No. No fucking way could I take someone like her to Italy.
It was a nonstarter.
I’d have to find someone else.
Three days later,that someone quite literally fell into my lap.
“Oh, shit, sorry,” a man said as someone’s suitcase tumbled from the overhead bin and knocked him into my personal space.
This is what I get for flying commercial.
I reached out to help him stand back up, muttering, “It’s fine,” even though it wasn’t. The tiny bottle of airline water had splashed onto my shirt and chin as I’d been mid-sip, and my phone had tumbled from my lap to the floor.
When the man got to his feet, he turned to apologize, and the words froze on his lips. “Locke?”
My eyes met familiar denim blue, a bow-shaped mouth I hadn’t seen in three years outside of my own memories. “Jett?”
The crowd of passengers surged behind him, mumbling their annoyance that he was holding everyone up. I quickly moved to the empty seat by the window and gestured for him to take my now-empty seat to get out of the aisle.
He reached down to grab my phone before handing it to me and following me into the little row. Then he fell into the seatbeside me and blew out a breath. “Hey. Hi. Ah… what… where are you traveling?”
My heart thundered. I took a moment to study him. To drink in the look of him. He was healthy and well, sun-kissed despite the time of year. Filled out and muscular again. Seemingly recovered from Amsterdam.
I cleared my throat. “Home. New York. I was in Atlanta for a meeting. You?”
“Oh, er…” He seemed flustered. “Same. I mean, not home, but flying to the city. New York.”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling at the absurdity of the words. “Mm.”
He blew out a breath. “I’m staying with a friend. Hoping to find work. You know, same old.”
I didn’t want to appear overly interested, but I was too curious to stay quiet. “Where’ve you been living?”
Jett’s cheeks flushed as he glanced back at the line of passengers moving slowly past first class. “Oh, you know, just here and there. I stayed near my family for a little while and then came to Atlanta for a job. Was down in Miami a bit.” He shrugged. “I go where I find work.”
“What kind of work have you found?”
Before he could answer, a woman stopped and eyed me. “I think you’re in my seat.”
Jett stood and smiled. “He definitely is, and I’m in his. Let me get out of your way.”
He turned back to me after I stood to follow him into the aisle so the lady could take her seat.
“It was great seeing you, Locke.” He paused before adding with a flirty grin, “You look good. Really good.”
Before I could say anything, he was gone, moving off down the aisle toward the back of the plane.
I stared after him until forced to take my seat. Then I spent two hours wondering what strange trick of fate had pushed us together not once, not twice, but three times now.
And how, after the previous two, he’d been impossible to trace.
Against my will, I remembered the feel of his hot mouth on my cock, the way he’d let me fuck into his throat without complaint. How he seemed to have encouraged it, liked it even.
Don’t even consider it. That is a very bad idea.
I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if I could have a willing mouth like that in Italy. Two weeks far away from home with Jett at my beck and call. His mouth on me every night when I came to bed.
It was ridiculous, of course. There was no way I could take a man as my “date” to the Paxis tournament. It was an old-school group, made up of powerful families going back centuries. As far as I knew, there’d never been a gay couple at a tournament. And I knew several current members would probably have a stroke if I showed up with a rent boy on my arm.
