I barely look up from my drafting desk. “Nope. By appointment only,” I say, pointing my finger at the door. Windsor peeks his head out from behind my desk and lets out a warningwoof.
His confident little saunter stutters to a halt, and whatever airs he was trying to put on fall apart altogether.
“Um, Everett?”
His soft voice is unmistakable. I drop my drafting pencil on the desk, not bothering to stop it as it rolls to the floor. My mouth is open, jaw nearly swinging from my head in shock. “Rafi?”
He takes off the ridiculously large sunglasses, and his gorgeous whiskey-colored eyes sparkle in the ambient light. Gesturing broadly at himself, he exclaims, “Ta-daa!”
I go to say something, but several things are hitting me all at once. First, what he’s got going on isn’t my usual aesthetic. Tiny, unkempt nerd is sorta my sweet spot, so I’m thrown. Second, and I cannot overstate this, fuck my usual aesthetic; the man is ridiculously hot in pink. Third, he’s actually wearing something tight enough for me to see that he has the most adorable micro-bubble ass I’ve ever seen. I mean, I kind of always suspected, but…fuck, it’s so cute I want to chew on it. It would fit in the palm of my hand. I…
I seem to have lost my thought.
Oh, yes.Fourth.
Fourth, he’s shaved his stubble. It’s taken ten years off him, and he’s beautiful and vulnerable all at once. On top of that, he’s wearing a light application of makeup, and right now it’s all I can do to not throw him on the ground and fuck him. He’s got the sparkly stuff across his nose and cheekbones, and he’s wearing a light lip gloss. Also, whatever the stuff is that you put on eyelashes to make them seem bigger.
I grip the desk, willing myself to stay in place. Aside from the raging insta-boner, I really doubt my ability to hold it together if I got my hands on him.
“Do you not like it?” he asks, biting his lower lip. He looks at the Blow Pop in his hand, goes a little red, and walks it over to the trash can right next to me, throwing it away. “I feel like an idiot. Parker’s been helping me update my style, and we’re going to play around this afternoon. This was my homework.”
“Parker put that outfit together for you?”
“No, she helped me buy the clothes and said I could mix-and-match in a bunch of different ways.” He sighs, looking up at me through those gorgeous lashes. “I think I did it wrong.”
The more I look, the more I see things I want to lick, suck, frot…Jesus H. Christ. His skin is this beautiful golden brown, and he is surprisingly…soft. He has a teensy bit more curve to him than I would’ve guessed, and his crop top reveals the tiniest, most succulent little belly, complete with a dark treasure trail that I want to lick. I suddenly regret ever offering to take him to the gym, never wanting to see washboard abs or rock-hard biceps on this beautiful man.
Okay, that’s some weird possessive stalker not-boyfriend shit right there. He’s not fucking veal.
It takes me a minute, but I get my hormones under control, and when I do, I have to laugh to myself. I’m like that old Looney Tunes cartoon.I will hug him and pet him and squeeze him and love him…
Rafi’s face suddenly crumbles, and his eyes go glassy as though he’s holding back tears. He straightens his shoulders and eyeballs me with the most adorable scowl on his lips. “You know, at least I’m trying something new. You don’t need to laugh at me.”
“Baby boy, I amnotlaughing at you. I am laughing at myself, because, uh…” Quick, say something other thanI want to fuck you into the first available surface. “I, uh, didn’t recognize you. Without the beard.”
His eyes quiver with uncertainty, not sure if he can believe me. Oh, man. I open my arms to him, and he stumbles forward, practically bashing into me, and squeezes me tight like he did that night in the car. My spleen is unhappy, but the rest of me loves that he trusts me in this way, even if I do have to awkwardly angle my hips away from him.
A few seconds into our embrace and his tears wet my shirt. “Rafi? What’s going on? What’s bothering you?”
“Sorry. I was just trying something with the clothes. I think I look like an idiot anyway, and you’ve pretty much confirmed it. So I’ll, uh, go now.”
As he turns to leave, my next appointment comes in. It’s Anders, who spends almost as much time in the gym as I do and has about four inches on me.
He walks past the little guy and embraces me in a big hug. “E! Been a minute since I’ve seen you in person.”
For a guy whose look borders on Viking, his accent is all East Texas. I’ll be honest with you, the first time we started hanging out it took me a while to get used to that.
“Hey, Anders, I’ll be right with you. Feel free to go on to the back.”
Anders looks down at my tiny visitor, and I watch his face as recognition dawns. It’s not hard to predict what’s coming, and I cringe as he turns to me with a wolfish smile and a raised eyebrow.
“Rafi, is that you?”
Rafi’s face goes completely red. He nods quickly and looks down, unable or unwilling to answer. I say a small prayer of thanks when, instead of dropping something horrifyingly inappropriate in the middle of this delicate conversation, he winks at me and walks into my tattoo room, making a big deal of shutting the door. Yeah…he’s for sure gonna ask me a buttload of questions about shit that is none of his business.
I turn back to Rafi, and he’s pulling at the edges of his artfully distressed shorts, trying to get them to cover a bit more leg. I summon every molecule of self-control and approach him, enveloping him in a warm hug.
“Don’t fidget, you look fine. I’ll call you after this and we can talk about it some more.”
