“Yes, please.” He carefully tucks Rowan into his jeans and then sits carefully until Rowan climbs out and opens his door. Luca drops into a crouch and tucks his hand up into the large hole in Rowan’s pant leg and pulls his hard cock down, so the head of it peeks out whenever the material moves a certain way. With a final kiss to the head, he jumps into Rowan’s arms and wraps his legs around his waist. “Milkshake and cheesecake, please.”
“Thank Cameron, baby.” Rowan thrusts a big tip into the man’s hand with a nod.
“Thank you, Cameron.”
“My pleasure, miss.”
The words are met with a soft giggle in Rowan’s ear. “He’s so nice. I like it here.”
Rowan likes it, too. Once they’re inside the elevator, he lets the pleasure of anticipation—and of holding Luca close—build. When the doors open, they’re transported back in time to a family-style American diner.
It looks like a postcard from the 50s—bright red booths and chrome-trimmed tables, napkin dispensers, and what probably isn’t ketchup bottles neatly lined up within easy reach. A soda fountain gleams behind the counter, where servers in short, crisp, light blue period-style uniforms glide by on roller skates with trays of burgers, fries, and shakes piled high with whipped cream.
The lighting is bright, and the hum of conversation (and moans) mixes with the low whir of the milkshake machine, and the clink of silverware on plates fills the air. Scattered between the booths are a few tables with red-cushioned chairs, their metal legs scuffed but sturdy. It’s wholesomeon the surface—just a classic diner serving comfort food—but the doors discreetly tucked along the far wall hint at other rooms where the heavier play goes on.
It’s busier than Rowan expected. At least twenty couples or groups are eating or chatting in small clusters around the room. A sliver of doubt skitters down Rowan’s spine. These are strangers—which is the point, he knows that—but they’re unknowns and the Wolf does not like it one bit.Good thing this isn’t about you, dumbass.
“Table for two, sir?” the hostess asks. She is wearing a sky-blue dress with a lacy handkerchief in her pocket that saysJo, and her hair is poufy on top, flipped up at the ends.
“Uh…Luc?”
There must be more to her question, because Luca hops down with a smile. “Please.”
“Certainly. Follow me.” Jo seats them at a small four-top table halfway between the door and the restroom, with chairs on one side and a banquette on the other. The “window” is a long mirror reflecting the room, offering an incredible view. Jo doesn’t stick around; she just places the menus on the table and slips away.
Holy shit. The spiced rum exceeds the low-level patch he’d worn for their outing, broadcasting Rowan’s anxiety.
Luca tilts his head, nods to the chair opposite him. “What’s up, Buttercup?”
What’s up!?They’re celebrities in a public place, and there are forty people about to see him fuck Luca over a table. The potential disaster has Rowan limp in his jeans—for once. “I’m sorry for fucking this up Luc. Honestly.”
“What? You’re doing great,” Luca says, a look of genuine confusion marring his face.
“But what if these peopletalk?We’re famous. This could ruin everything we’ve been working for.”
Luca clutches his hands under his chin. “Ro. You are the sweetest thing. Look, this club is safe. Think about it. Would Jaybird or Gideon put us at risk? It’s magically spelled. No one here will remember who we are. Tech devices don’t work here, and if someone is immune, like Nix would be—whichis why he’s not invited, by the way—then there are some serious consequences.”
“Oh.” Relief floods his system and he falls back against his chair.
“Yeah. It’s safe.Weare safe. I’m sorry you were nervous about it. I should have told you before.”
There’s a surge of joy that he can have this with Luca, maybe with Gideon or Finn even, and still keep his mate safe. Their lives are safe. Even the Wolf settles a bit when he hears the words.
“You are such a good alpha. Gideon is going to hear about how good you’ve been.”
Rowan wishes that didn’t make the Wolf want to wag his tail. “Yeah, yeah. Now, can we get to the fun part, please? You ready?”
“Bring it.”
“Good. I’m going to sit beside you, and you are going to do exactly what I say.”
“Yes, please.”
Once they’re settled, with Rowan behind the table and Luca perched beside him, Jo returns to take their order: french fries, cheesecake, and a large vanilla milkshake with whipped cream. While it might not be about the food, Rowan’s meltdown has left him hungry. Waiting for the food gives him a moment to look beyond their bubble at the people—but not the things—they’ll soon forget when they leave.
The table closest to them has a stunning middle-aged woman nonchalantly dipping french fries into her milkshake while paging through a magazine. It’s Luca’s breathy squeak that has Rowan following his gaze to the other woman under the table, her face pressed between her partner’s legs.
There’s a commotion beyond them, as a large man lifts his partner onto his lap, soon bouncing the smaller man on his lap while the server behind maintains a conversation with both.
