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He rubbed a hand over his face. “Nice. Won’t be here when you get back. I have a gig up north. I’ll be gone most of the week, so you can get your freak on all you want.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate you letting me stay here, man. I’ll be looking at getting an apartment of my own. By the time you get back, this place will be all yours again.”
“Hope you’re not doing that because you think you’re imposing. Seriously, stay as long as you like.”
“If I need to, I will, but like you said, I need a place of my own to get my freak on without making you or Scottie uncomfortable.”
“Man, people fuck all the time. Why would it bother me?”
But Scottie would be mortified if we were to have sex here while Doug was in the apartment. My little sex-crazed boy was still a prude despite his freaky side.
“Nah, it’s not just that. Staying here helped to get me on my feet. Now it’s time to rebuild my life and unfuck my fuckups.”
“A’ight. Well, have a good night. Gonna pack for the road.”
When he left, I walked over to the mirror and checked my appearance. Should I have shaved? Maybe Scottie liked his guys clean shaven instead of scruffy dudes. I glanced at my watch and groaned. I didn’t have time to shave. Scottie would be here any minute. Since I couldn’t pick him up at his place, we’d arranged for him to drop by, and then we would go to dinner together.
At least I wore a nice, clean shirt. Fresh off the rack, ironed, and shit. Scottie deserved the extra effort.
My phone rang. I snatched it up.
“Hey, Scottie. Are you close?”
“I’m downstairs.”
“Then come on up.”
“No way. If I do, we won’t leave the apartment, and I’m still…sore.”
Damn if it didn’t sound sexy the way he talked about his body being sore after what we’d done.
“I’d be gentle,” I teased.
“Umm, how gentle?”
“I’m joking, Scottie. I can give you a break until the next time I get to fuck you again. The wait will be worth it.”
“Holy popsicle in July.”
I burst out laughing. Classic Scottie with his food references to cover up what he really wanted to say.
“I’m coming down. See you in a minute.”
I shrugged into my leather jacket, grabbed my keys, and shoved my wallet into my back pocket. As I headed down the stairs, my heart raced and my palms sweated.
This was a date, and I hadn’t been on one of those in almost two decades. What if I fucked this up? I was still trying to figure out what was new and what people were into these days. I’d figured we couldn’t go wrong with food and entertainment.
Scottie stood in the lobby, hands in the pockets of his sweater. His lips moved as if he was talking to himself. He looked amazing in a pair of black skinny jeans and a red turtleneck sweater—practical for the cool February night.
He swung his head around, and our eyes met. His lips stopped moving but stayed slightly parted. The urge to kiss him was strong so I closed the distance between us in two big strides.
“Griff, I—”
I covered his mouth with mine and fed him my tongue. He stiffened for a second but then moaned. One of his hands sank into my hair, and the other clutched at my back.
He didn’t kiss like a guy who was sore. I bet if I took him upstairs…
No! We were having a date, dammit.
