“Is that a yes?” Kit extricated himself from James’s lap and perched on the opposite bench.
“That’s a yes,” James said, shuffling his jeans back up.
Relief flooded Kit. He sat there as James reached for a compartment, producing a roll of wet wipes. He tossed one to Kit and started wiping down his own hands.
“That doesn’t mean I’m like, dating you or anything,” Kit said as he cleaned up.
James followed his every movement. “Of course not. I want to put effort into seducing you.”
“Great,” Kit said weakly. “I can pay you rent, or find somewhere else I guess, as soon as I find a job.”
James’s eyes curved in a smile. “No rush. I have plenty of money to keep a trophy boyfriend on the side.”
“We’re not boyfriends,” Kit said, even though the word made him feel all sappy and warm inside. God, he was an emotional wreck after coming.
“Of course not,” James said smugly, and leaned forward. He braced one hand on Kit’s thigh, and kissed a faint, whimperingbreath from Kit’s lips. “We’re at Bishop’s place. Want to pack up your stuff?”
Dizzy from the kiss, Kit hadn’t even noticed the limo come to a halt. He peeked out the windows, and sure enough, they were parked on Bishop’s street.
James checked his phone. “Carla texted to say she abandoned us. Bishop invited her inside to watch the Devil Whales game while she waited.”
A few minutes later, Kit followed James up Bishop’s walkway. Carla slipped out of the house as they approached, ignoring her boss but giving Kit a slight wave.
Kit waved back, feeling a bit guilty, but she seemed completely unflappable.
At the doorway loomed Bishop, with the air of a wolf waiting in the shadows. His broad frame filled the doorway, and his piercing blue eyes were unreadable. Something about Bishop’s gaze made Kit hyperaware of his messy hair, his reddened lips. The cum drying uncomfortably in his underwear.
Had he wiped all the spit from his face?
What did Bishop think of him right now?
Bishop didn’t say anything until they were all standing in the foyer. He closed the front door and asked James, his voice low and tense, “You took him on a kill?”
Right. The murder was probably a bigger deal than the blow job.
“Yeah,” James said, not backing down. “Are you going to make that a problem?”
Bishop just crossed his arms and stared. The two of them seemed to grow larger, two masculine presences warring for control of the room. Kit felt at once nervous and curious how this would turn out.
Nervous, curious, and very small.
James broke the silence first. “He’s moving in with me. We’re just here to pick up his things.”
Bishop’s expression didn’t change, but Kit had the strangest sense that Bishop was disappointed. Which didn’t make sense. Bishop was the one who told Kit he was free to go in the first place.
“Are you?” Bishop asked Kit.
Kit rubbed his hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he said, breaking eye contact like a coward. He edged towards the stairs. “I’m going to grab my shit.”
He made his escape before either of them could say anything. James and Bishop could have whatever bullshit macho showdown on their own.
10
Kit didn’t belong to him.
Some stupid, reckless part of Bishop yearned to grab Kit’s arm as he fled upstairs. Pin him against the wall. To the floor. Chain him to the railing again, to prevent him from leaving. But Bishop knew better than that.
Kit didn’t belong to him.
