Kit leaned instinctively into him, then pulled away. He looked James up and down. “You, um. You look good too.”
“I always look good. Though I’ll admit, I’m not really my own type.”
It was needy. Embarrassing. But Kit couldn’t help twining his fingers together behind James’s neck. Running his hands down James’s biceps. “Yeah? What’s your type?”
James’s thumbs made wicked circles around Kit’s hip bones. “I like tiny, five-foot twinks—”
“Five foot three,” Kit insisted.
“That’s okay too.” James sank a hand into Kit’s hair. “Five footthree, the perfect size to toss around. Hair long enough to grab, and skin that will carry my bruises for days. Plus a charming habit of changing the subject.” James leaned down, not quite close enough to kiss Kit. His hand tightened in Kit’s hair, holding him in place when he tried to close the distance between them. “What are you wearing for me, babe?”
Kit licked his lips and pushed. James barely obliged by stepping back, his gaze raking down Kit’s baggy band shirt and loose gray sweats, all the way down to his sock-covered toes.
“You had some good ideas,” Kit said, suppressing a smile. “Mini skirt… lacy thong… socks…”
James laughed and poked Kit’s toes with his own bare feet. “Mm, sexy. All this for me?”
Kit wiggled his toes and debated, then looked up at James through his eyelashes. “Actually, there’s a bit more.”
Fuck, he was never going to get over the way James looked at him. Kit held his gaze as he hooked his thumbs into his waistband and slid the sweats down. Carefully, so he didn’t yank down the socks as well.
It was kind of hilarious, kind of addictive the way James’s eyes widened.
Kit’s new socks stretched all the way to mid-thigh, leaving a few inches of bare skin between the tops of the socks and the hem of his oversize shirt. The socks were midnight blue, scattered with swirls of tiny, sparkly gold stars, plus bigger yellow stars.
Each big star was captioned with the words: Personal Space.
Something James had obviously never heard of.
James stroked the bare skin of Kit’s thighs, between the edge of the socks and the hem of his long shirt. The feathery touch sent shivers through Kit’s entire body, and his cock swelled under his tight briefs.
“Forget dinner,” James purred. “I’m starting with dessert.”
Kit had meant the socks as more of a joke than anything else. They were cute. Funny. But from the way James was looking at him, Kit may as well have gone into the lingerie store after all. He couldn’t imagine James would have looked any more ravenous.
All Kit could do was squirm, breath quickening, as James slid his briefs down over his knees and to the floor, careful not to pull the long socks down with them. He kicked the sweatpants and briefs farther away, then easily picked Kit up and sat him on the island.
Kit hissed at the cold granite underneath his ass, before James pulled him into a searing, distracting kiss. Blood pulsedhotter and hotter, and James’s hands dug into his thighs. Fingertips slipped under the edge of the socks.
A cell phone buzzed on the counter next to Kit.
James glanced over without removing his hands from Kit’s thighs. “See who that’s from,” James ordered, then resumed kissing and biting Kit’s shoulder through his t-shirt.
Dizzy from arousal, Kit picked up James’s phone.
“It’s a photo from… Rope Guy?” Kit narrowed his eyes. “The photo doesn’t show on the lockscreen.”
“Oh, that’s just Darius. He can wait.”
Kit jolted from his haze. He hadn’t realized Darius and James were on a texting basis. And it felt a little weird to think about being held at gunpoint by Darius while James was kissing his body alive.
But also…
“Why do you have him saved as Rope Guy?”
That made James pause, his narrow, unreadable gaze covering Kit’s entire body. His hands ran up Kit’s back, under his shirt, somehow more illicit and arousing than just touching uncovered skin.
Instead of answering, James asked, “Hypothetically, how do you feel about threesomes? Is that a hard limit like cannibalism?”
