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“So, Émile,” someone on the groom’s side asks. “How the hell did Christian reel you in?”
Émile’s hand tightens on my waist and he angles away from them to tilt his lips to my ear. “Quick, what’s our escape plan?”
“Ah … we could dance? That’s something I actuallyamconfident doing.”
He shifts, nose pressing against my temple and lips brushing my cheek. It’s calming. His closeness. Émile addresses the people around us without looking at them. “I’m sorry to interrupt you all, but I’m dying to get my sexy man on the dance floor. Excuse us.”
And without waiting for a single reply, he pulls me through the crowd and into the center of the room.
Dancing is something I’ve been doing for years. Sure, most of it’s choreographed, but pulling Émile into my arms, swaying to the music, seeing the kindness in his eyes as a smile touches my face, settles the knot of anxiety that’s been strangling me all day. It’s the first time I’ve felt totally relaxed all night.
“Tell me something happy about you,” he says.
“Happy? Uh …” Focusing on the positive isn’t something I do a lot. “I love my roommates. I love living with them and hanging out with them. Sure, people are always saying it’s weird that a bunch of grown men live together, but …”
“How judgmental of them. Some days I wish we could go back to the ideals of communities where we share resources and a support network. Humans are social creatures, even the introverts. We all want to find our people.” He dusts his thumbover my cheek. “I think it’s fucking impressive you’ve found yours.”
My cheeks heat at the compliment, because I’ve never thought about it like that. Most people think we’re lazy or momma’s boys or refuse to grow up. Émile’s spin on it makes me oddly proud.
“What’s something happy about you?” I throw back.
“I escaped what would have been a hellish afternoon with my family to spend time with an incredibly good-looking man who doesn’t know how sweet he is.”
Aw, shit. Butterflies race through me, but I play dumb, because no one just says things like that to my face. “W-when was that?”
He laughs, stepping in closer until our bodies are pressed together. “Don’t fish, love. We both know I’m talking about you.” His warm breath tickles the spot on my neck, just beneath my ear. It heats the skin down to my shoulder, my collarbone, blood burning from there, all the way down to my cock.
“I’m not completely sweet, you know,” I murmur. “Just having an off-day.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“I can be … salty? Is that the opposite of sweet?”
“You tell me.” That sexy British accent in my ear is making me lightheaded. It’s also draining the blood in my body south, which is a super gay thing to happen in the middle of family who are uncomfortable with all my gayness.
And the way we’re standing now, with Émile’s hands bunching the fabric of my shirt at my hips, his nose in my hair and my thigh almost between his legs, is broadcasting that gayness loud and clear.
I want to get out of here. To show him through a full night of sexual favors how thankful I am that he did this for me. Even though I didn’t get myPretty Womanmoment, even though noone is leaving here impressed by my life and what I’ve made of it, and even though they likely think I’m a regular guy with a second-rate boyfriend, I’m finding it so hard to care about any of that with Émile this close.
“I, umm …” Shit, how do I say this without sounding like a thirsty idiot? Sure, he offered to do this with me and called me cute and is playing his part perfectly, but what if it’s all an act? Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t ask. Maybe I shouldn’t make this weird, when things are actually going okay.
“You’re suddenly tense,” he says. “What is it?”
“I don’t wanna say.”
“Why? Because you’ve done so well to keep your thoughts bottled up so far?”
I huff. He’s got me there. “Fine, I was just … I was thinking … well, tonight’s been great and … and I …”
“Want to get out of here?”
Relief seeps through me. “Exactly that.”
“Your place or mine?”
“I don’t care, but maybe yours? Roommates, remember?”
“Oh, I remember. I’m almost desperate to meet them, but my place is probably best. I’m curious to see if your embarrassment extends to the bedroom or if I’ll be able to make you scream.”
