Chapter Two
DAMMIT. LATER that evening, Daniel followed Olivia up the walkway of an excessive home in the posh but downright arrogant Central West End of St. Louis.
“Well, hello.” A shirtless guy with dark statement eyebrows and lavender hair spilled his martini as he answered the door. He shrugged a beach towel over his shoulders and frowned. “Yikes. You guys know it’s a pool party, right? You’re a little formal.”
“We’re with After the Pumpkin,” Olivia proudly announced. “Eric hired us.”
“The what?” The guy cocked his head. “What pumpkin? What happens after it?”
Olivia’s eye twitched, but she continued, “Yeah, is Eric here?”
“He’s floating around somewhere….” The guy trailed off as his gaze snagged on Daniel’s lips. Then torso. Then crotch. “Ooh, he’s gonna love you.”
Daniel sucked his lower lip, darting his eyes to the side. “Okay?”
“Eric!” the guy squawked. “Your staff is here.”
After a loud whump from inside, a drunken cruise ship captain, or presumably Eric, circled the corner and tossed an arm around the other guy. “My whaaa—? Ahh!” His laughter jiggled his body. “I forgot I hired you guys.”
“I’m sorry we’re a little late,” Olivia said. “Hopefully, you still need us?”
“Well, yeah. It’s still a party, baby,” Eric said with a wink, a shimmy, and a bawdy Mae West inflection that stopped existing after the 1920s. “The more the merrier. Go find the caterers. They’ll tell you what they need.”
Daniel started to follow Olivia into the kitchen, but Eric snagged him by the elbow and asked under his breath, “Hey, what’s your deal?”
He studied the man’s tan-in-a-bottle face. “My deal?”
“Yeah, name your price. ”
Daniel opened his mouth and closed it again as his eyes narrowed to a squint. Had they accidentally wandered onto a spy movie set? “Come again?”
“Your price, boy.” Eric worked his hands in agitation like Daniel’s answer should’ve progressed by now. “What is it? How much to take your shirt off and go stand over there with the others?”
He scanned the living room for the shirtless others to no avail. “I’m sorry, but the other what?”
“Eric!” someone yelled.
“Coming, my sweet.” Eric whirled toward the stairs and pointed a finger back at him. “Think about it. Come find me later. I’ll be in the sauna. Not the steam—the infrared.”
That storm of confusion fizzled just as quickly as it brewed when Olivia grabbed his hand and yanked him to her side. She giggled and pointed to a recessed living room off the kitchen. “Look.”
Above the fireplace hung a portrait of Eric and Lavender Hair Boy. Naked. Fearless. Surrounded by puggles.
A grin twitched his lips. “The dream, though.”
She sighed wistfully and rested her head on his shoulder. “The dream.”
The party consisted mostly of older men, all puff-bellied, white-bearded, and oily-skinned. They slipped in and out of the pool like seals, only bobbing up to cackle or take a sip of something spritzy from a cocktail glass.
Daniel strolled around, filling waters, gathering empty champagne flutes, doing his best to avoid eye contact so no one would ask him questions he didn’t have the answers to. Questions like Where’s the bathroom? or Do those meatballs contain pork? or What are you doing? Do you know what you’re doing, Daniel?
He did not know what he was doing, as all he’d ever done was dance, then study about dance, then dance some more, but at least he didn’t shatter any of the plates that a mother-daughter team of caterers kept stocked with canapés or toothpick-speared meatballs no one ate. (Because they contained pork? Because they didn’t?)
“Daniel,” Olivia hissed from where she stood behind the bar outside, surrounded by blinking sugar-skull string lights. Her eyes were all wide and insisting as she beckoned him over.
“Yes, ma’am, how can I help you?” He brushed off his apron and checked his pants for grime. “You want a mysterious meatball? Maybe pork? Maybe not? Hey, this party is weird, by the way. Everyone’s either twenty or literally mummified—there is no in-between—and I just saw an adult man doing a whip-it. Like, when does the Grateful Dead start playing?”
“I need you to cover for me.” Olivia clutched her phone to her chest. “It’s Puddles.”
“Olivia.” Daniel fortified himself with a breath, then firmed his glare. “Let the cat die.”
Her mouth fell open as her shocked voice barely escaped. “ Whaaa ? I can’t believe you would say that. It’s not his time.”
“It is his time. That’s why the kitty doctor said it was his time.”
“Wow, Daniel.” She squinted, nodding. “No, mewow . Glad to know you and the kitty doctor are both cold-hearted thugs—”
“The cat has a brain tumor, and that’s like the least of its worries. He’s miserable, he wants to go, and you artificially keep him alive with your medication .”
“Why do you say medication like allegedly that’s what it is? That’s what it is! And he won’t let my roommate give it to him, so I have to go.”
“No!” A meatball rolled from his tray as he grabbed her arm. “Dude, you can’t leave me here.”
“I’ll be back in half an hour, tops. You’ll be fine. But you need to work the bar. That’s more important than”—she waved a hand around his person—“whatever you’re doing.”
He blinked hard. “Oh, now it’s ‘whatever I’m doing’? When earlier, it was imperative that I come and be incandescent for all.”
“You’re practically ablaze, you’re so glowy. Now, come stand back here.” She shuffled him behind the bar by his shoulders. “That’s all you have to do.”
Panic started to bloom as his eyes darted around the bar for anything that looked recognizable. “But. But I don’t know how to make drinks. What if someone asks for a mojito? Aren’t there things to be muddled? I don’t know how to muddle.”
“No one’s asking for a mojito,” she scoffed. “Well, they might. You should learn how to make those. Sounds refreshing.”
“Please don’t go—”
“Daniel.” Olivia gasped and pointed a shaky finger past his shoulder. “Look. ”
He flinched but squashed the urge to spin around, because they had not wandered onto the set of a spy movie, and there was nothing exciting to see behind him. “You know that doesn’t actually work in real life.”
But her eyes stayed wide as she continued to gape. “I cannot believe—what is she doing here? She’s, like, really famous.”
“I’m not turning around so you can ditch me.”
“This is insane.” Olivia started toward what was surely not anyone famous. “Let’s go get her autograph.”
Daniel finally whipped around as Olivia’s footsteps vanished in the opposite direction. With a sigh at himself and a grimace at her back as she fled, he knelt on the ground to orient himself with the items of the bar.
“Oh, you’re so dewy, Daniel,” he muttered as he angrily sorted bottles of gin. “You’re just aglow. A smoldering lust for life. Come out and spread your radiance. Well, here we are. Not one person has complimented my fucking dewiness!”
“Are we supposed to be complimenting your dewiness?” asked a voice from above. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get the memo.”
Daniel’s anger transformed to shock when he laid eyes on the creature from which that voice hailed. The creature who stood tall like a lighthouse among a sea of mummies with his icy blue irises and dark chocolate hair and ever just a touch of amber honey to his skin.
Daniel straightened in slow motion. Or he rose , rather, as if by tractor beam, with his eyes rounded and dick awakened, to gawk at the guy. The guy who was probably used to that sort of thing—people gawking. Paparazzi following him to the important places he went to speak to the important people about what stock did whatever it was that stocks did.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Did you need to finish your conversation?” The elegant stranger combed a hand through his hair, lifting his shirt just enough to display Herculean stomach muscles. “With yourself?”
“Hmm?” Daniel salivated like a St. Bernard, struggling to peel his eyes from his belly. “No, I can help you with your desires.” No! Gawd . He shook his head. “With your beverage desires, that is. Err, needs . Err, order!” Even his organs cringed. “How can I help you?”
The guy’s lips curled in amusement. “Well, I could really use a drink if you catch my drift.”
“Ahh.” He struggled to unglue his gaze from the guy’s mouth. “Rough night, huh? ”
“A little,” said the Adonis. The incisors of his pretty smile bit down on his lower lip in a way that could make a boy suddenly wish he were a tooth. “But I’m not one to complain about things getting rough.”
Daniel had a mini stroke, but he made a full recovery. He should really respond to all of these comments like an adult instead of a horny teenaged Neanderthal. “Well, you’re in luck, because this is a bar.” Then, a little less convincing: “And I am a bartender.”
“I can see that.” He leaned on his elbow and propped his chin in his hand. “So then, how about you make me anything you please. Bartender.”
Pleazzz. The way he said it had to have been intentional. It melted into the space between them, all blood-warm and buttery. It hardly registered that Daniel had also leaned over the bar, but in his defense, beverage options were less important than sudden uncharted fantasies about what it might be like to touch this tall, dark, and foxy person’s large hand. Or muscular shoulder. Or the toned chest that peeked from under his deep-V-cut shirt.
Did the Adonis probably think this staring contest was a bit much? Daniel smiled like a rum-drunk idiot. Did it matter?
He inched his hand across the bar a little. He let his pinky wander closer. It wasn’t like him to be so emboldened, but he did it. He touched him.
The guy broke their eye contact to glance down at their mingling pinkies.
Then reality slammed into Daniel hard enough to shock his spine straight. “Apologies for that!” he said way too loudly, causing a few heads to whirl around. God, he was sweating. “Allow me to get right on that drink.”
Hands on his hips, he spun on his heels to face the opposite direction. It was too bad he didn’t think that plan through, because now he was faced with an empty wall and, against it, a single potted pygmy palm.
Instead of doing anything else—like making a drink, any drink—he doubled down and studied the plant like it was something remarkable and not a fucking plant. Get it together. Get. It. Together. Are you really losing your whole-ass sanity right now?
“Are you okay?”
“I am.” Daniel spun back around without looking at the guy. He could be charming. He could. Give him a damn minute .
He took a breath and surveyed the items of the bar. Neon red cherries, something called sloe gin, and a ceramic dish of either salt, sugar, or cocaine—who could be sure?—all sat around, being intimidating.
“Okay.” He nodded and held up a bottle of vodka. “I have theee drink for you. See this? Well, my specialty happens to be pouring it into a vessel. Like so.” Warm vodka glugged into a plastic cup. “Then, this? I pour it on top.” Warm sour mix slopped over the sides.
The Adonis pursed his lips. “That’s your specialty ?”
“Correct.”
“What do you call it?”
“Don’t ask questions.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“No, that’s the name of the drink—” He dared a dishy smile. “—but apology accepted.”
The guy laughed, looking a whole lot like a matador who could tame a bull with a wink, and Daniel’s ego moonwalked across the stage.
“Now, do you want me to add the secret ingredient?” He arched an eyebrow, invigorated. “Or are you not feeling that adventurous?”
The matador’s icy eyes sparkled with his smile. Now they were getting somewhere. “Can’t wait to see this.”
Daniel dropped in a cherry. It flumped to the bottom.
“Innovative.”
“Hugely.” He then sprinkled in a dash of sugar. Or cocaine.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Oh, and one more thing. Can’t forget this—”
“Yeah, I wonder if we shouldn’t stop there?”
Daniel pulled a bucket from the freezer and splashed in two ice cubes with an awkward pair of mini tongs he couldn’t quite grasp. He slid the drink across the bar with a wink. “Gives it a little extra something between you and me. Enjoy.”
The guy gazed at him, then down at the cocktail. It started sweating too. “So, is bartending your life’s passion?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“I’m Aaron.” He extended his hand. “What’s your name, handsome?”
Handsome. Daniel bit his lip and took his hand, but before he could answer, “I’m Daniel, and I’m really adventurous in bed,” the bottom fell out of the moment when an older guy with ultraplatinum hair squeezed Aaron in a hug from behind .
Aaron jerked his hand away from Daniel’s touch.
“There you are,” the guy said in a British accent that sounded like it just crawled out of the River Thames, still sopping wet and covered in muck. He nuzzled into Aaron’s neck. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Dressed in black satin capris and loafers with oversized gold emblems, the guy looked like the runner-up in a contest of Who Can Look the Richest? The most obnoxious piece of his outfit (a metallic yellow jacket as bright as the surface of the sun and just as painful to stare at) snugged his lanky frame, twisting and swathing, studded with too many buttons to count.
With his fantasy tugged from under him, Daniel had to stifle a scowl at the guy. And the urge to chuck a meatball at his face.
“Come,” he said, taking Aaron’s hand. “There’s someone dying to meet you.”
That jacket. Daniel needed somewhere to direct his totally justified hatred. So… yellow.
“I’ll be right there.” Aaron wiggled his hand free from Yellow Jacket’s. “Give me a second.”
“We don’t have a second.” The guy took his arm. “People are waiting—”
“We do. We do have a second.” Aaron peeled him off and flashed his gaze to Daniel. “I just want to enjoy this drink. It was made with such flair.”
Daniel’s heart did a little squiggle.
“I don’t give a shit if it was made with holy water. It’s not your job to stand here drinking it. Come on .”
Aaron’s eyes sharpened on the other guy’s. He suddenly looked a touch threatening as he stood taller, peering down at him.
“Um. Apologies, kitten.” Yellow Jacket’s smile had quickly turned contrite. “People are excited to see you, is all. Can you blame them?”
Daniel could. Daniel could totally blame them all day and night.
“I, for one, still get excited to see you.” Yellow Jacket closed his eyes and puckered his lips toward Aaron, a cartoon princess waiting for a smooch.
Aaron looked to Daniel. Daniel looked to Aaron. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t what happened next.
Without breaking their eye contact and wearing a sexy, sexy half-grin, Aaron leaned in and pressed his lips to the other man’s.
Daniel couldn’t help but stare while his scalp, suddenly impossibly hot, started to itch. But watching two people kiss was creepy, so he skirted his gaze to the ground. He chanced a peek after a few moments, when any normal kiss would’ve stopped being a thing, to find Aaron was still staring. And still kissing.
“Uhh,” he said to the ground, smiling politely. “If you’ll excuse me? I’ll just—I’ll be right back.” He slid off his apron and scanned the patio for signs of authority that would probably prefer he didn’t take a break. When no one looked in-charge enough, he rushed inside, around a corner, and into the chest of a topless dude with a bowl of popcorn.
“ Gugh ,” the guy shrieked as it clanged to the floor. “Hey, watch where you’re going!”
“Oh no.” Daniel dropped to his hands and knees and scrambled to gather the pieces, but they’d scattered everywhere. “I am so sorry.”
The guy bounced a little like he was trying to refrain from yelling.
“I can make you some more,” he offered. “Just, er—if you show me where it is.”
“We worked on this, Stevie,” Stevie said to himself in a meditative voice as he exhaled, long and slow. “You’re not angry. You’re just hungry.”
Yikes. Daniel crawled to retrieve kernels from under a table. “I really am sorry.”
“Okay, my bad.” Stevie lowered to the floor. “I didn’t mean to yell or whatever. I’m ravenous I’m so hungry. Do you have any gum?”
“What’s that? Gum?” Daniel tapped his pockets. “No, but I saw some mints over there on the counter.”
“I can’t have mints. I’m fasting.”
“Ahh, I do that too. Not on purpose.” Daniel collected the last of the popcorn. “I’m just poor.”
The guy nodded, but his attention had been captivated by his phone. His thumbs tapped at warp speed over the screen. “That must suck.”
“It really does. So hey, can I ask you a question? See that guy over there?” He tried to nonchalantly point to Aaron with his entire hand, which looked like a strange dance move. “What’s his deal?”
Stevie didn’t look up. “Which one?”
“The one that looks like the statue of David. But Greekier.”
He squinted at the group of men surrounding Aaron. “Who?”
“Right there .” He tried to point with his head, which ended up looking like an even sillier dance move. “The foxy one in the blue V-neck.”
Back to the phone. “If he’s wearing a shirt, he’s an attorney and an asshole. ”
Daniel frowned as he gazed at Aaron. “Really?”
“Yes. They’re all attorneys.” The guy inspected his hair with his phone’s camera. “And they’re all assholes.”
“He seemed nice.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. That’s why I’m about to serve them floor popcorn.” He stood and dusted himself off. “Because they’re nice .”
He strolled off, and Daniel tried to send Aaron a telepathic message not to eat the floor popcorn, but he didn’t get it. He was too busy shaking hands, flashing teeth, and forgetting about their encounter altogether.
Daniel rolled his head to the side and hummed to himself as one sad little snort escaped from some sad little place from within. Oh to be so entranced by a stranger with a boyfriend. And who did he have to thank for the overactive imagination for thinking someone who looked like that guy would ever be interested in him?
Down the hallway he found the bathroom, where he locked himself inside and met his own big caramel-colored eyes in the mirror. Someone like him can have whoever he wants. He dropped his chin to his chest. He was no matador.
AARON TONGUED the corner of his mouth and pressed up to his toes to see where the little guy went. Precious. Extraordinarily precious with the dusky brown curls and the pouty crimson lips that looked like he’d spent the past couple of hours sucking on hard candy.
He was a nervy little thing. Nervy in tongue and yet fluid in movement with those delicate fingers and quicksilver curtseys and shoulder squirms. It sure seemed like he could use some soothing . Someone to shush him sweetly with a few whispered exchanges.
It sure seemed like he could use someone to take the lead.
He’d never seen him at one of these parties, which could mean nothing, or it could mean a lot. Maybe he was new to the scene? Maybe he was just a guy trying to make money. Like everyone else.
“Who are you going home with?” Stevie suddenly stood by his side, fake-smiling at the group of men before them. “Tweedle-dee over there looks fun. Oh, but then how could I resist Tweedle-fucking-dum?”
“I came here with Corey,” Aaron said, reaching for a handful of popcorn. “I should probably leave with him—”
“No.” Stevie smacked his hand away. “Trust me. ”
Aaron swiped his palms together and scanned the crowd for the little bartender. “Hey, you see where the sexy guy went? Did he leave?”
Stevie grimaced as he extracted a long hair from the popcorn. “There are no sexy guys here.”
“No, not one of them.”
“Oh, one of us?” Stevie squinted. “There are no new us that I know of.”
“I don’t think he’s one of us either. About yea tall.” He flattened a palm next to Stevie’s ear. “Skinny. Super funny in a clever way, and he’s got this….” He trailed off as he gestured vaguely over Stevie’s face. “Mouth.”
“Oh, the clumsy guy? Like, real skinny?” Stevie tipped his chin toward the house. “Check inside. Be mindful as you take corners.”
Yeah, it was just about getting inside, which was easier said than done. Aaron smiled graciously as he began his descent into the lion’s den, skirting a few tugs on his arms and the beginnings of “conversations.” Mostly Where do you think you’re going, young man? And Leaving so soon? No, you don’t. Come here. Come here, come here, come here. There’s someone dying to meet you.
Free at last, he snuck inside and checked the sunken living room with the incredible curved sheepskin sectional he would someday own, then checked the kitchen with the extrawide champagne-colored refrigerator he would also be sure to own. Once he had enough money. He swung around a corner and—
“Where do you think you’re going?” Corey asked in his royal-pain-in-the-ass British accent, always manifesting at the worst possible time. “You’re leaving with me, yes? You ready?”
“I am.” He managed a patient smile. “I can’t wait. Two minutes to hit the bathroom, and I’ll meet you at your car.”
Corey’s lips curled sheepishly. “My apologies about earlier, love. For losing my patience. Can you forgive me?”
“Absolutely. No worries.” He gently squeezed his arm as he stepped past him. “Excuse me—”
“Wrong direction. I believe your bartender is in the bathroom down that hall.”
Aaron whirled around, then halted. He preferred to keep the borders of his worlds way more defined. Clients stayed in one world. Cute bartenders stayed in another. But he’d known Corey for years, so for the sake of courtesy, he scrunched his face and smiled as he dropped his head. “That obvious? ”
Corey looked a hint sentimental as he melted into a sigh. “Christ, you are so beautiful. What it must be like to be twentysomething and catching your eye. I dread the day someone catches it for good.”
Aaron swallowed and forced his smile wider. “I’m all yours tonight.”
“Mm-hmm, I’ll give you five minutes with him, and the clock is ticking, so better hurry.” Corey winked back on his stroll toward the door. “Then you are all mine.”
“YOU ARE an ass cork,” Daniel whispered to himself as he furiously prodded at his curls in the bathroom mirror. “Even if Aaron was interested—which he’s not—where’s it gonna go? You have a boyfriend. Ass cork.”
He rolled his sleeves and picked lint off his pants in a huff. His mom, that earth angel, had always said in her charming Midwestern way that wearing black made him look terribly underfed, sweetie. Are you sure you’re eating? But in black’s defense, everything made him look terribly underfed. Everything also made him look too pale. He had that bright-light-at-the-end-of-a-tunnel kind of skin tone that didn’t work with a lot of outfit color choices.
“So I’m near-death pale. Does it look like I care ?” he asked in an aggressive, mock-British accent. “Yellow Jacket—ha! At least I’m not an asshole. Well.” He cut his eyes to the side. “At least I’m not always an asshole. God, what’s he doing with that guy? He could do so much better. Like me. Me who is not always an asshole—”
“Can I come in?” a voice asked from outside the door.
Daniel froze.
“I just need a second of your time.”
He recognized that voice. It was Aaron’s.
“I wanted to ask you something,” Aaron continued. “Can you let me in, please?”
Daniel stood motionless, stuck in a game of Simon Says where a sadistic Simon had told him to freeze and not let the fetching matador into the bathroom.
“ Pleazzz ?” There it was again—a soft, sensual, coaxing way of saying that word that cradled around his earlobe like a warm little hug.
Daniel defrosted, checked his hair once more, and opened the door .
Aaron peeked around the hallway, then stepped inside. His lips curled into a smirk as he leaned back against the door. “Hi.”
Dear heavens alive. Icy blue, dark chocolate, and amber honey—it was all so… appetizing. “Hi.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have much time,” Aaron said.
“Oh, are you dying? Or do you just have to get back to the future?”
“I have to leave the party, smart-ass,” Aaron chuckled as he dug his phone from his pocket. “Can I have your number? I’d like to take you out on a date.”
Daniel gasped as he slapped his hands to his heart. “You want to take me out?”
Aaron nodded down at his phone, swiping it open. “Here, put your number in.”
“You want my number?” Daniel’s voice had gotten ridiculously high-pitched. He bounced on his heels a bit. “To take me out on a date?”
The way Aaron stared, it was as if that answer were obvious. “Yes.”
“ Yes! Or, no.” Sorrow instantly washed over him. “God, I would love to. I would genuinely love to go on a date with you, what with you looking like a literal matador and all.”
Confusion twitched Aaron’s features, but he recovered with a soft smile. “Thank you?”
“But I have a boyfriend.” It came out sounding way more disappointed than it probably should have. It was, in part, that term. They probably shouldn’t have had that “boyfriend” discussion while Daniel was high on wisdom-tooth premedication, but live and let live. “And you. You clearly have a—” He struggled to summon the right word. “— spirited British person.”
Aaron grinned, the sexy one from earlier when he shared a kiss with his spirited British person. “Fuck your boyfriend. Or is that part not very enjoyable?”
Daniel erupted in an accidental laugh, then slapped a hand over his mouth. Is it that obvious? “That information is confidential.”
“What’s his name?” Aaron asked. “Chester?”
“You’re going with Chester as your first guess?”
“Give me your number. Chester will get over it. He’s seen this coming for a long time. ”
Daniel couldn’t help his belly flipping like a two-timing floozy. He chewed his thumbnail. “Chest—er, Nate would, well, yes. He’d get over it. But it would make him sad.”
“Aw, sad ol’ Nort.”
“Nate.”
Aaron prowled nearer. “One date is all I’m asking.”
Daniel leaned away and braced the sink. “Well, I would, but I have a—”
“A boyfriend? Yeah, you mentioned that.” Aaron eased nearer. “But what happens when you’re with him later tonight, staring into space like you guys do? Eating leftover clam chowder, you know, like you do.”
“Why would we be eating…?” He squinted. “What—?”
“And you can’t help but think about me?” Aaron stepped closer still, grinning like a man confident Daniel would be thinking about him. “What then?”
Daniel gulped as he tangoed backward. As Aaron followed. “I don’t know.”
“Hadn’t thought that far?”
“Hadn’t had time.”
His back hit the wall, and Aaron leaned into him, his hands framing either side of his head. Without a hint of modesty, he said, “Break up with him.”
Daniel would’ve stumbled backward if he had anywhere to go. “ What ?”
“You heard me.”
“I did. But.” Well. He didn’t have a very good response, did he?
“I’d like to take you out. You have a boyfriend. So break up with him.”
Then, there they stood. Chests nearly grazing. Breath sizzling. Daniel’s back against the wall. Physically and metaphorically.
“Well,” Aaron sighed after a moment. He shrugged and pushed himself backward, swiping his hands together. “I tried. I have to go.”
Daniel blinked rapidly. Oh. Oh no. No, no, no. He grabbed Aaron’s arm as he started to twist away. “Wait—”
Slam. Daniel’s body hit the wall. Thunk. A painting of a sunflower hit the floor. Aaron cupped his face and crushed their lips together .
His eyes widened, then rolled shut, then widened again as he palmed Aaron’s chest, but any protesting nonsense for the sake of playing it a lot cooler than this got buried somewhere deep, somewhere beautiful inside Aaron’s expert mouth, in a casket right next to the wherewithal to change a single detail about the moment.
Dearly beloved, what a moment it was.
Aaron demanded as much as he gave, and he ventured a calculated risk as a firm hand gripped Daniel’s jaw and another pinned his wrist against the tile. He couldn’t move. He didn’t want to move. Could he not live here for a night or two? Pooled into this near-stranger’s arms, letting this near-stranger’s tongue transgress his boundaries, which were either asleep at the wheel or drunk in the cheap seats and rooting them on.
Aaron’s hands on Daniel’s ass, his mouth on his lips—it was all too feral to be happening in the first place. Too fucking wet to lend a passing worry. And despite being nailed against a wall like a secret lover Aaron was running out of time to consume, Daniel somehow felt… treasured? Yes, he would go on that date. Yes, he would gladly give it up before the appetizers arrived. If ever there’d been a time when he’d been handled with such vehemence, with such shocking intuition, whoever it was just got demoted to second place.
The cold tile behind his back began to contrast against the boiling point of magma below his waist, and Aaron chose that moment to sink his teeth into Daniel’s neck, steamrolling right over the question How far do I let this go? Insisting the only answer was Someone lock the goddamn door.
Then, as wild as it started, it slowed just as gradually when Aaron transitioned into these measured, fairy-tale kisses that softly peppered Daniel’s temple, across his chin, and down to his chest. He smoothed Daniel’s collar, locked their gazes, and said in a husky whisper, “Thank you. That was fun.”
Daniel blinked.
Fun. Said matter-of-factly. Said like the last few minutes had simply been on Aaron’s to-do list. His fun quota for the night.
“You’ll break up with him now?” Aaron asked.
He nodded.
“Cool.” Aaron offered his phone and repeated, sans the question mark, “Your number. ”
“My phone—my telephone. Number. Yes.” Daniel cleared his throat and tried to will his face less frazzled. He nearly dropped the phone, he was shaking so much.
“Go ahead and put the name in as Hard to Get ,” Aaron said, peering over his shoulder. “So I know how to find you.”
“Seriously?” Daniel gazed up at him hopelessly. “ That was hard to get?”
Aaron tipped his head side to side. “Somewhat.”
“Jesus, what’s easy? You: Nice to meet you. Divorce your husband. Him: Done. ”
“Once or twice.”
Daniel slapped his arm and typed the name as:
hARd TO gET OvEr (poor chester)
The way Aaron grinned down at his phone, it was as if he’d just scored a new baseball card. “What’s your real name, sweetheart?”
“Daniel.”
“Daniel what?”
“Greene.”
Aaron lifted Daniel’s hand to his lips in the old-fashioned gesture of a gentleman and kissed it. “I’ll see you soon, Daniel Greene Hard-to-Get-Over-Poor-Chester.”
“The Third.”
“Just so you know, that was the worst drink I’ve ever tasted.” He swirled a thumb over Daniel’s palm, stretching their arms long on his way toward the door. “I’d order ten if it meant I got to watch you make them.”
Without another word, the matador was gone.