HIDE: A DANGEROUS AFFAIR

SEVENTEEN

“Everyone, leave,” Wilson growled. “We need here.”

Without hesitation, the guards began to clear up the space, leaving Brandon with Wilson. Brandon took unsteady steps backward. He knew his man too well to realize that something was wrong, and the moment had taken a turn.

With a relaxed body and unwavering breath, “what is it, Wilson?” he asked. “Why are you mad?” As usual, he was able to guess what it was. “Wilson,” he cautiously said, “I didn’t mean to react like that. I’m just not used to being addressed like that, that’s all. . .”

“Is that right, Brandon t?” Wilson's voice was calm and smooth, reflecting none of the simmering furies inside.

Stepping toward him, Wilson lifted his hand and slowly traced his fingers over Brandon's jawline. “Would you prefer you're known as just Brandon? Perhaps you wish I hadn’t come back for you at all?”

His small eyes grow even larger. “No, of course not! I love it here—”

“Don’t lie to me.” The words come out cold and sharp as he dropped his hand. It infuriated him that he cared about that at all, that he let something as insignificant as Brandon’s reaction bother him. What did it matter if he loved him? It meant the world to him. Yes, that was part of his obsession with him.

“You're overreacting over some crap, Wilson,” Brandon pointed out, taking a step back. His face was pale in the dim light of the room, but his gaze was direct and unwavering as he stared at him. “We should be focused on important things rather than my innocent reaction of being addressed as your boyfriend. You know that I love you. But, . . . You.” His statement hung between them, stark and heavy. If Wilson were a different person, he would have ignored and looked away.

Brandon's words hurt him like a piercing bullet. Wilson didn't look away. He held his gaze. “Is that what you want? To remain anonymous? For us to love on the inside and act like nothing when out?” His anger was gone, replaced by a wave of disappointment. Taking a step toward him, he lifted his hand again and stroked the plush softness of his lower lip with his thumb. Her lips parted at his touch, and the hunger that he had been suppressing all day sharpened, clawing at his insides.

He wanted him. He wanted him, and he was going to take him. Thereafter, he would know who he truly belonged to.

Staring at the lust, anger, and love mixed in Wilson's eyes, Brandon fought the urge to back away. He should have been more careful. Yes, it was a feeling that caught him by surprise. But, why did he flinch? Wasn't he, his man? And, shouldn't such an accolade bring excitement to him?

That moment was all it took to transform Wilson from a laughing, teasing companion to a terrifying, unpredictable man. Brandon could feel the rapid beating of his pulse as his thumb caressed his lips, his touch gentle despite the darkness gleaming in his eyes. He didn’t seem upset by his reckless accusations; if anything, he looked calmer now, almost amused.

Brandon didn't expect this to be a prolonged issue. They were there to train instead of arguing and fighting over a mere reaction. Did he hurt him that much? Wilson always masked his reaction but didn't this time. There was no doubt Brandon cherished him.

Without saying another word, Wilson lowered his fingers and gripped his upper arm, leading him toward one of the wide wrestling mats near the wall. As they walk, Brandon caught a glimpse of the bulge in his shorts, and his breathing sped up from a combination of anxiety and involuntary desire.

Wilson intended to f**k him, right here and now, where anyone could walk in on them.

An uncomfortable mixture of lust and embarrassment made his skin burn. Logic told him that wasn't likely to be one of their more romantic encounters, but his body didn’t care. All it wanted was Wilson's c**k. It craved it.

To his surprise, Wilson didn’t fall on him right away. Instead, he released his arm and looked at him, his sensuous mouth twisted into a cold, slightly cruel smile. “Why don’t you show me what you learned in those self-defense classes of yours, my love?” he softly said. “Let’s see some of the moves they taught you.”

That was unexpected but arousing for Brandon. The way Wilson said it, how the words rolled out of his lips and freely flowed, made Brandon become hot and bothered. Why wouldn't he love this man? Even his words brought Brandon back to life more than anything has.

Brandon stared at him, his heart climbing into his throat as he realized what Wilson wanted. He wanted him to fight him, to resist—even though it wasn’t going to change the outcome. Even though it will only make him feel helpless and defeated when he lost.

“I am not fighting you. Why would you want me to?” he asked in desperation, trying to put off the inevitable. He knew Wilson was toying with him, but he wasn't ready to play that game with him. Not after everything that has occurred between them from last night leading up until now.

“Why not?” He began to circle Brandon, causing his anxiety to grow. “Isn’t that why you took those classes, so you could protect yourself from men like me? Men, who want to take you, to torture you?”

His breathing expedited further, adrenaline flooding his system as an involuntary fight-or-flight response kicked in. Instinctively, he turned, trying to keep him in sight at all times, as if he were a dangerous predator—because he was one right then. A beautiful, deadly predator who was intent on him as his prey.

“Go ahead, Brandon,” he murmured, stopping so that Brandon's back was against the wall. “Fight.”

“No.” He tried not to flinch when he reached for him, his hand closing around his wrist. “I’m not doing this, Wilson. Not like this.”

It wasn't a choice that Wilson gave Brandon. It was a challenge to either fight or get beaten.