Solace, though, was hard to find at 4 a.m. when there was no reason to be awake apart from the whirling dervish in Lenny’s mind, which had been there every night since his encounter with Nero in the staff changing room. With his cock still hard and his tongue in Nero’s mouth, it had been easy—too easy—to believe he knew what Nero needed, that he understood the storm in his gaze, the painful strain in his clenched fists, but when the cold light of day had dawned the following morning, Lenny had met Nero’s dull half smile and realised he knew nothing at all.
I don’t know him.
And it hurt. Lenny was more attracted to Nero than he’d ever been to anyone—consumed, fascinated, and addicted to his quiet company, but it stretched beyond that. Far beyond. Lenny ached for Nero, and seeing the torment in him each and every day was tearing Lenny apart.
I need to know him.
But how? Nero wanted Lenny—Lenny didn’t know much, but of that he was certain—but his reticence was so deeply entrenched, Lenny reckoned even Nero couldn’t find a way round it. And likely didn’t want to. Nero wasn’t a talker; he’d made that plain.
I can’t force him.
Could he? What if—
“Fuck’s sake. How’s anyone s’posed to sleep around here with all that huffing and puffing?”
Lenny turned his head to find Nero glaring at him through heavily hooded eyes. “I’m not huffing and puffing, and last time I looked you were sleeping just fine.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
“Yeah? How do I know that you’ve been drawing them bloody tigers on my stomach all night, then?”
Ah. Nero had him there. Lenny had painted a technicolour tiger on the biggest wall at the Vauxhall site, and stray wild cats had possessed his fingertips ever since. Jake had asked if he could digitally paint a smaller one for the marketing graphics, but Lenny had never been into small art. He liked it big, like Nero’s cock.
Damn it. And that was the other thing keeping Lenny awake—the raging horn, despite starting off each night with his dick in Nero’s mouth. Or his dick in mine. Either way, there was no shortage of orgasms. “Sorry I woke you.”
“Don’t sound it.”
“What do you want me to do? Kneel at your feet and weep?”
Confusion flickered in Nero’s gaze, then it hardened, throwing up the guard Lenny was tired of butting his head against. How was it that a man could stare at him with such naked hunger and submission, all the while keeping so much of himself hidden?
Lenny turned his eyes to the ceiling, waiting for Nero to sigh and leave the room. And for Lenny to let him, and wonder if it was time he returned to his place on the couch. Because as addictive as the warmth of Nero’s embrace had become, what did it mean if his arms were those of a stranger?
Lenny jumped off the Tube in Vauxhall and let the crowd carry him above ground. On the pavement, he lit a cigarette, then turned in the direction of the bakery site and sniffed the air, detecting for the first time the telltale scent of fresh bread. They’ve turned the ovens on.
Excitement skipped in Lenny’s veins. The last few weeks had been frenetic, but with the slick Urban Soul machine at full throttle, the Vauxhall project was nearly complete. All it needed was a name, and Lenny was here today to tell the powers that be that he thought he had one.
He shifted his portfolio case to the other hand and followed the happy smell to the site. Inside, he found a full house—Nero, Cass, Jake, and a Bradley Cooper lookalike he knew to be Tom, plus a team of chefs at work in the kitchen, testing the restaurant menu Nero had honed to perfection.
Nero had his back to the door, working the pizza oven. Lenny didn’t need to see his face to know his tongue was caught between his teeth, his brows knotted in a concentrated frown that cast a perfect shadow across his chiselled features. Cooking brought Nero to life in a flawless contradiction of inanimate fire.
Lenny left him to it and approached what was clearly the inner circle—Cass, Jake, and Tom all huddled around giant stacks of paperwork. Cass looked bored, Jake intense, and Tom, well . . . despite the authority Lenny had always sensed from the other two—and Nero—it was plain who was in charge.
And it was Tom who noticed him first. He glanced up with a broad smile. “Lenny?”
“It’s me.”
Tom’s grin widened. “I wasn’t sure I’d recognise you in the flesh, but Nero said you were on your way, so I’ve been watching out for you.”
“He did?”
Cass chuckled. “Course he did. Reckon he’s gonna have a nervous breakdown if you don’t go tell him you got here safe. Give me that case. We ain’t going nowhere.”
Skipping out on Tom so soon after meeting him seemed a little wrong, but Lenny couldn’t deny the invisible force that was drawing him to Nero’s side. He relinquished his portfolio case. “The stuff for the frontage is all in there. Have a squiz while I’m gone, that way I can piss off home if you hate it.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
