“Come back later!” Zane shouted.
But no porn flick would be asking: “Who is that?” in the background.
“What? No. What!” Roach stared at the wonky number hung on the surface in front of him, pricked by icy needles.
Zane had someone in there.
He pushed the door harder, shoving the bastard back by another few inches to create a gap big enough to peek inside.
A leg flashed somewhere in the background, and Roach forced his way in so rapidly the key he’d pulled out of the lock dropped to the carpet.
In the room lit up by the sparse light streaming through the colorful curtains stood a stranger. Quite tall, with red hair sprouting all over his chest, and already undressed to his boxer briefs.
Roach was so stunned he didn’t notice Zane before their bodies collided, and the impact sent him back into the cold.
The door locked again.
“Go away!” Zane cried, and judging by the weird ache spreading through Roach’s palm, he must have slammed his hand against something for good measure.
The muffled voices inside were just an indistinct buzz in Roach’s scorching brain. He slammed his fist against the door time and time again. “If you don’t open right now, I’m gonna fucking kill you!”
He didn’t even care if that meant he’d go six feet under as well. His fury could burn down the whole building, and he’d then piss on the ashes. It was as if his Zane had been replaced by a beast whose single purpose was to cause havoc in Roach’s life.
The window above opened, and a familiar head of pale dreadlocks popped out. “Do you ever fucking shut up?” Travis yelled, and Roach stepped back to get a look at the motherfucker.
He spread his arms. “You better go back to your fucking room!”
But it wasn’t Travis he was angry at. He’d been patient with Zane’s moods, he’d been discreet about his number problem, and always tried to take his feelings into account, but he wouldn’t stand for this. Not after Zane’s jealous outbursts, and his insistence on keeping the sex to their messed-up little twosome.
Zane had been a cruel menace, but he did have a soul, so Roach hadn’t expected this kind of betrayal from him. It hurt deep, like an icicle pushed straight into his heart.
Inside, Zane remained silent, ignoring him.
Roach was about to charge at the door and bulldoze the fucking hinges, but why waste a perfectly good door? He had a far better idea. He lit himself a cigarette and leaned against the wall just outside.
He’d wait. Make Zane think he was safe.
Zane was talking to the man inside, and as Roach inhaled the smoke again, he could sense the arousal that had plummeted before shimmering in him once more.
So he brought the burning tip of the cigarette down on his palm. The pain of it didn’t even make him hiss, but the yelp from inside had Roach smirk. So he did it again.
“Christ! Roach!” Zane yelled, but Roach no longer had any pity left for him and clenched his teeth as the burning hot tip made his skin sizzle. Something landed on the floor, and the door burst open as Zane stepped outside in just his sweatpants, nipples stiffening from the cold outside already. Fury made his eyes glow as he stared Roach’s way, holding on to his injured hand. “Stop!”
He was a terrible person. Ruthless, chaotic, and selfish. But Roach couldn’t get him out of his head regardless. Even now, when he came straight from the arms of another man, Zane was beautiful—messy hair, twisted mouth, and all.
Roach looked him straight in the eye, took another deep inhale of smoke to reignite the fire, then pressed the burning end to the middle of his bottom lip. He kept it there despite his eyes watering from the pain.
He would not stop until the redheaded motherfucker was out.
Zane let out a howl reminiscent of a hurting dog and sank to his hunches, hands tight on the lower half of his face. The other guy, the one Zane had invited to their room, burst outside, barefoot, his fly not yet up, and squeezed Zane’s shoulders.
“What the fuck? Did he hit you?” he asked, shooting daggers Roach’s way.
“Did I, Zane?” Roach cocked his head, fighting through the pain he’d caused them both. “No, I didn’t, but if you don’t get the fuck out of here, I’m gonna break some bone in your body. I just need to decide which one.”
“You should go,” Zane mumbled before the redhead could have answered. Defying Roach by avoiding his gaze altogether, Zane rose and faced his hook-up. “I’ll call you later.”
He would fucking not, but they didn’t need to argue about that right now. The ginger bastard gave Roach an uncertain glance and rushed into the room. He was back again within seconds with a bundle of fabric in his arms.