Joe studied Scott for a few seconds. He felt a strange, protective desire to rescue Scott from his embarrassment, but he couldn’t deny there was also pleasure to be had in watching him squirm.
Scott’s cheeks became flushed. Ducking his head, he glanced up at Joe through his lashes. That was it.
Eventually, it became obvious to Joe that Scott had no intention of trying to speak up again. The rescuer in Joe finallywon out. He extended a hand. Scott stared at it as if he’d never seen fingers or a palm before.
“You have an envelope for me,” Joe hinted.
“I…” Scott looked over his shoulder.
Joe followed his gaze to the small gap beneath his front door. Stepping around Scott, Joe unlocked his flat and picked up the small white envelope laying just inside his hallway.
Scott shoved his hands deep into his pockets. If his jeans had been a little looser, he might have pushed them down to his knees in his rush to try to hide his nerves behind the denim. No such luck. Scott’s trainers squeaked against the wooden floorboards as he shuffled his feet.
“That’s enough,” Joe said, as he turned back to him. “Stop fidgeting.”
Scott froze.
Joe nodded his approval. Ripping open the envelope, he found a carefully folded piece of note paper.
If you don’t mind, I’d really like to see you naked. Please.
Joe didn’t chuckle. He didn’t even allow himself to crack a smile. He ran his eyes over the neatly written words one more time. The ‘please’ was a nice touch. It was a very Scott-like touch.
“If you’d r-rather n-not—” Scott began.
“Be outside your house at ten o’clock tonight,” Joe cut in. “And make sure you’re wearing boots.”
“B-boots? Um…okay?” Scott hazarded.
Joe put the envelope and the note in his jacket pocket, stepped into his flat, and closed the door behind him. A second later, he was peering through the peephole, checking on Scott’s reaction.
Scott stared at Joe’s front door for several long seconds. It was impossible to tell if he was shocked to get a third date thateasily, or if he couldn’t believe that he’d been abandoned on the doorstep rather than invited in.
As Joe watched, Scott pressed the heel of his palm against his crotch through his jeans. Whatever he was thinking, it had to be as hot as hell. Even with the distortion of the peephole, the line of Scott’s erection was clearly visible through his trousers.
Nodding contentedly to himself at a job well done, Joe turned away from the door and wandered toward his bed. He set his alarm clock to make sure he woke up in time for their date and lay down, still wearing the same clothes he’d worn for a double shift in a sauna on the other side of town.
He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow. In his dreams, there were no jeans blocking his view of Scott’s arse.
* * * * *
Scott stared down at his sensible brown hiking boots. Rocking back on his heels, he pushed his hands deeper into his coat pockets in an effort not to fidget. It was almost ten o’clock. Joe might turn up any second. It wouldn’t do for Joe’s first impression of him that night to be a disobedient one.
Scott frowned as he resorted to wriggling his toes inside his boots. It didn’t seem likely that Joe wanted them to go on a nice brisk walk in the middle of the night. Even if Joe was determined to keep all of his clothes on and never allow Scott to see a single bit of naked flesh, the idea of Joe and country rambles just didn’t sit right inside Scott’s head.
A low noise, somewhere between a purr and a roar, tugged at Scott’s senses. He leaned forward, craning his neck to peek past the neighbour’s overgrown hedge.
A motorbike rolled into view and pulled up at the kerb in front of Scott. Scott’s mouth literally watered as he ran his eyes over each stunning inch of it. The machine was sex on two wheels—with an extra order of chrome and black paintworkthrown in for good measure; and Joe sat astride it like the king of the leather-clad world.
It had to be Joe, no one else would be able to look that hot—not even on a bike made out of pure sex appeal. Joe didn’t bother to lift his visor, he just held another helmet out to Scott.
With his eyes still feasting on every perfect detail of both the man and the bike, Scott stepped forward and blindly took the helmet. Then, he just stood there and stared some more. It had never even occurred to him that Joe might pick him up on his bike rather than in his car.
He should have thought about it; he should have anticipated it. He should have jacked off thinking about it.
Joe impatiently revved the bike’s engine. Scott snapped back into movement. He wouldn’t put it past Joe to leave without him if he kept him waiting too long.
Scott fumbled with the helmet. Finally managing to get it on and secured, he scrambled onto the bike behind Joe. There was a little chrome hand hold behind the pillion seat. Gathering up all his courage, Scott ignored it in favour of wrapping his arms around Joe’s body.
