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Pity. I’d love a reminder of his smooth, soft skin. “Go grab your laptop and let’s do this.”
He returned from the bedroom with his laptop and nestled into the cushions of the couch, perching it comfortably on his lap. At this angle, I would have to cozy up to his side in order to see the screen. Scooting closer, I wrapped my arm around the back of the couch behind his neck, fitting us together like two puzzle pieces as he pulled up a search engine.
Ryan glanced at me, his eyes soft and hopeful. I thought for the thousandth time they were beautiful and so blue, like a clear sky on a sunny day.
“Should we try Match? Plenty of Fish? A friend of mine started up a new site that focuses on high-end gay relationships. I don’t think he has a very large pool of clients yet though, but it wouldn’t hurt to add my name to the list. I bet Lucky Connections is going to take off.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. It was obvious to me Ryan had money, but his words made me think of rich older men looking for sugar babies. That certainly wasn’t the goal I was trying to achieve by helping Ryan find a date. Thinking of him as some rich man’s plaything bothered the shit out of me, but I didn’t have time to examine it more closely.
“High-end, huh? Let’s just stick with Match for now. If you don’t get the responses you’re hoping for, you can branch out later.”
“So, where do we begin?” Ryan clicked the button that said create profile.
“Let’s start with your profile picture. This is important. It sends a huge message as to what kind of guy you’re trying to attract. If you send a close-up of a body part, it says you’re hiding your identity and you’re here for sex. If you show a picture of your face, like you did on your last profile, it conveys that you’re being honest and upfront about who you are and what you look like.”
I searched Ryan’s gorgeous face, looking for flaws as if I was seeing it for the first time. His tiny nose turned up slightly at the tip, giving him an air of feminine beauty while his chin was small but square, all man. Finely molded cheekbones and delicately winged brows set off his crystalline eyes to perfection. I doubted he’d ever taken a bad picture in his life.
“Don’t worry, Boytoy. You have nothing to fear. The camera is going to love you.”
Ryan groaned, palming his face. “God no. Please don’t call me that.”
My lips quirked in a half smile. “Not a chance, Boytoy. Stand up and pose for me.” It was almost comical how Ryan stood, arms limp by his sides, shoulders slumped, looking miserable. “Try to smile like you’re having fun. You look like you’re in pain.”
He glared and cocked his hip, placing his hand on it, looking like the sassy spitfire I remembered. I could almost feel the heat of his fire from where I sat. But as good as he looked to me, it still wasn’t the look I was trying to achieve. Standing, I crossed over to him and mussed his hair, running my fingers through the sandy gelled waves. Ryan tipped his head back, allowing my touch, almost reveling in it.
A thought flashed in my mind. I wanted to mess him up, see him debauched and sweaty underneath me. I wanted to take Ryan apart piece by piece like I did last week. Shaking my head to clear the filthy thoughts, I reached for the hem of his shirt, my fingertips trailing over his smooth hip bones that jutted from his slim hips. Ryan didn’t protest when I whipped his shirt off over his head. And he didn’t bat an eye when he caught me staring at his tiny pink nipples, hardening under my gaze. He looked me right in my eye and challenged me, which made my dick impossibly harder.
“Is this all part of your plan? I thought we were trying to attract a better kind of man.” He didn’t flinch or cower. Ryan stood tall and proud as my eyes drank their fill of him.
“I was going to suggest you change your shirt. Only old men who play golf wear lavender polo shirts.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “That is absolutely not true. But if you insist.”
As he walked away toward his bedroom, I watched unashamedly as his hips swished, appreciating his tight ass with each step he took. Like an eager puppy chasing after its master, I followed, hot on his heels. When he reached his closet, he turned to me, eyes wide with surprise that I was standing there, lurking in his doorway.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Help me choose something to wear.” He opened the doors and disappeared inside, his voice echoing as if he were standing in a large space. My closet was flat and wide. It wasn’t possible to step into it like a small room.
Ryan ran his hands over each hanger, considering and discarding shirt after shirt. I stepped in to help before he stressed himself out. Starting at the beginning of the row, I appraised each shirt with a critical eye, going through my options ruthlessly. “This one is perfect if you’re meeting with the president of a bank.” I frowned at the navy dress shirt before putting it back on the rod. “You probably wore this to someone’s funeral.” I skipped right over the black button-down. “This was perfect for your third-grade class picture at school.” I pretended to shiver as I touched the brown and red plaid shirt. “I’m sure you wore this to your fancy country club.” I smiled teasingly at the powder blue argyle sweater vest, trying to picture him wearing something so nerdy. He probably looked hot in a sexy-twink-geek way, but I refused to admit that to him.
Ryan became annoyed with my opinions and snatched the sweater from my hands, returning it to the rack. He moved a cotton T-shirt down the row, and I interrupted him, grabbing it from the hanger. “What about this?” The bright blue shirt had a deep V-cut neck and short sleeves. It looked completely out of place among the fancy clothes in his closet. It was perfect.
“That’s pajamas!” He tried to snatch it from my grasp, but I evaded him.
“Why would you hang pajamas in a closet? And why would you wear your best shirt to bed? Want to know what I wear to bed?”
Ryan succeeded in grabbing the shirt, pulling it from the hanger that I still held in my hand. “Because I don’t want them to wrinkle!”
I laughed, because the ridiculous answer seemed to make perfect sense to him. “Because you have a hot date in your dreams, and you wanted to look your best for him?” Ryan glared at me, not amused in the least. “Trust me, whoever he is, he’ll appreciate my advice that you wear nothing to bed, like I do. Put that shirt on for me.”
When Ryan hesitated, I stepped into his space and took the shirt from his grasp. He froze, allowing me to pull it over his head. I couldn’t stop my eyes from traveling down his bare chest, lingering on his tight pink nipples that were hardening under my gaze. I wanted to taste them again, tease them until he begged for more. But Ryan wasn’t having it. He stepped back and finished pulling the new shirt over his head, breaking the spell he was inadvertently weaving over me.
He frowned as he looked down at his exposed chest. “This shirt shows a lot of skin. I thought we were trying to attract a better kind of man.”
“Trust me, it will. What kind of man did you think you were going to attract in that ugly brown button-down?” I pointed to the closet of boring attire. “This shirt says ‘I’m young and looking for someone about the same age.’ It says you know what’s up and you’re not naïve, and that you know how to dress yourself.”
Ryan pointed to the polo shirt discarded on the bed. “And what does that one say?”
My lips quirked playfully. “It says, ‘I sell insurance, and I’ll believe anything you tell me as long as you buy me dinner.’”
