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“You can’t stay for a while?”
He blinks a few times as he watches me.
“I suppose I can,” he says.
“Can I sit with you?” I ask carefully. I’m not sure what is too much with him. Is he going to think I’m playing him right away if I come on too strong? Asking to sit with him isn’t too strong, is it? It’s pretty tame and innocent. I’m not begging to suck his dick. I’ll do that another time.
He gathers his things and brings them to a table against the back wall. He’s dressed in his usual attire: slacks, shiny shoes, and a dress shirt. Only tonight, a few buttons at the top are undone. Is this his way of getting comfortable? Sad. Does the guy own anything other than slacks? Does he get comfy in sweatpants or pajama pants?
I sit on the couch he was on, and when he comes back, he sits down where he was, grabbing the remote and shutting off whatever he was watching. He pulls up the home screen.
“What would you like to watch?” he asks. He sounds tired, or maybe like he’s frustrated with something, but I have a feeling it isn’t me.
I shrug. “Anything is fine.”
He raises a brow, watching me for a moment, and when I don’t acknowledge him, he browses through the list of movies.
The room is big, dark, with dim yellow-ish lights along the top of the walls. There are six couches that could easily fit three people on each, and there’s a good amount of room before the row of first couches to the screen.
He selects a movie, something I’ve never seen before that seems like some sort of drama/action based on the cover, but I didn’t catch the name.
As the opening scene starts, I open the cookies.
He takes one before I can, which surprises me.
“This is why I don’t keep this sort of food in the house.” He smirks and pops the entire thing into his mouth.
“Because it’s delicious?”
“Because it’s horrible for you.”
“So is all the alcohol you drink.”
“Fair.”
“And whatever other bad stuff you do.”
“Bad stuff?” he says, humor glimmering in his eyes.
I shrug.
He grabs another cookie. We watch the movie for a little while without saying anything.
It’s nothing I’m interested in, and I find myself focusing on him more. The way his slacks are tight around his legs, tighter around his groin. The shirt tight around his arms. The way his body feels. I remember what it feels like. The way he felt inside me. The way he looked when he watched me with Rafael. The way he stared at me and told me to get dressed. The way his eyes lit up when I begged him not to rat me out.
Why am I thinking about these things? It’s only going to lead me to more problems.
I grab another cookie and eat it because I need something to do. I focus on the chocolate and cream flavor instead of the flavor of his dick, but it doesn’t last long.
I’m spending time with him to get him to trust me, not to ogle him.
But if I’m going to sleep with him anyway—
Don’t be desperate, Jordan.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” I ask, not pulling my gaze from him. If I did, I’d make myself more obvious. Honestly, I hadn’t realized I was staring at him.
