Page 37 of Baxter's Right-Hand Man

He snickered at my antics like I hoped he would, then went quiet. We both did.

This is where I’d usually start babbling like an idiot. I’d change the subject and tell him about my car collection, the video game I’d played until 3 a.m. the other night, my thoughts on how to address important issues like hunger and world peace. I know. Crazy. I didn’t do well when I didn’t have a script.

I didn’t know how to act or what to say. Was it okay to tell him I thought he was beautiful? Would it freak him out if I told him I wanted him? And if he said he felt the same, could I trust that he wouldn’t turn this into a story to sell to the tabloids? Would he film us? Was he filming us now?

I tore my gaze from his, stuffed my hands into my pockets, and sucked in a breath of air.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I made sure my smile reached my eyes. I might be a scarred and strange dude, but I was a damn good actor. “Thank you for dinner. Albogondo soup is my new favorite.”

Lorenzo grinned. “Albondigas.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Close but…not quite.”

We stared at each other, letting a poignant silence grow. Fuck, I’d have given my left nut to know what he was thinking about. Unfortunately, I didn’t have that superpower. I had to trust my instincts.

And my instincts urged me to move in, do something, make something happen. It should have been so natural for me. I was good at seduction, damn it.

But I was so fucking nervous now.

I licked my lips and whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

Lo’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. He wordlessly stepped into my space, rested his hands on my hips, and tilted his chin to look up at me. There was enough heat in his gaze to set us both on fire. My fingers trembled as I brushed a strand of hair from his forehead and caressed his cheek. He closed his eyes and parted his lips in the sweetest invitation I’d ever received.

I cupped his chin and gently pressed our mouths together.

It was a featherlight touch, soft and tentative. And oh, so fucking sweet. I breathed him in, shivering slightly as I licked the seam of his lips and glided my tongue alongside his. Lorenzo groaned into the connection. He draped his elbows over my shoulders, standing on tiptoe till we were chest to chest.

He felt like liquid fire in my arms. He swayed as if trying to get closer, sliding his fingers through my hair and raking his teeth over my bottom lip before I took over, ruthlessly plunging inside again. And again.

This wasn’t just a kiss anymore. It was a passionate fusion, and my control was slipping fast.

I leaned against the counter and pulled him between my open legs. My hands were everywhere at once—trailing his spine, lingering on his hips, cupping his ass. He was hard as a rock. I could feel his erection pressed on my upper thigh. And yeah, it drove me fucking insane. I couldn’t stop kissing him long enough to do anything else, though.

I loved the taste of wine on his lips. I twisted my tongue around his as I bent my knees in a quest for friction below. My cock pulsed behind my zipper incessantly, begging for something…anything.

We finally broke for air, panting heavily. He stayed in my arms, fussing with my shirt collar as he gazed up at me. God, I wondered what he saw. Did I look as desperate as I felt? At that very second, I was pretty damn sure, I’d never wanted anyone more than I wanted Lorenzo.

“What comes next?” he asked softly.

I choked out a laugh. “We have a few options. We can keep doing this—and I’m cool with that, but I’ll probably come in my jeans.”

Lorenzo snickered, rubbing his stubbled jaw under my chin and kissing a path along my throat. “Gimme another option.”

“We could take our clothes off. Or…I could just…touch you. I could make you feel good.” I nipped his ear, splaying my palms over his ass. “If you let me.”

He answered by crashing his mouth over mine and hiking his left leg around my hip. I lifted him onto the counter, breaking the kiss to tug his shirt over his head and get rid of my own. My mouth was on his again as he ran his fingers over my pecs and tweaked my nipples. He was so much smaller than me.

I hadn’t been with a man this fine-boned in years…maybe ever. If Iwaswith a man, I didn’t want to worry about hurting him. I liked it rough and hard and dirty. And I liked knowing I could walk away with no hard feelings or expectations. But I rarely sought out male lovers anymore. It was too much trouble. That…whatever that was with the waiter from the awards ceremony—was an anomaly.

Lorenzo was nothing like that guy. Even if we did nothing more than make out shirtless tonight, I’d never forget his name. I’d never forget the scent of his cologne or the feel of his smooth skin on mine. He was special…in every possible way. And I knew without asking that he didn’t see me as a meal ticket.

But I wondered what he saw. Did I look different if I was just me? Was I enough?

“Touch me,” he commanded, raking his fingernails along my abs, unbuckling my belt. “Anywhere. I don’t care. I’m—please.”