“No.”
Kazimir sighed. “Well, it was a valiant effort on my part. One last ditch attempt to give you a more palatable way to me.”
Nate instinctually braced, and not a moment after, Kazimir reached back and slipped something from beneath his belt.
The clear blade of the dagger in his hold sparkled under the parking lot lights as he brought it between them and pressed the tip just above Nate’s navel. It was sharp enough that it nicked right through the thin material of his t-shirt.
“Breathe, Pretty Boy,” Kazimir ordered, smirking when Nate inhaled slowly, careful with his movements. “Good, now, eyes on me.”
It took a lot for him to tear his gaze off the shiny weapon and tip it back up to Kaz, but he did it. He didn’t even think about hiding the fear he was now feeling, or the way his confusion had only grown with this new threat.
“I had a feeling bodily harm wouldn’t work on you,” Kazimir said a minute later, after he’d kept Nate waiting in the silence. “Was I wrong? You seem scared enough.”
“A psycho is holding a knife against my gut,” Nate stated. “I don’t have a death wish.”
“Psycho, huh?”
“Are you going to deny it?” That wasn’t entirely fair since there weren’t any real rumors about Kazimir being a psychopath out there. Still. “I’ve spent enough time with Bay Delmar to recognize the signs when I see them. You’re not normal.”
“And you are? That tongue of yours doesn’t seem to know when to quit, does it? Name calling at a time like this? Really?”
“Would you prefer I beg?” Nate asked. “Is that what you want?” Is that what he should have done from the start? Gotten down on his knees and apologized for losing the race? It seemed ridiculous to him to have to take responsibility for something like that, but then, this felt ridiculous as well. “You bought the company I work for because you’re that desperate for me to—”
“Yield?” Kaz cut him off. “Yes. And let’s leave out words like desperate from now on, or else I might lose my cool and really dig this thing through your insides. Neither of us want that.”
“No?” Nate wasn’t entirely convinced.
“No,” Kazimir insisted. “I think I’d like to see you beg. Down on your knees. With those pretty pink lips of yours wrapped around my cock. But this is hardly the place, or the weather, for that.”
Right, Kaz wasn’t wearing a jacket.
“If you’re cold, go inside,” Nate latched onto that one comment.
“Not without you.”
“Okay.” He’d wait until the younger guy turned his back and then—Nate sucked in a breath when the knife was angled so the edge of the blade was now resting against his shirt. Unlike before, Kaz didn’t push it against him enough to cut anything, but the possibility was there.
“I don’t like being lied to, Narek.”
“Prefer to reserve that for yourself?” he countered.
“You really don’t know when to quit.”
“I have an older brother, remember?” Nate shook his head. “I’m used to being picked on.” That wasn’t entirely true either. Nuri would never treat him like this. Nuri was kind, the type of person Nate could only ever dream of being. His one and only flaw was that he’d fallen for a guy like Silver, but Nate digressed.
“Say you’ll go out with me,” Kaz said, and this time Nate caught himself from outright complying.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to, hotshot. You’re not my type.”
“You mean I’m notsafe,” Kaz drawled. “I don’t fit into the cooker cutter ideal you’ve mapped in your head of what your life should be. Judging by the way your body always responds so quickly to my presence, you’re wrong though, Pretty Boy. I’m exactly your type.”
“Well, I’m not yours,” Nate blurted.
He quirked a brow. “I’m the one doing the chasing here, remember? Why would I go through all this trouble if I wasn’t being serious? I want you. I want you to be my boyfriend.”
