Jordan.
The name slipped through Matt’s mind like a knifethrough warm butter. He sat up to shake it away and noticed theteddy bear he’d been holding onto when it rolled from his arm. Fora full minute he stared at the bear—it was a variegated blue, itsfuzzy fur mixed with white, with black beads for eyes and a satinyblue ribbon around its neck. No silken heart held in its hands,thank God, but still. Matt picked it up, a smirk on his facesomewhere between annoyed and amused. Didn’t he tell Vic no damnstuffed animals?
But then an image came to mind—Vic stopping at a gasstation after work, or a convenience store on his lunch break. Atsome time in the recent past he’d stood at a counter, an imposingfigure, with his shaved head, thick arms, angry tattoos. Thecashier wouldn’t have dared meet his fierce gaze; hell, sheprobably tried not to touch his hand when taking his money, andprayed nothing set him off before he got out of line. Then what, hesaw the bear sitting on the counter? Picked it up, bought it on awhim? Matt grinned to imagine what must’ve gone through thecashier’s mind when Vic asked her to ring the bear up, too.
Had he been saving it for Christmas, maybe? Or togive to Matt at some point as a joke? Matt pictured Vic slippingfrom bed to retrieve the bear from its hiding place, then guidingit into Matt’s arms while he slept. Did he clutch at it? Had Vicstood there and watched him cuddle the bear to his chest?
For some reason that thought turned Matt on more thanhe wanted to admit.
The thing with bears had been a childish fetish,nothing more. But Vic watching him as he slept, perhaps brushinghis fingers through Matt’s thick curls or trailing a tender handdown Matt’s back, that made him feel…
It made him feel loved.
Slipping off the bed, Matt placed the bear againsthis pillow, then pulled the covers up to its feet as if tucking itin. Let Vic have his laugh. Matt would laugh last when he made hislover hold the bear the next time they had sex.
At that thought, Matt felt a familiar stirringin his groin. Stretching as he stood, he glanced down over hischest, across the flat planes of his stomach, to the thatch of darkhair kinked at his crotch. His ruddy dick peeked from the cloud ofhair, inquisitive, as if it heard someone say, “Sex.” Matt’s bloodbegan to stir, racing through his veins and reigniting his headacheas it picked up speed. A pulse began to beat in his head, justabove his right eye.
No, he wasn’t feeling quite that good yet.With a firm hand, Matt pushed his cock down to point at the groundand tried to curb his lustful thoughts.
He noticed a pair of his pants laying on the floor athis feet. He’d worn them to Kyle’s party—the memory of thatdisaster was like a bucket of ice water dumped over the flames ofhis arousal. God, if he never saw or heard from Jordanagain, it’d be too soon.
Bending to pick up the pants, Matt noticed the emptyholster where his cell phone usually hung from his belt. Withoutthinking, he reached for his hip as if to assure himself the phonewas there—it wasn’t of course; he slept in the nude. But the phoneshould’ve been on his belt.
It wasn’t on his bedside table, or Vic’s. Squattingdown, Matt rummaged through the pockets of his pants, which jingledwith change and keys, but his phone wasn’t hidden in their depths.A search of his back pockets turned up his wallet and nothingelse.
Had he dropped the phone? Maybe last night, whileundressing?
Matt shook the rest of the clothing, but his phonedidn’t fall from the folds of fabric. He scrambled through Vic’sjeans, digging into the pockets, thinking maybe his lover hadpicked it up, but it wasn’t there either. Damn it.
Next, he ran a hand under his bedside table, then asfar under the bed as he could reach. Nothing. That phone was prettypricey; Matt had a bad memory for phone numbers, and the ones hehad to know were programmed in that phone. Vic’s cell, though itwas out of commission at the moment. His parents’ numbers, both athome and at their beach house in Key West. The gym number, and thepeople on his swim team. He also used the notepad feature to storethe PIN numbers to his bank accounts. Stupid yes, and if someonegot hold of the phone and his wallet…
He patted down his pants again to assure himself thewallet was safe. He even flipped it open to make sure his ATM cardswere inside. So just the phone was missing. Where the hell could itbe?
With his pants in one hand as he thumbed through hiswallet with the other, Matt drifted from the bedroom down the hall.“Vic?” he called out. Music played softly on the stereo in theliving room. As he passed the kitchen, he heard the steady chopchop chop of a knife on a cutting board and stopped in thedoorway. “Where—”
“Jesus!” Vic swore amid the sudden clattering ofmetal.
Matt glanced up from the wallet to find his loverstanding by the sink, sucking his thumb. The wooden handle of alarge kitchen knife poked from the stainless steel sink. A spot ofbright blood flecked the front of his white tank top and for asecond Matt thought more blood splattered the countertop. Fearbloomed in his chest. “Oh, my God,” he started, crossing thekitchen before he realized Vic had been cutting tomatoes. “Are youall right?”
Vic tried to frown at his nicked thumb, but his gazekept sliding down Matt’s naked body to
