“Pretty here. Reminds me of the Village.”
“It’s a nice place to grow up and raise a family. My brother and his family live around the corner.”
“Convenient.”
For me and for him. We crossed the street and walked into a place creatively named the Wine Bar. What was with this area and terrible restaurant names?
“I come here when I want a nice glass and some cheese.”
“Let’s do that. A fitting end to a delicious meal.”
It was crowded and dark, and it surprised and encouraged me that he’d picked an almost romantic place. We squeezed into the last open table in the back. We ordered two glasses of port and several cheeses and sat with our legs pressed tightly together. I took off my coat and used the opportunity to slip my arm along the banquette behind him. The waiter brought our drinks and cheese and left us alone. It was secluded in the rear of the bar, the rest of the crowd concentrated on the other side, and the low murmur of voices didn’t interrupt my enjoyment of the soft jazz playing. I sipped my drink, its heavy sweetness warming my blood.
“This is very, very nice.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Close to me, Torre’s breath smelled rich and fruity from the wine.
“I like you too.” I cupped his cheek and leaned in to kiss him, and he met me halfway. His mouth pressed to mine, soft and firm. A surge of white-hot lust blazed through me. I pushed my tongue between his lips, and he opened for me. Hungry for him, I swept inside and sucked his tongue, triumph rushing through me at the sexy little whimpers he made into my mouth. He clutched my shoulders, and I ran my lips from his, down his jaw, to the thick cords of his neck. He smelled incredible, like spices and sunlight. I nuzzled into his neck, biting and licking, tasting his warm skin.
“Hold up.” Breathing heavily, his mouth red and swollen from our kisses, Torre backed away on the bench seat. I found it difficult to catch my own breath, and my cock was hard and straining.
“Is something the matter?”
He shook his head but didn’t speak as he took a sip of his port. After he swallowed, he rolled his glass between the palms of his hands. “This is moving too fast. I don’t even know your name. I’ve never kissed a guy whose name I didn’t know.”
For one incredible moment, I wanted to tell him who I was and the crazy circumstances that brought me to this place. But thinking of Salvatore Grant got my blood boiling, and I didn’t want to feel angry when I sat here, warm and sated from the unexpectedly delicious food and the man next to me. What I wanted was to kiss Torre again and feel his velvety, soft tongue lick up against mine.
“I’m Frisco.” I reached for him again, but Torre stayed where he was. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right.”
Shit.Did he recognize me?
Tense now, I forced a smile. “Felt pretty right to me.” He ducked his head, and though it was dark, I would lay bets that he blushed. Unwilling to let the moment die, I slid my hand up his arm. “Don’t worry. I don’t bite. Usually.”
He jerked his gaze upward, and I took that moment of uncertainty to kiss him again, covering his mouth with mine. He stiffened for a second, then melted into me, and I held his face while my tongue plundered his mouth. With every breath, I felt his resistance slipping.
I tickled the outside of his ear with my tongue, and he jumped. I smiled. “Can’t we find somewhere more private?” I murmured and ran the tip of my tongue around his ear in between increasingly hot kisses. “I have no desire to put on a show for people.”
His eyes glazed, Torre nodded. Having little interest in waiting for the check, I took out my wallet and threw some bills on the table that would cover the food and drink plus a hefty tip. With my arm around his solid waist, we walked out into the night, and I took advantage of the darkness and deserted street to push him up against the wall.
“Where’s your place?” My hand rested on his shoulder, and I knew he felt the steel-hard outline of my cock. I hadn’t been this turned-on in ages. The romp with the waitress from the night before faded from memory. “Can we go there?”
He swallowed and gave me another of those long, searching looks. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“I won’t hurt you.” My fingers skimmed his cheek, and though he was my height and weight, he had a vulnerable quality, almost like Presley. But I didn’t want to know about his past and heartbreaks. All I wanted was to feel.
He nodded. “I’m around the corner.” He took my hand, and once again I let him lead me through unfamiliar Brooklyn streets until we came to a townhouse with rose bushes in the front and boxes of geraniums at the windows.
“Beautiful home.”
“I live downstairs. Come on.” He opened the gate, and we entered the apartment through the side door. I expected it to be dark and old, but it surprised me with its airy, open space and the modern kitchen taking up one half of the room; the other half was dominated by a large, gray sectional sofa and a flat-screen.
Now in familiar surroundings, Torre gained confidence, and after putting away some papers and a laptop, he leaned on the edge of the kitchen island. “Do you want something?”
I slipped my arms around his waist, and the heat between us rose again. “Only you. Naked.”
He blinked, as if shocked by my statement, but his cock twitched against my thigh. I cupped his ass, and at his sharply indrawn breath, I dipped my fingers below the waistband of his pants.
