Mitch was able to breathe again when he saw the Admiral turn away and start walking down the cliff path. Obviously John had rejected the man’s overtures.
Flicking his gaze back to John, Mitch saw the guy open his car door and climb inside.
He’s going into Newquay to hook up with someone at a gay bar, the bear growled.
“Jesus, I’m losing it,” Mitch said, shaking his head.
Once John had driven away and Mitch could no longer sense the guy’s presence, rational thoughts began to populate his brain. It was too early for the bar to be open, and even if John fucked his way through every one of the bar’s patrons, it was none of Mitch’s concern; John was a free agent, nothing to do with him.
Mitch eased his fingers from their death grip of the top of the sofa. Looking down, he saw two sets of claw puncture marks on the leather. Must have partially changed. He was unable to recall the last time that had happened. “Yep, I’m definitely losing it.”
* * * *