Chapter Seven
Keston
I paced the sidewalk in front of Bailey’s brownstone, wondering if the fact that he wasn’t home was a sign that I should bounce while I could.
What the hell was I doing, getting involved with one of Grady’s friends?
A guy who probably never missed a credit card payment and was on a first-name basis with his dry cleaner.
A lawyer, for Christ’s sake, with expensive body wash in his shower. Not my kind of guy at all.
So why was I here? Why did I want to see him so damn badly?
He made me laugh, set my body humming with pleasure.
And after our talk at the Cloisters, I’d felt this connection to him like no one else—since Carlos.
I raked my hand through my hair. Three times now I’d have seen him.
This was a bad idea. I should leave. I should—
“Keston?”
I turned toward the street and watched as Bailey stepped out of a car.
Damn, he looked edible. No suit and tie today for Bailey the Lawyer.
Dark, messy hair falling over his brow, jaw covered by stubble, and the biggest, bluest eyes behind a sexy pair of black-framed glasses I hadn’t seen him wear before.
I liked it. As quickly as ice cream in the hot sun, all my misgivings about another night with him melted away.
“Hey, Bailey.”
“You looked about to bolt. Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I could skip dinner and go right to dessert. “Wanna go inside?”
The look he gave me indicated that he wasn’t on the same track. “I thought we were gonna have something to eat. First.” His smile spoke of hot, sweaty sheets in my future.
“Okay, well, you know this neighborhood. I never come up here.”
“Follow me to Columbus. Lots of places there.”
Side by side, we walked down the leafy street, dodging couples wheeling babies or walking their furry designer dogs. I stuck my hands into my pockets.
“What made you want to live all the way up here?” It was nice, I’d give him that. A hell of a lot less crowded than the East Village and with a family vibe I couldn’t really relate to.
“Why? Am I geographically undesirable because I live above Thirty-fourth Street?”
“I never said you were undesirable.”
“Just my location. I did offer to meet you at your shop. Any reason you said no?”
Plenty, but none I was willing to mention if I still wanted to get laid tonight. “I like seeing how the other half lives.” I knocked his shoulder so he’d know I was teasing. “And your bed’s a lot comfier than mine.”
“Mmm, yeah. Okay. Well, we can do burgers, sushi, Italian…you pick.”
“How about pizza?”
“Sure. Right here.” We stopped in front of Motorino.
“Didn’t know they had a place up here. I go to the one by me in the East Village.” I opened the door. “I’ll grab a table.”
“What kind of pie do you want?” Bailey waited on the short line. “And what do you want to drink?”
“I’m pretty easy—pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms. I’m fine with any or all of it. And water’s good.”
“I’m a sausage man myself.” Bailey winked. Corny as his joke was, my lips twitched, and I sat, admiring his ass as he placed the order. He returned to the table with two waters. “Here. It’ll be a little while.” He clasped his hands around the bottle. “How was business today? Lots of people?”
Small talk was one of my least favorite things to do, but considering I’d asked him for help with Inktastic, he had that right. Bailey waited, face expectant, as if he were interested in me and what I had to say.
“Funnily enough, yeah.” Instead of brushing him off, I thought about my answer. “I told Jodi about your suggestions, and at lunch she ran out and bought one of those folding boards, you know? She made a new-client-special sign and put it outside the shop.”
“Great idea.”
Encouraged, I nodded. “I thought so. I got a mom who came after brunch with her girlfriends and a few tourists stopping by who wanted a memento of their trip to the city. So thanks.”
“My pleasure.” He chugged some water. “What’s this month’s most popular design?”
I grinned. “Believe it or not, it’s Mom written inside a heart. Corny, huh?”
The twinkle in his blue eyes died, and I wondered why. “Yeah. Really corny.”
“I spoke to Jodi about setting up a social media profile, and she said she could do it, no problem.”
Bailey brightened. “That’s great. Between that and some local advertising, I bet you’ll turn your problems around.”
“Yeah. I hope so.”
He turned silent, and I didn’t push. The counter guy called out, “Bailey. Sausage pie.” He didn’t jump up, so I decided to leave him be and get the pizza myself.
Back at the table, he gave me a halfhearted smile. “Sorry.”
“No problem. Let’s eat.”
I ate my slice with short, quick bites, chewing and swallowing without tasting much. The second went down the same while Bailey still worked on his first. I picked up my third, and Bailey put a hand over mine.
“Hey, chill out. We have all night.”
My instinct was to snap at him to mind his own fucking business. But remembering the therapy Grady and I had taken together when we’d first met and the tools it had given me to deal with hurt and abandonment, I curbed my anger. “Yeah. Sure.”
He didn’t know—how could he? A foster child couldn’t be certain they would have a hot meal or a bed to sleep in every night.
Life was lived on a wing and a prayer. I’d learned to take what I wanted as soon as it was in front of me, otherwise someone else would.
But I sat and drank my water, watching Bailey catch up.
“I’m full. You still gonna eat that?” He tipped his head toward my plate, and I realized I hadn’t eaten the third slice.
And didn’t want to. Maybe Bailey was right, and I should slow down and taste my food.
I liked watching him eat. The way his tongue licked his lips, picking up stray crumbs and a bit of sauce.
How his eyelids fluttered with appreciation of how good the pizza tasted.
I raised a brow and returned the slice to the pie tray. “No. Not now. Maybe later.”
“Much later.” His grin sent a throb of desire through me. “After.” He rose to his feet. “I’ll get a box to take it home with us.”
Home. Funny how that word had never had meaning to me until I met Carlos. And then it was all taken away, and I knew it wasn’t meant for someone like me.
“Keston?”
Bailey waited, and I gathered up the plates and dumped them into the trash.
“Let’s go.”
We walked out, Bailey holding the box, and somehow my arm ended up around his shoulders. The street was even more crowded now, and a guy decked out in designer logos blocked us from moving forward. Before we could step past him, he kissed Bailey.
“Baby, what’s shaking? How’s it goin’?” Appreciative brown eyes raked me from head to toe. “I’m thinkin’ good.”
“Marco. It’s been a while.” No welcome vibes from Bailey, I noticed. He’d turned stiff—and not in a good way.
“I’m having a party tonight. Maybe you and your friend would like to come.”
“I don’t think so, Marco, but thanks anyway.” His gaze flicked to me, and I could see he wanted to leave. Desperately.
“Ready to go?” I rumbled. “It’s gonna get cold if we don’t eat it soon.”
“See you.” Bailey pulled me along, and we left Marco standing on the sidewalk. “Fucking asshole,” he grumbled as he pulled out the keys to the front door.
Amused but curious, I followed him up to the second floor of the brownstone and into his apartment. “What was that about?”
Bailey shrugged and set the pizza box on the kitchen counter. “Just a guy. Nothing special.”
“Not what it looked like to me. He got to you. Old boyfriend?”
“I don’t have boyfriends.” Bailey pulled out a beer from the fridge and held it up in question. I nodded, and he handed it to me, then crossed the shining wooden floors to sit on the sectional in the living room.
“No? You look like the type.”
Bailey’s brows drew together. “What does that mean?”
I set my beer bottle on the coffee table and crawled across the sofa to him. “Do you really wanna talk? Or…”
Bailey grabbed my T-shirt at the collar and twisted his fingers in the fabric, pulling me to him. “I like the or much, much better,” he murmured against my mouth and kissed me.
I sat and pulled him close, our lips still locked together. “Mmm. Me too. This is all I could think about. You on top of me. Me inside you.”
“I’d like that. I must confess I wasn’t sure I’d see you again after last night.” Thick dark lashes swept down on his cheeks.
Damn, he was sharp. I couldn’t even say why I’d texted him—except I’d wanted to see his face.
“Yet here I am.”
A crooked grin kicked up his lips. “Yeah. Here you are. In the flesh.” He leaned in and settled his lips on mine.
That position gave me a chance to run my hands over his broad shoulders and back.
Bailey rocked his pelvis into mine while plunging his tongue past my lips.
I sucked hard, the need to possess this man growing by the second.
“So fucking hot, Bailey. I watched you eat that pizza, and you almost made me come in my pants.”
He reached between us and squeezed our dicks. My head spun, and my cock throbbed, painfully hard and swollen.
“Let’s go.”
I yanked him up with me, and we tore off our clothes. What the hell was happening that every time I got near this man, I had to have him? He took off his glasses and vivid blue eyes watched me as I stroked my shaft.
“You are so beautiful.”
Compliments rolled off me. I didn’t need them.
I’d heard them all my life, and I knew they were given easily to get me in the sack.
But Bailey’s made me self-conscious, and I wanted to change the subject.
I hovered above him and dipped my head to bite at his nipples.
Our hard cocks brushed together. “What do you like?”
His hand slipped around my neck. “You. I like you.”
I reached for the condom and lube, when Bailey’s phone buzzed. I hesitated. “Need to get that?”
“Fuck it,” he rasped. “In me. Now.”
The phone stopped and started again. It kept ringing.