Chapter 33 – King #2
He tilts his head to the side and studies me before answering.
“Enough. And while I adore your possessive streak at times, it’s completely unnecessary.
This place is discreet, so yeah, I’ve been here plenty.
But if I avoided all the spots I’ve ever taken a guy, we’d have a pretty limited pool of places we could go. ”
“I don’t care that you brought guys here. I care if you brought Tommy here.” There it is. The thorn that’s been jabbing me in the side all night long.
He shakes his head. “I never needed to. We were both very open about our brief relationship.”
I recall. They were splashed all over the gossip columns for the short duration of their fling. I can’t help but compare our relationships. Theirs, open and easy—ours, the exact opposite.
“Tommy is a friend, and I should have told you he was an ex before springing tonight on you, but it was eight years ago. I don’t think of him like that. And there’s nothing between us, I swear.”
I recall the way Tommy looked at him earlier. The seductive tone of his voice when he invited Mason to that party. “He’d like there to be though.”
Mason shrugs. “I don’t know about that. But even if he does, I don’t. And I’m sorry if it made you feel uncomfortable.”
“It didn’t.”
He frowns, confused.
“He didn’t make me feel anything, but I hated that you introduced me as your friend.”
His frown deepens to a scowl. “But you said—”
“I know what I said, dammit. And I didn’t want to be outed in front of an A-lister and his entourage, but …” I scrub a hand over my face. “Fuck, it still hurt. And I know that’s completely irrational and all my own doing, but I still fucking hated it.”
He simply stares at me.
It doesn’t surprise me that he’s confused, because I am too.
I’m not ready to be out, but I do want everyone to know he belongs to me.
What kind of twisted logic is that? “I know it’s unfair, and I’m not blaming you for calling me your friend.
I’m just trying to be honest about how it made me feel. ”
He takes a slow sip of his Scotch. “And I do appreciate that. I would much prefer to introduce you as my boyfriend. Just say the fucking word.”
I swallow the thick knot in my throat. “I really enjoyed tonight, Mase. I loved sitting next to you in that theater and doing stuff normal couples do. But I hate that I couldn’t bring myself to touch you.
I hate how fucked up I am. I wish I could let it all go and be me, but I …
I fucking can’t.” I drop my head into my hands.
He pushes his chair back and crouches at my side, his hand on the back of my neck. “Hey,” he says softly. “It’s okay. You’ll get there when you’re ready.”
“What if I never get there?” My voice cracks.
“Then we’ll deal with it.”
“I want to be the kind of man you deserve. The kind of guy who doesn’t break into hives at the prospect of holding your hand in public.”
He stands, and I hear a few buttons clicking. The music changes to something with more bass. Immediately, I recognize the opening beats of “Boulevard of Broken Dreams”—a song we used to make out to in Mason’s bedroom.
“Have you ever danced with a guy, King?” Mason’s voice is dark and dangerous and sexy as fuck.
I look up at him. Is he serious? The look on his face tells me he is. “No.”
He grins. “There’s a first time for everything.”
“What, here?”
“I told you, nobody can see through the glass.” He holds his hand out to me.
“I’ve never danced, period. Not with a guy or a girl.”
“Then it’s definitely about time you tried. I’ll be gentle.” He winks, and it makes my dick twitch in my jeans.
Tentatively, I take his hand and allow him to pull me up. His arms snake around my waist, and he pulls me closer. “I don’t know what to do,” I admit.
“You can’t get it wrong, babe. Just do whatever feels right.”
It’s awkward, at least at first, but I grab his hips and concentrate on his hands on me, the way his hips grind against mine, the subtle sway of his body.
My pulse races from both anxiety and desire, my mouth dry.
But I move with him, and the awkwardness disappears, and all that’s left is me and him—two people who’ve known and loved each other so many times before that their muscles instinctively know how to do this.
Mason’s hand slides to the back of my neck. “You’re doing so well, mi rey.”
His lips brush mine, and he kisses me, slow and tender, matching the rhythm of our bodies as we sway to the music.
His free hand glides up my back, over my shoulder, and along my neck until he’s gently cupping my jaw, angling my face exactly where he wants me.
There’s no urgency to his movements or in mine as I let my hands roam his muscular back and ass.
Our tongues dance in a delicate tempo, exploring and adoring.
It feels like I’m seventeen again, and it’s fucking heaven.
We kiss and dance and kiss some more until we’re too breathless to continue.
He rests his forehead against mine. “Dancing with you might be my new favorite thing to do.”
I breathe him in. “Mine too. Tonight has been incredible. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He rubs the pad of his thumb over the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. “So was this your first date, Hotshot?”
“I thought this wasn’t a date. Just two friends catching a show and grabbing some food, right?”
He grins. “You kiss all your friends like that?”
I dust my lips over his again, feeling so much, yet still not enough. “I’ve never kissed anyone like that. Nobody but you.”
“Me neither.”
Our lips meet again, our tongues sliding together. We continue kissing and dancing for I don’t know how long, but songs begin and end, and we don’t stop. And I know that this is exactly what I want. What I deserve.
What we both deserve.
But I’m still not sure I’m brave enough to take it.