Where Nerves End

hair. Not quite such disarming brown eyes.
But significantly more available and apparently quite gay, so it didnt even matter that he resembled Michael at this point. He was hot, he was willing, and he was here.
“So,” he said, “your place or mine?”
I licked my lips. “How about yours?”
“Lets go.”
    * * *
    I got home around ten the next morning. My shoulder hurt, but after a night like that, what didn’t hurt? That man was insatiable, and definitely knew what he was doing.
    By all rights, the itch should have been well scratched too. I had the kind of libido that craved sex whenever I could get it if I was in a relationship, but could go significantly longer periods when I was single. In theory, I should have been set for a while after last night.
    But I wasnt.
Id have been home earlier—I tried not to overstay my welcome with one-night stands—but Id driven around aimlessly for a while after leaving Rays place. Decided I needed coffee from a particular shop on the other side of town. Debated getting breakfast, but after driving clear down by the university to a restaurant I liked, realized I didnt feel like eating there after all.
When the clock on the dash said the coast was clear, that the man Id been thinking about all night in Rays bed had definitely left for work by now, I made my way home.
And there, in my driveway, was Michaels car. Fuck. Seriously?
Well, I couldnt drive around all day, and I did have a few things to get done before I went to work tonight, so I bit the bullet, parked, and went inside.
Michael looked up from rinsing out a tea mug as I dropped my keys on the counter, but he quickly turned back toward the sink.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning.” I poured myself a cup of coffee. “Shouldnt you be at work?”
“Its Thursday.” His tone was flat, bordering on terse. “No appointments on Thursdays or Saturdays, remember?”
“Oh, right.” And I knew that, didnt I? I must have. Wed lived together long enough, I should have picked up on the pattern, and maybe I did, but Id been so wound up and frustrated the last few days, it was no great shock it hadnt crossed my mind hed fucking be here when I came home this morning. So much for clearing my mind and relieving some tension.
Coffee in hand, I leaned against the counter. Might as well be friendly and sociable as long as we were both here.
I cradled my coffee in both hands, trying like hell to keep the stiffness in my shoulder from showing. Having him treat me at home was fine and good, but I was pretty sure Ray had left a few marks. Michael might not have noticed or given a fuck, but I would know, and that would be…awkward. So I moved slowly and carefully, willing myself to relax and not keep my left arm tucked against my side like I did when it hurt.
Michael kept his attention focused on his task, and while he did, I surreptitiously watched him. Something was definitely amiss here. No one lounged and relaxed like Michael did when he was home, not even when he was doing some work or on the verge of losing a game, but right now he stood ramrod straight. Jaw set, shoulders tight. His lips were pulled into a thin, taut line, and grooves between his eyebrows spoke of intense concentration.
Michael turned off the faucet and cleared his throat. “Well, Id better, um, get to the clinic. No appointments today, but Ive got some paperwork to catch up on. You know how it goes.”
Before I could even comment, he was gone, leaving me staring over my coffee cup at the empty kitchen.
I lowered the cup and slid my gaze toward the stairs. Floorboards above me creaked with movement, and my heart beat faster as something twisted below my ribs. Over and over in my mind, I watched him walk out. In a hurry to get somewhere? Or in a hurry to get away from somewhere? From someone?
I sipped my coffee just for something to do, but I didnt taste it.
What the hell just happened?

CHAPTER 11
    At three-thirty in the morning, it was lights out at Lights Out. All that remained of the music was the inevitable ringing in my ears. The bartenders had cleaned up and clocked out, the servers and bouncers were long gone, and all that was left was to lock the doors and get out.
    Another night, a few more drops in the coffers. It wasnt a bad night, actually. Decent turnout, liquor flowing the way it needed to; from the looks of the closing slips from the tills, Lights Out mightve even pulled a profit for a change.
    After I swung by the bank and dropped the cash in