For better or worse, he could only feel Angelo’s hands all over him, gripping him, lifting him while his thick cock drove every last dropof?—
“How long have you livedhere?”
Dylan blinked and handed Angelo a bottle. “Six months. I lived in Vauxhall for a few years beforethat.”
A small smile fleetingly warmed Angelo’s face. “So you weren’t around this way for a whilethen?”
“Um, not as often.Why?”
“Because that explains why we didn’t run into each other at the club. I worked there for a year a while back, before I moved to NewYork.”
“I thought you said you hadn’t been here since you werefifteen?”
“No, I said I hadn’t worked in the deli since I was fifteen. I danced with the English National Ballet for four years?—worked at the club for some of that. It kept me out of trouble, believe it ornot.”
“Get in trouble a lot, doyou?”
The ghost of a grin returned, laced with the kind of self-loathing Dylan had often seen in Sam when he talked about his childhood. “I’m not in troublenow,” Angelo said. “Or am I? You still look pretty pissedoff.”
Dylan schooled his features. “I’m not pissed off. I’m fucking bemused. Aren’t you? What were you thinking when you recognised me this morning? Come to think of it,howdid you recognise me thismorning?”
Angelo licked his lips, his tongue moving slowly... sensually as it moistened the skin. Dylan was mesmerised and caught off guard when Angelo answeredhim.
“It was yourvoice.”
“But we didn’t speak at theclub.”
“Yes, we did. I told you the safe word and you said you wouldn’t need it, and then, uh, later... you told me yourname.”
Heat flooded Dylan’s veins. His memories of Angelo fucking him were vivid and raw, but he’d forgotten the brief words they’d shared, distracted by Angelo’s hands and the current they’d seemed to carry that night. “You don’t look anything like I thought youwould.”
Angelo tilted his beer and took a long pull, his elegant neck working as he swallowed, his mouth glistening as he lowered the bottle. “I can’t decide if you think that’s a bad thing or not. You’re hard toread.”
That was rich coming from him, but Dylan let it slide, preoccupied by the idea that Angelo believed that revealing himself?—however bizarrely it had occurred?—was somehow a disappointment. Was he fucking serious? It was the fact that he was so goddamn hot that had freaked Dylan out in the first place. The bear of a man he’d imagined hadn’t materialised, but the moody, lithe dancer leaning against his kitchen counter was the stuff of wet dreams. “It’s not a bad thing. I’m just having trouble believing you’rereal.”
Angelo chuckled. “Back at ya. I couldn’t believe my luck when I found you waiting for me in the bunker. It’s been a long timecoming.”
“Yeah? Do you go downstairs a lot?” Dylan picked at the label on his beer bottle, hoping his question appearedinnocuous.
Angelo eyed him, perhaps sensing that his bland tone hid the startling reality that whatever answer he gave would turn Dylan inside out all over again. “I hadn’t been to the club for more than a year before the other night. I can’t deny that the basement rooms are familiar?—I helped set them up?—but it’s been a while since I usedthem.”
“You set themup?”
Angelo shrugged. “Kind of. Tammy, the owner, did a secret ballot of the staff a few years back, asked us to describe our ultimate fantasy. Mine got picked out of thehat.”
It’s not just yours.Dylan rubbed his temples. There was so much he wanted to ask Angelo, but the abrupt collision of too many worlds was giving him a migraine. “Let me get this straight: You worked at the club when you were dancing in London, then you moved to New York and only came home when your fatherdied?”
“That’s about the size ofit.”
“What happened to your money? You have massive loans, but they’re not student debts, so I don’tunderstand.”
“Why are you asking about that? You’re not my advisor anymore, remember? You sent me back to the shithole across theroad.”
The air shifted, but Angelo’s obvious irritation did nothing to ease the building desire in Dylan’s gut. “I did that before I knew who you were, but that doesn’t mean I don’tcare.”
“I don’t want you tocare.”
“No? So what do you want? Why are you in myhouse?”
