hand and walked away.

I'd completely lost my mind.

I awoke the next morning hard as hell and pissed off.

I couldn't get them out of my head. I heard the grunts and moans, mine and theirs. Felt Matthew's tongue in my mouth. Heard Richard's groan as he came. Tasted his lips. Felt his dick slide in and out of me.

It was odd and disconcerting and hot as hell.

I pushed them out of my mind, threw back the sheet, and planted my feet on the bed. I grasped my dick in my hand and gave a few good strokes. It never took much to find my release.

Until then.

I bolted out of the bed and headed for the bathroom. The shower caddy had lube, and the heat of the water relaxed me in a way little else did.

The water turned tepid, and I still ran my hand over my dick.

The hot water in my cheap-ass apartment was for shit. There was never time for fancy jerk-off sessions. Normally that didn't bother me. I never had so much damn trouble getting off.

I concentrated on the slide of my hand and quickened the pace. I squeezed harder, ran my thumb over the tip, and jerked my hips. Finally, my body tightened, and I slapped the shower wall with my free hand as I came. I washed and got out before the water could go from cold to frigid.

Dressed and ready to focus on anything else, I headed for the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. My apartment was small. One bedroom with space for a bed and not much else, the bathroom, a kitchen that accommodated a three-legged folding table leaning against the wall, and a small living room I'd set up as an office, complete with a battered particle board desk that smelled like petrified glue. I poured a cup of coffee and took a seat at the desk. The folding chair creaked under my weight. The damn thing was bound to break, but it was the best of the set. It should last until I moved again.

The only other furniture in the room was a tattered, stained orange couch that smelled of sweat and dope and had too many places where the springs rubbed my ass. I hadn't bothered replacing it. I'd do as someone else did when I acquired it— leave it and the table and chairs for whoever rented the shithole apartment after me. I moved too much to care about the furniture I kept. I still had boxes of clothes and computer programming books stacked in the corner. I spent my money on what I had sitting on top of the desk— the computer and digital video equipment.