“Merely an observation.”
“What is it about men like me? Actually, forget that. What is a ‘man like me’?”
“A fast worker.”
“Good God, Kit. It doesn’t take six months to work out whether or not you fancy someone. I mean, you’re socially inept, grumpy, selfish and a workaholic loner, but you’re pretty easy on the eye, you know?”
“You’re…”
He lifted his eyebrows.
“A straight talker.”
“It’s the only straight thing about me.”
I turned my laughter into a brief clearing of my throat. “I worked that out.”
“Observant chap, aren’t you?”
“Bit of a giveaway when you made a move on me on your first night here.”
“That? You call that a move? Nah, that was a clumsy attempt at a kiss made even more clumsy by you acting like you’d never been that close to another man before.”
“Been a while.”
“How long?”
“Embarrassingly long.”
“You’re probably a bit rusty, then. I mean, if you thought what happened in the bathroom was me making a move on you…”
“It wasn’t? I’d love to know what you…” My voice trailed away as I caught his eye, my face heating under his gaze. Busted.
“Oh, would you, now?” He took a step forward and my entire body wanted to back off but my feet just. Wouldn’t. Move.
“Steven, this really isn’t a good idea.”
“Why are you here, then? You could have just crossed the hall and gone to bed.”
“We live together.”
“We share a house. That’s not quite the same thing. And the lease is only valid for another six months, so…” He shrugged and it was only when he stood a breath away from me that I rediscovered the power to move. Trouble was, I followed his lead like it was a dance with the final move being a left one-two, right one-two, and Kit’s back hits the wall.
“This is only your first night here.”
“Would you prefer I waited ‘til tomorrow instead?”
“No—”
“The weekend?”
“Steven. You’re not helping.”
He laughed. “Okay, then tell me what the problem is.”
I opened my mouth to speak but the way he inclined his head, eyebrows raised, eyes widened, taunted me.
“Don’t tell me. We live together, it’s my first night, things could get awkward, blah, blah, blah,” he singsonged, nodding his head in a mocking parody of someone dropping off to sleep.
“It’s true, though. And anyway, why would you? I mean, if I’m as grumpy and standoffish as you say, why would you even bother?” I knew I sounded like I was fishing for compliments and maybe I was, but the curiosity was genuine, at least. I just didn’t get it. This didn’t happen. Not to me. Not with men like him. I got the dregs, the leftovers, the bastards and the drunks. Not the gorgeous, confident, not-clinically-insane guys like Steven.
“I also said you were easy on the eye, so why the hell not?”
“I hardly know you.”
“My name’s Steven Kenton. I’m twenty-nine years old. I’m gay, and I’ve got my hand on your cock. What else do you need to know?”
“No you— fuck.” I groaned when he laid his hand over my erection, expecting him to laugh at my surprise, but his eyes clouded over. Only his arm, his hand, separated us and I thanked God the wall was at my back—nothing else would have kept me upright at that point.
“Okay, so it’s through your jeans, but we’ll soon remedy that.”
“This.” I took a deep breath and inhaled whatever it was about him that melted my resistance to nothing. “This won’t end well.”
“Are you kidding me? A Kenton hand-job is the stuff of legend. This will have a very happy ending for both of us.”
I gulped so hard my throat hurt. “No, really. This won’t end well—”
His hand tightened just enough to stop me speaking and he leaned in so close I could almost, almost, almost taste his skin. I could have counted the flecks of stubble shadowing his jaw if I’d had any presence of mind left. “You don’t have much faith in me, do you?” he murmured and I wanted to tell him, stop talking, stop talking, stop talking. Just shut the fuck up and kiss me. It’ll be so much better this time. No. Don’t.
“I don’t have much faith in myself,” was all I managed to whisper in reply before, thank God, he did kiss me. And, Jesus, he tasted of beer and coffee and the smoke we’d made him stand at the window to indulge in, and gum. I’d kissed guys who were all about the tongue, but tonsil rockets did nothing for me. The way Steven took his time made me want it even more and when he finally did use the tip of his tongue to draw mine into his mouth, I could have come then and there.
“So.” He drew back just enough to draw breath—an ability for which I envied him; I sure as hell couldn’t—and licked his lips. That alone made the kiss seem even hotter in retrospect. “What did you mean by a ‘man like me’ anyway?”
I gave a short, quiet burst of nervous laughter. “Put it this way—I didn’t think you’d do any of this. It’s usually the way of things that I end up with guys who have been touched by the simple stick, or who lean a bit too heavy on the beer. You seem neither of those.”
“Fucking hell, Kit, don’t go overboard with the compliments. You’ll make my head spin.”
“I’m just saying, those are the kinds of guys I…” Damn it, Steven, why the hell do I keep losing my train of thought when you’re around? “That’s just the way of it.”
“I can understand that. If you’re saying you end up with alkies and morons, I’m just saying I get that. I understand it. A guy would have to be either off his face or clinically insane to think he stood a chance with you, wouldn’t he?”
If Steven Kenton’s presence
