Adriel looked up.
The flush deepened. His eyes met Landen's for just a moment, dark, still too bright, something in them Landen couldn't read.
"Goodnight," he said quietly.
Then he was gone. The door clicked shut. Footsteps faded down the corridor, soft, and then the distant ding of the elevator, and then nothing.
Landen sat down. Let his head drop back and stared at the ceiling.
A sound came out of him. Low and rough and completely involuntary; half frustration, half wanting, entirely undignified. He didn't bother trying to stop it. There was no one left to hear. Just him and the rain and the ghost of Adriel's breath still warm on his mouth.
And the realization of his cock, hard and pulsing in his pants.
Chapter 9
Adriel
It was not a big event.
Adriel had been told this four times. Once by Miriam, who delivered the invitation with her usual brisk efficiency. Once by the email that followed. Twice by himself, standing in front of his open wardrobe for the last forty minutes, repeating it like a mantra.
Author signing celebration. A small gathering at a wine bar three blocks from the office. Attendance expected.
He stared at his wardrobe. At the row of shirts hanging in tidy order, the sweaters folded on the shelf, the single jacket draped over the back of his desk chair. Everything felt wrong; too casual for an office thing, too formal for a wine bar, too tight across his stomach, too loose in the shoulders.
He pulled out a dark shirt. His best one. He held it up, studied it. The fabric was soft, good quality, something Jenna had helped him pick out two years ago.
He put it on. Buttoned it slowly, watching his reflection, and the man looking back at him was fine. The shirt fit. It was just a shirt on a body, and the body was what it was.
He looked away immediately.
He thought about Landen.
He'd been trying not to. He'd been trying for days, ever since that night in the office; the lamplight and the manuscript and the way they'd sat so close their knees touched under the table. The way Landen's eyes had dropped, just for a moment, to Adriel's mouth. Again.
The way he'd leaned in.
Adriel's breath caught just remembering it. The heat of that moment. The world narrowing to just the two of them, to the space between their mouths, to the certain knowledge that Landen was going to…
And then the long walk home alone, replaying it, wondering if he'd imagined it, wondering if Landen had felt any of it too.
He was still wondering.
He would see him tonight. That was the thing sitting in his chest all day, a low hum of anticipation and terror. Landen would be at the wine bar. Landen would look at him across the room. He would remember that moment the same way Adriel remembered it, or he wouldn't, and either possibility felt unbearable.
He tugged the shirt smooth over his stomach. Straightened the collar. Ran a hand through his hair, then immediately regretted it, tried to push it back into place.
He grabbed his jacket from the chair. Left the bedroom before he could change his mind.
Jenna was in the living room, feet up on the coffee table, book open in her lap. She looked up as he emerged and did that quick scan thing she did.
"You look nice," she said.
Adriel pulled at the hem of his jacket. "It's just a work thing."
"Uh-huh." She set her book down. "And the forty minutes in front of your wardrobe?"
He didn't answer.
