“Whether or not we’re compatible.”
He tilts his head. “Is there some reason why we wouldn’t be compatible?”
Heaving a sigh, I prepare to have to convince him all over again, because there are some things I would never lie about. “I tend to attract a particular type of man,” I say in a matter-of-fact fashion. “I’m pretty. I’m smaller than the average man. The way I sound, the way I move…” Ned’s eyes are starting to glaze over, and I need to get to the point. “A lot of gay men take one look at me and think they’ve hit the twinky jackpot. Which is all well and good, until I say four little words. More often than not, all that lusty goodness floats away like so many petals on a cold winter breeze.”
Ned stares at me in utter bafflement. “What do you say?”
I rise from my stool and lean forwards over the bar. He reciprocates, and I place my lips beside his ear. Resignation fills me as I speak the not-so-magical words that could ruin everything before we even start. “I don’t bottom—ever.”
There’s a moment of stunned silence, and then he drops his head to my shoulder with a muttered curse. When he straightens, he avoids my gaze, instead surveying the darkened room. His arms are crossed again, his face hard with what I can only assume is disappointment.
My heart sinks. I should have known better than to get my hopes up in the first place. There is no way a man who controls an audience the way Ned does would ever be a good match for me—even for the short term.
It’s not like I haven’t tried bottoming before. I have, and with partners who knew what they were doing. At the end of the day—or hot and sweaty night—bottoming is simply not my thing.
With a quiet sigh, I stand and prepare to leave. “I understand. We can stick to going through the motions for the festival and the party. We don’t need to—”
“No.” His hand shoots out to grab mine and he squeezes tight. “You’re right, your idea will work best. As for the other,” he adds, his voice rough and heavy. “It’s not a problem for me. At all.”
My gaze lifts to his and I see the truth in his eyes—the excitement, the hunger. He still wants me.
The tightness in my chest dissolves and I exhale. “In that case,” I say, aiming for a casual flippancy I don’t feel, “what time do you get off?”
He releases an easy laugh. “If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard those words.”
I return his laughter. “I know, so corny, but I’ve always wanted to say them.”
After sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, his gaze lifts to meet mine. “My shift finishes at midnight.”
With a nod, I reach into my wallet and pull out a slip of paper I prepared earlier, just in case. “Come by after you’re done. We can find out how compatible we truly are.”
Taking the piece of paper, he glances down at my name and address before meeting my gaze once more. He uses the flat of his palm to slide the paper over his arse and into the back pocket of his pants. A sign of future offerings. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
“See you then.” My voice is breathy with anticipation. I can’t wait to get my hands on this man. Not to mention my mouth, my cock, my come.
It takes all the willpower I have to turn and walk away. The weight of his stare brings a rush of goosebumps to my skin as I head for the door.
I’ve wanted a real boyfriend for as long as I can remember. Someone who is all mine. Now I get to have it without going through the agonies of trying to build a relationship from the ground up. I know it won’t last long—these things never do. At least, when Ned and I part ways, I’ll be able to say I’ve had a boyfriend. That there was once a man who wanted me enough to claim me as his own. That will have to be enough.
SEVEN
______
NED
The short drive from the city to Toni’s apartment building at Kangaroo Point is interminably long and riddled with discomfort. My dick is at half-mast the whole way. My arsehole won’t stop clenching. Every red light has my hands gripping the steering wheel tighter, my jaw clenching harder. Christ, at this rate I’ll be dropping trou and spreading like a two-bit whore before I make it through his goddamned doorway.
Images of how Toni might take advantage of such a scenario flood my brain, and I miss the turn for his street, almost ending up on the Story Bridge that would take me over the river to the north side of town. Cursing a blue streak, I manage to circle back around and finally park outside Toni’s building.
There’s a security panel beside the entrance and I check the piece of paper he gave me before jabbing the number into the keypad. It takes two attempts to get it right. I shove my hands into the pockets of my jacket as I wait for him to answer, my weight shifting from one foot to the other. What’s taking so long?
“This is Toni,” comes the crackly voice through the speaker.
“I’m here.” The words are little more than a lusty growl.
He buzzes me in. “Thirteenth floor.”
Wrenching the door open, I spend the elevator ride pacing in circles before bursting onto his floor.
