“I know. That’s why I like him.”
“Bollocks. You like noisy people ’cause it keeps the attention off you.”
“If you—” Nero caught himself. “Even if that’s true, it don’t explain why I like you, ’cause you flit from one to the other like fucking whiplash.”
“Do I?”
Nero reached for a second glass of rum Lenny hadn’t noticed. “Yeah.”
With no further explanation forthcoming, Lenny left it at that and plucked Nero’s glass from his fingers. “How many of these have you had?”
“A few.”
“A few, eh?” Lenny chugged half and passed the rum back. “By the flush in your cheeks I’d say you’d had a few too many.”
“Nah, that’s just you making me hot.”
Lenny stepped between Nero’s legs and laid a hand on Nero’s forehead. It felt more heated than usual, but it was a warm night, and the club was packed and sticky. Add in the rum, and the palpable current lacing Lenny’s own blood and—
Nero’s kiss cut Lenny’s thoughts in half, though why he was surprised, he couldn’t say. And he didn’t try. He wrapped his arms around Nero’s neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss, losing himself in it, in Nero, until the need for air won out.
He sucked in a breath and dove back in, despite the fact that they had never done this in public, and that he had no idea if Nero’s bisexuality was common knowledge to anyone but Cass. Lenny let his self-control slip free, because everything about Nero drove him insane—his smell, his strength, and the cool way he leaned on the wall and turned Lenny inside out all at the same time. Nero still claimed to be bad at making decisions, but as he took what he wanted from Lenny with devil-hot strokes of his velvet tongue, he was anything but.
He wants me. And he could have Lenny, anytime, anywhere.
Here.
Now.
Lenny pulled away with a gasp that bled out into a breathless groan. “How long do we have to stay here?”
“Long enough to rinse Tom’s credit card. It’s behind the bar until midnight.”
“Free drinks?” The prospect didn’t calm the heat throbbing in Lenny’s groin, but if Nero wanted to stay, Lenny was damn well gonna get drunk. “Why didn’t you say?”
Nero grinned and kissed Lenny’s nose. “You were too busy harping on about dancing. Come on. I could do with a refill.”
Lenny let Nero take his hand and lead him back inside. There was a crowd at the bar, but, like magic, Tom appeared with more rum for Nero and a questioning grin for Lenny.
“What are you drinking?” he asked.
Lenny peered over the bar, scanning the dozens of novelty flavoured vodkas. “Bubblegum voddie and lemonade, please.”
“Fair enough.”
Tom disappeared, leaving Lenny at the mercy of Nero’s obvious amusement.
“Bubblegum vodka? Is it gonna turn your tongue blue?”
“Pink, actually. To match my hair.”
“Or that neon shit you’ve got on your eyes.”
So he had noticed. Lenny couldn’t deny that he’d had Nero in mind as he’d rummaged through the bag of tricks he kept in the bathroom, because despite spending the past few months fighting to be invisible, Lenny needed Nero to see him, now more than ever.
Because maybe then he’d let Lenny see him.
Tom returned with two glasses of Lenny’s pink vodka. He hovered a moment, as though he wanted to linger, but Cass bounced up and dragged him away. Lenny watched them go, watched them reach Jake’s side and envelop him between them, Cass kissing first him, and then Tom, like his soul burned for them both. Lenny’s heart ached with a heady mix of awe and envy. Nero cared for him, wanted him, but he’d never loved as freely as the three men Lenny couldn’t stop staring at.
