I’d never been good at doing things halfway, and being with Lachlan was no different. In the blink of an eye, I’d gone from being a straight, commitment-phobic womanizer to being in a committed, monogamous gay relationship. We’d been practically inseparable since our fantastic weekend in Speyside.

Every morning when I woke up in his bed, I waited for the shame to hit, but it never did. Unfortunately, I wasn’t completely void of guilt. Lachlan was willing to keep our relationship on the down low a little while longer, but the wait had begun to gnaw at him again.

“Angus is throwing a big party on the twenty-first,” Lachlan said, tossing his mail on a small table in his foyer and passing me the engraved invitation.

You could say a lot about Angus Campbell—and I had—but there was no denying the man had style.

Angus and I had an interesting relationship. He knew about Lachlan’s and my relationship, but had promised to keep his mouth shut. The problem was, I wasn’t sure he could be trusted.

The first night I’d stayed the full night at Lachlan’s, I’d seen what my boyfriend my couldn’t: Angus was half in love with him, and more than a little bit envious of me.

My suspicions were confirmed a few weeks later when Angus stopped by unexpectedly, and while Lachlan had been in the kitchen fixing us drinks, Angus had drunkenly confessed he missed Lachlan’s cock now that I was in the picture.

I’d turned on my heels and marched straight to the toilet where I’d splashed my face with cold water until I thought I might drown. Only when my face returned to its normal color, did I rejoin Lachlan and Angus and finish my drink. For the rest of the night, I’d seriously debated doing physical harm to the man.

But because he was one of Lachlan’s closest friends, I’d learned to deal with him as best I could. That meant hanging out with him a few hours a week, or going to a gallery opening or some other event he hosted—and there were many. Lachlan and I were always careful to arrive separately and leave a few minutes apart so as not to arouse suspicion, a ridiculous juggling act we both loathed.

“Shit,” I said, handing the thick, embossed envelope back to him. “I have a match that day.”

“Home or away?”

“Home—against Cardiff.”

Lachlan tossed the invitation on the coffee table and dropped onto the sofa facing me. “Great; you can go then.”

I laughed and rolled my eyes. “You’ve seen me after a match. I’m knackered.”

“We’ll only stay for a few hours. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“Lachlan,” I groaned, dropping my head back against the sofa.

He might have fun at Angus’s party, but I’d spend the evening fending off women who were drunk, high, or both, while trying not to be obvious about who I really wanted to be with.

Not to mention having to watch Lachlan interact with men who were itching to fuck him.

It had come as a surprise, but being with him had brought out some very strong caveman-like tendencies I’d never had before.

The last time we’d gone to one of Angus’s shindigs, I’d had to bite down on my cheek to keep from snapping the skinny little neck of some fuckboy who wouldn’t leave Lachlan’s side all night long.

Lachlan’s fingers danced their way up my arm, and he tangled them in the wet strands of my hair. I leaned into his touch, loving the feel of his nails lightly scraping against my scalp.

“I know, Liam,” he answered, correctly interpreting my reluctance.

It didn’t take a mind reader to know what I was thinking. I’d already told him how much I hated watching those guys try to talk their way into his bed, and how it made me want to break something.

That conversation had ended in angry yelling and slamming doors—all because I’d forced him into the closet with me.

“The thing is, it’s a masquerade,” he explained, tossing his leg over me and to straddle my lap. Anchoring his palm against my neck, Lachlan pulled my face toward his until our foreheads rested against one another. “With a mask and a cape, no one will recognize you. We can go in the same car, and I can hold your hand whenever I want. We won’t have to pretend we barely know each other. And maybe you’ll even let me kiss you in a dark corner.”

He kissed me softly then, a sampling of how he’d kiss me in public if only I’d let him, and his eyes searched mine beseechingly. “Please, come to the party with me, Liam.”

I slid my arms around his middle and down his ass to settle in the pockets of his jeans. “How can I say no when you ask so nicely?”

“You mean it? You’ll come?”

His face lit up like a little boy who’s come downstairs on Christmas morning to find a tree full of presents waiting for him, and it nearly broke my heart to think I might disappoint him in the end.

Lachlan wasn’t needy, but I was coming to realize being in a relationship with me was more difficult than he’d anticipated. He’d finally found someone he wanted to share his life with—to call his own—and he wasn’t able to.

“I’ll try,” I answered.

It made me happy to do this for him, especially since the chance of us being outed at Angus’s party was negligible. Not that there wasn’t a risk of it happening, but our fancy dress would have us blending in with the crowd. Among hundreds of similarly dressed party-goers, Lachlan and I wouldn’t stand out or be remarkable in any way.

He flashed me a contented grin and dropped a quick, hard kiss on my mouth. Then, he hopped off my lap and headed toward the kitchen where he had a large pot of sauce simmering on the stove.

I stretched out on the sofa, propping my head against my palms so I could watch him cook. I didn’t think I’d ever tire of watching him in the kitchen. There was something so fucking sexy about a man who could take the most basic ingredients and turn it into a feast unlike anything you’d ever tasted. He’d completely flipped my relationship with food on its head. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had baked chicken and steamed veg for dinner.

“But just so we’re on the same page,” I called out, “I’m not making any promises. If I get my ass handed to me on the pitch that day, I’ll stay home, and you can fill me in on Angus’s shenanigans the next day.”

He turned to me, his brows drawn together. “I wouldn’t go without you.”

When I shrugged like it was no big deal, he turned back to the stove with a frown.

“Don’t be daft. You love Angus’s parties,” I said.

“I lo—” Lachlan paused abruptly and cleared his throat. “I like spending time with you more.

I pushed off the sofa and made my way across his flat to stand behind him. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I rested my chin on his shoulder. “I’ll try to make it,” I said, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and pulling his scent into my lungs, unable to get enough of the way he smelled.

It wasn’t any cologne he wore; it was just pure, warm male skin, and it was the sharpest aphrodisiac I knew.

Or maybe it was just Lachlan.

Setting his spoon aside, he turned in my embrace, and backed me up a few steps until my ass hit the island behind me.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” I said, pulling our hips together so he could feel how hard I was for him.

In the past, I’d have moved on by now, but I never tired of the feel of his hands on my body. He could give me a look, or say something dirty in his rumbling Scottish brogue, and I’d be raring to go.

He reached his hand between us and stroked the length of my thickening shaft.

After a few rough strokes, he pulled his hand away and took a few steps back. Scratching his fingers over his dark stubble, he said, “Shit, I forgot what I was going to ask you.”

I smirked and dropped my hand to the button of my jeans. “Sorry, can’t help with that, but I can think of other ways to occupy your mouth.”

He laughed, and the sound tugged at the muscles in my gut. His scent and his laugh were two of my biggest turn-ons.

“You’re a fucking fiend,” he said, looking down at the bulge in my jeans. “I let you suck me off in my kitchen that first time, and now it’s your favorite thing in the world.”

I yanked down my zipper and pulled my cock out. Fisting it, I gave it a good, hard tug. “What can I say? I’m like Pavlov’s fucking dog; I see white Carrera marble, and I’m instantly hard.”

“I hope it’s not just any white Carrera marble,” he said, placing his hand over mine. “I hope it’s only my marble that gets you hard.”

Together we jacked my cock until it was steel beneath both our fingers.

“Just yours,” I said, licking my lips, hungry for a taste of him.

While I’d grown up fantasizing about getting a blowjob from another guy, I’d been leery of the idea of sucking cock myself. But the truth was, I loved slipping Lachlan’s dick between my lips and taking him to the back of my throat. Just the idea of it had my mouth watering with anticipation.

“I don’t know what I want more right now,” I told him as he rubbed a bead of pre-cum over my crown with his thumb. “To drop to my knees and suck your cock, or to push you to yours so you can take mine.”

Wordlessly, he fell to his knees, and I propped my elbows on the marble behind me so I wouldn’t be tempted to touch him.

It turned out I could be a bit of a brute. Recently, I’d left bruises on the back of his neck from holding him against me until he gagged and tears leaked out his eyes. I’d been horrified when I’d seen those purple marks on his body the next day, but he’d worn them with pride.

With women, I’d never been rough—that was more Declan’s thing—but with Lachlan, I liked it hard and fast. Ironically, while Lachlan had never before looked for a dominating partner, he reveled in it. But even though he savored my marks, I tried not to make a habit of it.

I left bruised men in my wake on the pitch; I wasn’t sure I liked the evidence of my strength in my bedroom.

Liam licked a path over the vein on the underside of my cock, and then sucked my head between his lips. With his right hand, he cradled my balls and rolled them in his palm, the tip of his middle finger gently stroking over my perineum. When his finger continued its slow glide past that small, sensitive patch of skin, I sucked in a breath and dropped my chin to my chest.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, flicking his eyes up to mine.

I gritted my teeth and my torso flexed with each swipe of his finger. This was the first time Lachlan had touched me there, and his probing fingers had me thinking and feeling things I never thought I would. If letting him fuck me felt even half as good as the teasing strokes he delivered now, I would bend over and happily beg for it.

“Why didn’t you tell me it felt like this?” I breathed as he massaged me in small, tight circles.

He chuckled, and then licked my cock with the broad, flat end of his tongue. “Can you take more?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, dragging his hands from my body and dropping back onto his haunches.

The loss of his touch allowed me a moment to recalibrate, to make a clear, level-headed decision that wasn’t driven by my all-consuming lust for him.

My eyes flicked between his, searching for validation.

His lips twisted to the side in a small, wry smile. “It’s your call, Liam. Whatever you want, I’m game for.”

Whatever I wanted.

If we did this, there was no going back.

And yet, what would I be going back to? A life where I ignored my most basic biological needs? One where I pretended to be someone I wasn’t? A life where I was too afraid to act on these desires?

What kind of fucking life was that?

I already knew the answer to those questions. It was the life I’d had before moving to Edinburgh, and I never wanted to go back to that lonely, half-lived place again.

I caressed his cheek, my decision made. “I want you inside of me.”