Looking over my shoulder, I saw Brian arguing with Wayne, who was dressed in a snug white, sweaty tank top that clung to his well-formed chest, with black leather pants and boots completing his attire, his hair slicked back. He reminded me a bit of…well, Matt Bomer in Magic Mike.
Fuck. Me.
I set the can down on the table before I dropped it, and bolted to the other side of the rink, hoping I hadn’t been spotted. Seeing him like this…I was going to wring Marco’s neck. I now understood the smug smirk he’d had on his face right until we’d arrived at the event.
I needed to breathe, get a chance to clear my head, but before I could even make it to the door, a hand on my arm brought me to a halt. I stared into eyes that were burned in my memory, gray and soft and penetrating. Wayne’s vulnerab
