Thomas stiffened. “It’s only when you’re like that, out of your mind with the pleasure and pain of multiple orgasms that I get to control.”
“Does it…you know, turn you on to see me like that?”
Thomas huffed at the dishes. “It doesn’t matter whether it does or –”
“It matters to me.”
“Scott…”
“It’s a simple enough question.”
“Yes,” Thomas admitted with his back to Scott. “It affects me too.”
“You don’t get relief, though.”
“I’m more than capable of sorting myself out.”
Scott placed his glass on the side.
“That’s not going to wash itself, you know?” Thomas grunted.
“Thomas…” Scott murmured.
“What?”
Scott lowered himself to the floor, his thighs burning as he knelt.
Thomas braced both hands on the counter, not looking.
“I can help you get it,” Scott whispered.
“Jesus, Scott.”
“I want to do something nice for you.”
Thomas snorted bitterly. “You could put that glass in the dishwasher.”
“Why won’t you turn around?”
“Because you don’t sound like my Scott anymore. You sound like the Scott I heard when you were with that man…your client.”
Scott bit his lip. “I…that’s not –”
“I’m going to turn around and leave the room, and we won’t ever mention this again.”
Humiliation warmed Scott’s cheeks. His shoulders were heavy, and he looked solemnly at the tiles. The rejection stung. Thomas’s assumption of being viewed as a client hurt.
“That’s probably for the best,” Scott whispered.
Thomas turned around.
Scott tensed, expecting to be knocked onto his arse when Thomas stormed out.
He waited, staring at Thomas’s feet, watching his toes curl.
“You reek of sex.”
Scott looked up at Thomas’s rough voice. He frowned, a little pissed by the insult. Thomas’s face was unreadable.
