Jimmy still would have rather had his fingers clawing up Cold’s bare back instead of being tangled in his sweater, but it was definite progress nonetheless. He didn’t dare ask what Cold’s hang-up was about being touched, but he did wonder if they would ever kiss. It was strange to have sex with someone when their lips had never touched.
It was backwards. Kissing came before sex. Kissing was the very first thing on the list!
Then again, Jimmy thought with a frown, those sorts of rules only applied to dating.
He and Cold were not dating. This was a business arrangement, albeit an enjoyable one. He was here to do whatever Cold wanted. If Cold didn’t want to kiss him, that was his decision, and Jimmy didn’t have any right to be upset by it.
Still, he was disappointed. Cold’s lips looked absolutely delicious.
Jimmy pushed his thoughts back on a happier track. That beautiful way Cold had looked at him had taken his breath away, and the way his hand felt so hot against his skin made him tremble down in his bones.
Jimmy was already half hard again, grinning shyly to himself. He didn’t know about Cold, but he was definitely ready for another go.
Washed and refreshed, he exited the bathroom wearing only a smile. He had left the robe on the floor by the chair, and he was only expecting to find Cold when he came out.
Oh, he was wrong.
There was a brunette woman perched on the edge of Cold’s desk, long nails stroking through his short hair as they chatted. She was wearing a slinky halter top and long, flowing gaucho pants, swinging feet clad in stiletto heels. She was gorgeous.
Cold had changed his sweater and was actually smiling, pure and bright like Jimmy had never seen before. A jolt of envy struck him, and he realized his face was getting hot. He was too angry to even care that he was naked, staring at the woman with a sour expression.
Who was that, and why was she touching Cold?
Wait, better question, Jimmy’s brain shifted gears as his jealousy turned to angst.
Why was Cold allowing it?
The woman turned, her painted lips curling into a familiar-looking smirk—though why it was familiar, Jimmy couldn’t be sure—as she gazed appraisingly over Jimmy’s bare body. “Oh, Roddy,” she purred, “he is just darling.”
Roddy?
Jimmy finally had enough sense to blush, stumbling as he fetched his robe.
“Get your own,” Cold drawled with an affectionate roll of his eyes. “That one is mine.”
Jimmy’s face grew even hotter, unable to help a tiny smile as he quickly wrapped his robe around himself.His, Cold had said. He was Cold’s.
Not his boyfriend, not his partner, but his... well, his something.
The woman pouted, her eyes intently following Jimmy as he covered up. She stuck out her lower lip at Cold, asking, “Are you sure I couldn’t borrow him?”
“Very sure.” Cold’s smile vanished, now replaced by his usual smirk.
“What’s your name, sweetie?” the woman asked, gracefully sliding off the desk to approach him.
“Jimmy. Jimmy Poe,” he replied, a little nervous now. The woman was friendly, but there was something about the way her eyes followed him. It was downright predatory, just like Cold’s own ravenous gaze.
“I’m Rowena Legrand,” she purred, extending her hand toward him, palm down.
Jimmy did his best not to scowl when he heard her last name. He didn’t realize the gangster was married, though she didn’t seem bothered at all by his presence. It was very obvious what he and Cold had been doing, and Cold was purportedly gay.
Perhaps it was an arranged marriage, something politically motivated? Jimmy didn’t know all the ins and outs of the mob, but he figured people married all the time to keep the peace and strengthen alliances between families. That’s what happened on television anyway.
Jimmy forced a polite smile, taking her hand and placing a chaste kiss upon it. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Legrand.”
“Mrs.? Oh! How cute!” Rowena squealed happily. She smirked, giving Jimmy a knowing look as she teased, “Aw, look at you. Somebody is jealous!”
Jimmy’s flush was spreading down his neck rapidly. He hadn’t thought his displeasure was that obvious.
