The night air is cooler now. And I do need to cool down, that’s for sure.
The café across the street is one of those quiet 24-hour places with warm lighting and worn booths. We slide into one near the back.
I order a large latte. Kane orders black coffee and, without missing a beat, asks the server for a small mug of warm milk “for the boy’s companion.”
My face burns again.
I can’t figure out if Kane is being genuinely playful about Twist or is taunting me with it…
Once the drinks arrive, I wrap my hands around the mug and try to steady myself.
“Do you feel out of place here?” I ask, glancing around at the scattering of students and academics hunched over laptops. “Surrounded by all these bookish types?”
Kane leans back, looking ridiculously at ease in his dark suit.
“What makes you think I’m not a visiting lecturer?” Kane asks with a sly smile. “Or an expert in the field?”
I stare at him. Then I laugh—short, surprised, real.
“Okay, you’ve got a sense of humor,” I snort. “I’ll give you that.”
Kane smiles and we relax a little. We talk. Not about anything heavy at first. The book I’m reading. The weather. How the city never really sleeps. But the air between us thickens with every exchanged glance.
I keep stealing looks at his hands: strong, veined, resting on the table like they could control anything they touched. I imagine them wrapping around my throat, gentle but firm. I think of them sliding over my bare skin… crashing down hard on my bare bottom, turning it pink and hot while he tells me I’m a good boy for taking it.
Heat pools low in my belly. I shift in my seat and do my best to hide the tent in my pants.
Kane’s eyes darken like he can read every filthy thought. “Sweet boys shouldn’t have such naughty thoughts in public, William.”
I nearly choke on my latte.
“How… how did you know?” My voice is a squeak. “Was it that obvious?”
Kane just smiles, slow and knowing. ThatDaddysmile. The one that says he sees me… all of me.
I can’t do this. My heart is hammering so hard I’m sure he can hear it. I set my mug down with a clatter.
“I’m not looking for a relationship,” I say, a slight tremble in my voice. “Ofanykind. Right now. Or… ever, probably. I have my studies, my work, my—” I gesture vaguely at my backpack where Twist sits. “I can’t.”
Kane doesn’t look surprised. “Who said anything about a relationship?”
The words hang between us, heavy with promise and danger. My pulse thunders in my ears. I stand up abruptly.
“I should go,” I say, my heart racing.
He doesn’t move. “I haven’t dismissed you yet.”
The words hit me like a spark to dry tinder. Something deep inside me—my Little side—reacts instantly, even as my independent brain rebels.
“Do what you have to do,” I say, voice shaky but defiant. “But I’m getting out of here and that’s just that.”
I grab my bag and walk out.
The night air slaps my heated cheeks. I’ve made it maybe ten steps when a firm hand closes around my upper arm… not bruising, but impossible to escape.
Kane marches me back across the street, straight into the library.
I’m too stunned, too turned on, tooeverythingto protest properly.
