“Lani, this is Dylan,” Aidan introduced. “He’s staying with me this week.” He turned to Dylan. “Lani just moved here from Honolulu.”
“Hawaiian, huh?” He offered her a warm smile. “How are you liking San Diego?”
“It’s beautiful. And the people are so nice.” Her dark eyes twinkled in Aidan’s direction.
Dylan noticed the remnants of the couple’s dinner on the glass table across the room—plates, beer bottles, candlewicks releasing wisps of smoke as if they’d just been put out.
“I should probably get out of your hair,” he said ruefully. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your date.”
But neither Aidan nor Lani acted as if his presence inconvenienced them. In fact, the beautiful Hawaiian just smiled again and said, “You can stay if you want. Have a beer with us.”
Indecision flashed through him. Shit. He wanted to stay. He wanted to have a beer with them. But if he did, he knew exactly where this would all lead—straight to the bedroom. And while normally he wouldn’t bat an eye at the notion of a threesome, indulging with this particular man probably wasn’t the most intelligent move. After his reaction to Aidan the other night, he was a touch worried that he might not be able to control himself if they somehow wound up naked together.
“It’s a tempting offer, but I’m gonna have to pass,” he told them. “I have to make a few phone calls—my older brother just got engaged. And I need to be up at dawn tomorrow, so I can’t stay up late tonight.”
Was that a glimmer of disappointment he saw in Aidan’s eyes?
Naah, wishful thinking, maybe.
“Well, make yourself at home.” Aidan joined Lani on the leather couch and slung one muscular arm over her slender shoulder. “You need a ride tomorrow morning?”
“No, that’s cool. Cash is picking me up.”
He bid them good night and headed for the guest room, where he dropped his duffel on the hardwood floor and released a ragged breath. After a beat, he dug his phone from his pocket and sank on the double bed in the middle of the room. The bedframe was a dark oak, the mattress a perfect combination of hard and soft. Dylan made himself comfortable as he dialed his mom’s number.
She picked up on the second ring, sounding delighted to hear from him. “Honey! Did you get my message?” Shanna Wade chirped.
An indulgent smile crossed his mouth. “That’s why I’m calling. So, you’re pretty stoked about this engagement, huh?”
“I’m thrilled about it! Claire is going to make your brother such a wonderful wife.”
He held back a snort.
“Beautiful, smart, successful. And that girl is so very sweet,” Shanna babbled on. “Did I tell you she came by with chicken noodle soup when I was sick last week?”
Yeah, probably because she had an ulterior motive of some sort, Dylan almost replied. He also didn’t mention that he suspected Claire had zero respect for his mom, which she’d broadcasted loud and clear during that last visit by scoffing at Dylan’s insistence that “homemaker” absolutely counted as a real job. Shanna Wade had been a stay-at-home wife and mother for more than half of Dylan’s life, but clearly Claire McKinley didn’t think that counted as work.
“Claire’s a real sweetheart, all right,” he said lightly, hoping his mom wouldn’t pick up on the distaste in his voice.
“Your brother told me you’ve agreed to be his best man.”
“I did. I’m looking forward to it. I’ve never planned a bachelor party before…”
“Dylan Wade, don’t you dare get your brother a stripper!” Shanna said in outrage.
He laughed. “Relax, Mom. I won’t.” Naah, he definitely wouldn’t get a stripper. More like many strippers. But his mother didn’t need to know that.
As his mom continued to chat about the upcoming wedding, Dylan got distracted by the sound of muffled footsteps in the hall, followed by a door opening and closing. When he heard soft feminine laughter and a low male murmur, he realized that for all the pomp and circumstance of this condo, the walls were pretty thin.
It wasn’t until twenty minutes later, after he’d hung up with his mom and was getting ready to crash, that he realized just how thin those damn walls were.
Thump-thump-thump.
Thump-thump-thump.
Thump-thump-thump.
The unmistakable rhythm of a headboard banging against the wall sent an ambush of raunchy images to his brain. Aidan was probably working Lani over real good—his trim hips pistoning, ass flexing with each deep thrust. Or maybe Lani was doing some riding, impaled on Aidan’s cock, her long fingernails digging into Aidan’s sculpted abdomen.
Saliva pooled in Dylan’s mouth. He nearly groaned out loud. Managed to swallow the agonized sound, but controlling the erection that sprang up was impossible. It was official. Coming here had been a bad idea. A really, really bad idea.
But there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He’d already given up his room to Miranda; he’d be a total ass if he suddenly demanded it back. And if he went home anyway and tried to sleep on the couch, there was no doubt in his mind that Miranda would drag him back to his room and revert to bunking on that tiny bed with her kids.
So going home was not an option. He supposed he could crash at Jackson’s place in Imperial Beach, but hopping from one guest room to another seemed kind of ridiculous. Might as well suck it up and stay here at Aidan’s place.