Carnal Compromise by Robin L. Rotham

business or Brent’s if I got laid. You both knew going into this that I don’t do commitment of any kind, and if I want to fuck someone else, I damn well will.
    “That being said,” he continued loudly when she tried to interrupt, “I didn’t get laid last night so you can both quit looking at me like I ran over your damn dog or something.”
    In fact, he’d had his shittiest night in years. While he was out trolling, one of the young locals he’d hooked up with a few years earlier, Evan something or other, had given him a hard hug and sat down next to him at the bar to renew their acquaintance. Though Joe had no intention of sleeping with the guy again, he’d shared a couple of friendly drinks with him. Then Evan had tried to talk him into another trip to the motel down the road and he hadn’t accepted Joe’s polite refusal with a smile. Instead, the fucker had gone into a full-scale tizzy, ranting about what a bastard Joe was.
    In no mood to humor anyone, Joe had stood up to leave and told him, “Hysterical shit like this is exactly why I don’t fuck gay guys anymore.”
    He’d gotten what he deserved for that crack. Evan took a swing at him, and though he’d managed to duck out of the way, Joe hadn’t been able to duck out of sight. He’d had to endure both wide-eyed scrutiny and narrow-eyed censure from dozens of men and women as he threw a couple of bills on the table and walked out. It wasn’t an experience he’d care to repeat.
    AJ wiped a face-sized circle on the inside of the foggy door and stared at him. “So why does Brent think you did?”
    “Because he made an assumption I didn’t bother to correct. It shouldn’t matter whether or not I got laid. It never has before.”
    “He’s never gone down on you before.”
    “And that’s supposed to change everything?”
    She stepped back to rinse the shampoo out of her hair and a flowery herb scent tinged the humid air. “Not everything. ” You moron. She didn’t say it but he heard it loud and clear in her tone.
    “It’s not supposed to change anything . It hasn’t with you,” he pointed out. “You’re only pissed off because Brent’s got his panties in a bunch.”
    “Yeah, Joe, I’d be the biggest idiot in town if I thought sex with me changed anything for you.” Her arid tone made him grind his teeth as she continued. “But I’m just your booty call. Brent’s your best friend, and if you value his friendship at all, you need to quit putting the moves on him or you’re going to ruin everything. Best friends can’t be casual fuck buddies, and I think you know that. It’s why you haven’t pushed him harder.”
    “Thank you for that brilliant analysis, Dr. Phil,” he said snidely.
    “Fuck you, Joe,” she fired back, cranking the water off and stepping out onto the bathmat. She scrubbed her head with a towel off the rack. “You need to apologize to Brent for walking out the way you did the other night and then leave him the hell alone. Or is your masculine pride so important to you that you’ll sacrifice years of friendship just so you can say you’ve fucked him?”
    “Fuck yourself, AJ,” he growled. “It’s not masculine pride that—”
    He caught his breath. Shit, what the hell was he saying? It was pride, wasn’t it? Brent Andersen had become a challenge he was determined to win—that was all there was to it, all there could ever be. That was why the idea of never fucking the man stuck in his craw so bad.
    AJ dried her back as she eyed him curiously. “Then what is it?”
    “Okay fine, it’s pride,” he said grudgingly, unable to keep his gaze from wandering down her lithe body. “I bow to your superior female powers of perception.”
    She snorted. “Liar.”
    Joe straightened away from the door frame. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
    “Nothing,” she muttered, looping the towel over the rack. “I’m sorry I ever brought it up.”
    She tried to brush past him, but he blocked the doorway