Lover Mine

around the guy. “It’s raining.”

“Is it.”

God, that voice. Saxton’s words were as smooth and delicious as the cigar.

Blay switched his legs around, crossing them at the knee.

As he searched his brain for something to kill the silence, it looked as if no-shit-Sherlock comments about the weather were as close to inspired as he was going to get. The thing was, the end of the date was starting to loom, and whereas he’d learned that he and Saxton both mourned the loss of Dominick Dunne and were fans of Miles Davis, he didn’t know what he was going to do when it came to parting ways.

Would it be a case of Call and we’ll do this again? Or the infinitely more complicated, messy, and pleasurable, Yes, as a matter of fact, I will come over and look at your etchings.

To which his conscience compelled him to add: Even though I’ve never done this with a guy before, and in spite of the fact that anyone but Qhuinn is going to be a poor man’s substitute for the real thing.

“When was the last time you were out on a date, Blaylock?”

“I...” Blay took a long draw on the cigar. “It’s been a long time.”

“Whatever have you been doing with yourself? All work, no play?”

“Something like that.” Okay, unrequited love wasn’t exactly in either of those categories, although the no-play was certainly covered.

Saxton smiled a little. “I was glad you called me. And a bit surprised.”

“Why?”>

“My cousin has a certain... territorial response to you.”

Blay turned his cigar around and stared at the glowing tip. “I think you vastly overread his interest.”

“And I think you’re politely telling me to mind my own business, aren’t you.”

“There’s no business to mind there.” Blay smiled up at the waiter as the guy put two port glasses down on the round table and backed away. “Trust me.”

“You know, Qhuinn’s an interesting character.” Saxton reached out with an elegant hand and picked up his port. “He’s one of my favorite cousins, actually. His nonconformity is admirable and he’s survived things that would crush a lesser male. Don’t know that being in love with him would be easy, however.”

Blay didn’t go near that one. “So do you come here often?”

Saxton laughed, his pale eyes glinting. “Not for discussion, huh.” He looked around with a frown. “Actually, I haven’t been out much lately. Too much work.”

“You said you’re a solicitor in the Old Law. Must be interesting.”

“I specialize in trusts and estates so the fact that business is booming is something to mourn. The Fade has become too full of the innocent as of last summer—”

At the booth next door, a bunch of big guts with gold watches and silk suits laughed like the blowhard drunks they were—to the point that the loudest of them slammed back in his seat and knocked into Saxton.

Which didn’t go over well, proving that Saxton was a gentleman, but not a pussy: “I beg your pardon, but would you mind toning it down?”

The sloppy human cranked around, his belly fat bulging over his belt until it looked like he was going to pull a Meaning of Life and thin-mint it all over the place. “Yeah. I mind.” His watery eyes narrowed. “Your types don’t belong here anyway.”

And he wasn’t talking about the fact that they were vampires.

As Blay took a drink of his port, the high-priced liquor tasted like vinegar... although the bitter sting in his mouth wasn’t because the stuff had gone bad.

A moment later, the guy banged back so hard, Saxton nearly spilled his drink. “Damn it to hell,” the male muttered going for his napkin.

The fidiot human leaned into their space again, and you had to wonder if that belt wasn’t going to snap free and take someone’s eye out. “We interrupting you two pretty boys sucking on those hard things?”

Saxton smiled tightly. “You are definitely interrupting.”

“Oh, sorrrrry.” The man made an abrupt show of lifting his pinkie up from his stogie. “Didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Let’s go,” Blay said as he leaned in and snuffed out his cigar.

“I can get us another table.”

“You running along, boys?” Mr. Mouth drawled. “You going to a party where there’s all kindsa cigars? Maybe we’ll follow you just to make sure you get there okay.”

Blay kept his eyes locked on Saxton. “It’s getting late anyway.”

“Which means it’s only the middle of our day.”

Blay stood up and reached into his pocket, but Saxton put his hand out and stopped him from getting his wallet. “No, allow me.”

Another round of commentary from the Super Bowl-and-stripper set soured the air even further and left Blay grinding his molars. Fortunately, it didn’t take long for Saxton to pay the waiter and then they were making their way to the door.

Outside, the night’s chilly air was a balm to the senses and Blay took a deep breath.

“That place isn’t always like that,” Saxton murmured. “Otherwise, I would never have taken you there.”

“It’s all right.” As Blay started walking, he felt Saxton fall in beside him.

When they got to the head of an alley, they paused to let a car hang a louie on Commerce.

“So how are you feeling about all this?”

Blay faced the other male and decided life was too short to pretend he didn’t know precisely what the “this” was. “To be honest, I feel strange.”

“And not about those charmers back there.”

“I lied. I’ve never been on a date before.” This got him a cocked brow and he had to laugh. “Yup, I’m a real player.”

Saxton’s suave air slipped and behind his eyes, true warmth glowed. “Well, I’m glad I was your first.”

Blay met the guy’s stare. “How did you know I was gay?”

“I didn’t. I merely hoped.”

Blay laughed again. “Well, there you go.” After a pause, he put out his palm. “Thank you for tonight.”

As Saxton slipped his hand in, a frisson of pure heat flared between them. “You do realize that dates don’t normally end this way. Assuming both parties are interested.”

Blay found that he was unable to let go of the male’s palm. “Oh... really?”

Saxton nodded. “A kiss is more customary.”

Blay focused on the male’s lips and abruptly wondered what they tasted like.

“Come here,” Saxton murmured, pulling on their connection, drawing him into the shelter of the alley.

Blay followed into the darkness, swept up under an erotic spell he had no interest in breaking. When they were in the lee of the buildings, he felt the male’s chest come up against his own and then their hips fused.

So he knew precisely how much Saxton was aroused.

And Saxton knew he was the same.

“Tell me something,” Saxton whispered. “Have you ever kissed a male before?”

Blay didn’t want to think of Qhuinn right now and he shook his head to clear the image. When that didn’t work, and the guy’s blue and green eyes lingered, he did the one thing guaranteed to get him to stop thinking of his pyrocant.

He closed the distance between Saxton’s mouth and his own.

Qhuinn knew he should have gone right home. After he got summarily dismissed from Tohr’s house, no doubt so that John and Xhex could do a little horizontal conversating, he should have gone back to the mansion and cozied up to some Herradura and minded his own goddamned business.

But nooooo. He’d taken form across the street from the only cigar bar in Caldwell and watched—in the rain like a loser—as Blay and Saxton took up res at a table right in the front window. He’d gotten a whole lot of bird’s- eye as his cousin had looked at his best friend with an elegant lust, and then some knuckleheads gave them a hard