Chapter Ten
Bailey
Shocked by that one word, I tried to make light of it. “Is that a demand, or are you asking me?” I’d already prepared for his withdrawal.
He wasn’t smiling. “Does it matter?” His fingertips played with the ends of my hair and trailed along my jaw. “Stay. Please.”
My throat tight, I nodded. “Okay,” I whispered.
“Let’s take a shower.” He left the bed, giving me an eyeful of taut ass and muscled thighs before disappearing into the bathroom.
I followed him, and we stood under the spray.
A wet and soapy Keston was the stuff of fantasies, and I couldn’t stop myself from massaging the suds on his muscled shoulders and arms.
Only moments ago, I’d been nearly comatose from my orgasm, but one touch from Keston and my dick twitched with interest.
“Down, boy,” I muttered, and Keston chuckled as he poured more of the cool-scented soap into his palm and rubbed it on my chest and stomach.
“Not the fancy brand you’re used to.”
I let it pass. In the little time we’d spent together, it was obvious Keston had made major assumptions about me, but I wasn’t here for deep, meaningful conversation. He’d made it clear we were fuck buddies, and if I wanted him, I had to be content with that.
And boy, did I want him, so I kept my mouth shut.
“Sorry about the scratches.” I ran my fingers over the marks I’d left on his skin, then trailed them to the tattoo on his left biceps. “I recognize the infinity sign, but what’s the significance of the two birds?”
“I like birds.” Water dripped from his stony face, and I believed him like I believed in Santa Claus.
“And the sun on the other arm? What do they all signify?”
Without giving me an answer, he pushed me against the tiled wall, crushing his lips to mine. I let him use my mouth, giving him whatever he demanded because it was what I desired too.
When he backed off, I touched my puffy lips, managing a grin. “You’ll have to try harder. That’s not going to stop me from talking.”
With a roll of his eyes, Keston turned off the water, took two towels, and handed me one. “Dry off. I don’t like wet sheets.”
By the time I’d finished, he’d gotten into bed and was staring at the ceiling, hands folded behind his head. I crawled in next to him, and in a night filled with surprises, Keston had another one for me. He wrapped his arm around me and held me close.
“Good night,” I whispered.
“Night.”
I closed my eyes, letting the solid beat of his heart lull me to sleep.
**
I awoke to the pale light of dawn filtering through the curtains.
At some point during the night, Keston had rolled away from me into a tight ball, and he still slept, huddled under the covers.
That gave me a chance to check out the room, and color me shocked to find dark wood, expensive furniture, and drawings on the wall I could tell were original.
I slipped out of bed, put on some clothes and padded out of the bedroom to the living area.
The whole apartment had obviously been decorated by someone with a creative bent.
A comfortable sectional dominated the living room, but I couldn’t help but be drawn to the modern, state-of-the-art kitchen with an expensive espresso machine on the white quartz counter.
From my days as a barista, I could figure out how to use it, so I made a triple espresso, found milk in the fridge, and poured myself a latte.
“Very impressive.”
I turned to face Keston and almost dropped my precious coffee. Messy hair, stubbled cheeks, and naked except for a pair of tight black briefs, Keston could replace coffee as my wake-up in the morning.
Chill, Bailey. He’s for now, not forever.
“Want one? Lattes are my specialty, but I can make anything you like.”
“I bet you can, but I’m good with regular coffee, Barista Boy.”
“Coming right up,” I said, ignoring the dig, and made him what he asked for.
“No milk, right? You like it black.”
“Nice of you to remember.” I handed it to him and watched his throat bob as he swallowed.
I remember everything about you.
“You’re working today?” It was hard to concentrate with him standing there in all his delicious, half-naked glory, so I breezed past him to sit on the couch.
“Yeah. Shop opens at noon.” He finished and rinsed his cup. “What happened to those glasses you wear?”
“Contacts.” Was he trying to change the subject of seeing me again?
“I was thinking we could have breakfast. I saw a little diner down Second Avenue.” Did I sound desperate?
I didn’t think so, but I wanted to hold on to him today for as long as I could because like the wind, I couldn’t tell when Keston would blow back into my life.
“I don’t usually have breakfast.”
“Well, I do, so you can watch me eat pancakes. Come on, get dressed and I’ll treat you to another cup of coffee. I can’t guarantee it’ll be as good as mine, but the company will be stellar.”
I washed my cup and set it by his in the sink. As I crossed the room, he caught me by the wrist. I waited for him to say something, but he continued to gaze at me with those penetrating blue eyes.
“Don’t worry.” I patted his cheek. “I’m not the clingy type. I know what we’re doing here. I’m not looking for Mr. Right. Just Mr. Right Now.”
Damn, I’m a good liar.
We walked to the diner and found a booth. I ordered my pancakes, and Keston made do with coffee.
“Don’t you know breakfast is the most important meal of the day?” I poured maple syrup on my stack, cut a chunk, and held it out to him. “Open wide for Bailey.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Is this how all you guys on the Upper West Side date?”
“No, only me, you lucky dog,” I said lightly, not allowing his disdain to dampen my good mood. I’d had great sex again with the best-looking guy I’d ever met and had spent an unexpected night with him. “I can’t eat all these by myself. As it is, I’ll have to do a double workout today.”
“Or you can just meet me tonight.” He raised a brow, and I met it with an answering grin and a happy bounce of my heart.
“In that case, forget the pancakes. They’re all mine.” I turned the fork around to shove the pancakes into my mouth, but he grabbed my wrist.
“Are you retracting your offer?”
That lazy smile did something to my insides, and my breath caught.
“Are you accepting it? If you say yes, it’s a binding contract. Remember? That’s the law.”
“All this legal talk is making me hard.”
That husky rasp made me want to call for a doggie bag and go back to his place for a quickie, and from the gleam in his eye, it seemed Keston had the same idea.
“Keston?”
A woman’s voice interrupted my dirty fantasy of a Nutella-and-syrup drizzled Keston.
“Hey, Jodi.” Keston released me as if burned and flattened himself against the booth, putting as much distance between us as he could.
A bright face peered down. I recognized her as the tattoo artist I’d seen at Keston’s shop. I could pinpoint the moment when she remembered me as her brows shot up.
“Hey, aren’t you the guy who came in without an appointment?”
“In the flesh.”
Keston cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “I’ll be there in a few, Jodi. We were just finishing here.”
Her bright-pink lips curved upward. “Really? It kinda looked like you were about to start something.” Pretty brown eyes danced with mischief.
I snickered, and Keston glared at me. “What?” I asked him, pretending innocence. “I can’t help it if I’m memorable.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Keston grumbled as Jodi and I laughed at him.
“I’m Bailey, by the way.”
“Jodi, as you already heard. How did you two meet? I know Keston’s not on any of those dating apps.”
“Jo,” Keston warned, his color high, but I was having way too much fun.
“I’m fr—”
“At a club,” Keston cut me off, and I narrowed my eyes at him but kept my mouth shut. Obviously, he wanted to keep our connection a secret.
“Cool. Well, I’ll leave you two alone to finish, and I’ll see ya at the shop, Keston, whenever you get there. Bye, Bailey. Nice to meetcha.”
“Same, Jodi.”
Keston slid out the booth like his ass was on fire. “Hold up, Jodi. I’ll come with you. Bye,” he threw over his shoulder, and I had to admit I was a little annoyed at being left so abruptly.
Through the large windows, I watched Jodi and Keston walk down the block, Jodi chattering away. Knowing Keston worked, I hadn’t expected to spend the day together, but I was hoping maybe dinner and the promised after-dessert activities would come to fruition.
There you go again. Wishing and hoping for a guy who isn’t just scared of commitment, he runs like hell from it.
I called for the check and paid it, then decided to walk around the neighborhood a little.
The East Village had sure changed since I went to school.
It always had a grungy vibe, but now little upscale indicators had crept in.
Gone were the old T-shirt and bong shops.
No more beloved CBGB. Trendy little boutiques and chain bubble tea and coffee shops had replaced almost all of them.
I took a walk along the “Mosaic Trail”—St. Mark’s lampposts were covered with bits of broken tile and pottery, creating a mosaic of street names, punk and rock bands, plus the Museum of the American Gangster, famed East Village mobster Lucky Luciano, and the blackout of 2003.
I stopped on Astor Place at the lamppost dedicated to the 9/11 First Responders and located the NYPD tiles.
Their sharp edges had worn smooth over the years, but the colors remained vibrant.
Tears stung my eyes, recalling how my father had insisted he’d beat the lung disease he’d contracted while working on the pile after the towers collapsed.
We’d always planned to visit the museum and his old precinct, only half a mile from where the towers stood, but his health had declined rapidly and he’d became bedridden, slowly withering away.