“You can choose.” The three words caught in my throat, feeling heavier than they should have been.
Miles turned and surveyed the patio before looking over the host’s shoulder and into the restaurant itself.
“Outside sounds nice.”
The host grabbed two menus, nothing more than small slips of cardstock, and gestured for us to follow him. Miles placed his hand on the small of my back, and I took that as the sign to go ahead of him. Through the material of my shirt, his fingers burned my skin, but the touch points turned to ice when we reached the table and he took his hand away.
“Do you know the host?” I asked, picking up the menu before setting it back in the middle of the table. Miles had asked if I would let him order for me and I hadn’t changed my mind.
“Do you want the truthful answer?” He grabbed the menu I’d set down and gave it a quick glance before looking up at me through the fan of his lashes.
“Always.”
“I know him.”
“How do you know him?” I pressed.
“We had horrible sex once,” Miles said, tilting his head a little back and to the side, like he was gauging my reaction to the bluntness of his answer. If he’d been expecting an outburst, he was going to be sorely disappointed. Maybe that was how I would have responded when I was his age, but not ten plus years on. It would have been foolish for me to think he’d been a saint before meeting me, especially considering how thoroughly and thoughtfully he fucked.
“What was so bad about it?” I quickly looked toward the host stand before turning my attention back to Miles, who studied the menu.
“I like the way you fuck,” he said, tossing the menu down and leaning forward in his chair. “You do what you’re told, but you don’t hand it out for free. For some reason, with you, I feel like I still have to work for it.”
“You do.” My voice was almost a grunt, erection quickly thickening once again between my legs.
“And with him, I didn’t.”
“Understood.”
Our waiter sauntered to the table, going over the specials and looking between us expectantly for our drink orders. Miles wasted no time, getting an appetizer, ordering our entrees, and a bottle of wine. He was efficient and curt, but when he turned his attention back to me, it was all fire and barely restrained want.
Miles’s mouth parted, tongue dragging across the bottom of his top teeth while he studied me with far more interest than he’d given the menu.
“We finally know each other’s last names,” he said, “and you know I don’t tolerate boring sex, so now it’s your turn to tell me something interesting about you.”
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Miles
Hendrix’s face pinked,looking like someone had grabbed his cheeks between their fingers and given him a solid pinch and twist.
“There’s not really much about me that’s interesting,” he said, shifting his weight uncomfortably. I hoped it was because he was hard again, like he’d been in the car, but the chairs were too low and the tables too high for me to be sure. I should have gotten a booth inside so I could sit beside him and check for myself.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“You go, then.” Hendrix gave me a limp flick of his wrist. “What about me do you think is interesting?”
No less than everything, but there was no real way to tell him that without coming off as totally unhinged and I wasn’t ready for that. I would have to come at it from another angle.
“Alright. For one, you don’t like nicknames.”
“Who said that?” He scrunched his nose at me like I was wrong.
“You were positively affronted when I called you buddy.”
“That’s an insult, not a nickname,” he said. “I don’t care about nicknames; my brother has one for me. It’s… whatever.”
“What does your brother call you?” That was two interesting things in one go. I was about to get a nickname and information about a sibling.
