It wasn’t.
35
“You fed me cock. But I want garlic bread.”
The back of Kit’s right shoulder itched, up near his neck. Probably a hickey from one of his bitey boyfriends. He rubbed the spot, then draped over the back of the couch, hugging Darius from behind. Cheek pressed to Darius’s stubbled scalp, he breathed, “Hi.”
Darius leaned into the embrace. “Hi.”
Kit was never particularly into bald guys before meeting Darius. Not that he wasn’t into them. He just never thought about it one way or another. But there was something so satisfying about Darius’s head. Either smooth and soft, or rough with stubble like now. Like really sexy Velcro.
The TV was on but muted, and Darius clicked through menus. He was double-checking the Devil Whales game was set to record. Even though it was always set to record. Darius was particular like that.
Kit approved. Skipping commercials was important. So was pausing the game if anyone got distracted. Kit never used to give a shit about sports, but it turned out game night with his boys was fun.
“Game all set?” Kit asked, and nibbled Darius’s earlobe.
Groaning, Darius set the remote down, leaving the TV muted on the local news. “To what do I owe the cannibalism?”
Kit sucked Darius’s earlobe into his mouth. Just for a second. “I’m starving.”
He liked this. Flirting, clinging close from behind, savoring Darius’s warmth—without needing to control his facial expressions. No worries that his eyes were too cold, his smile too empty.
“We ‘fed’ you plenty earlier,” Darius said, stretching his neck beneath Kit’s wandering fingers.
Kit’s ass and throat would testify to that. “You fed me cock. But I want garlic bread. Did anyone order the pizza yet?”
“Bishop’s picking it up,” Darius said. “He should be here in twenty, garlic bread included.”
Kit froze. Just for a second. He toyed with the shell of Darius’s ear. “I didn’t know Bishop was coming over.”
“Sorry, I thought I told you.” Darius caught Kit’s hand and twisted around to face him. “Is that okay?”
“Of course,” Kit said immediately, forcing a grin. Too forced. Fuck. Kit switched gears to a dramatic sigh. “I’m just adjusting my plans to seduce my boyfriends at halftime.”
Darius smirked, dark gaze dropping to Kit’s kiss-bruised throat. “I can send him back.”
Kit slipped from Darius’s grasp to wag a finger. “Not before he delivers my garlic bread.”
Darius smirk melted into a laugh. Kit kissed the top of his head once, twice, three times, before Darius escaped to the kitchen. As dishes rattled into shelves, Kit retreated upstairs.
Slowly. Not running.
Heart pounding, Kit stopped at the upstairs landing. The arched window gave a perfect view of the front gate.
Darius was meticulous. He double-checked everything, unless he triple-checked. Maybe he really forgot to mention Bishop coming over. Why would he hide it on purpose?
Were they planning something?
Kit resented his own suspicions. He wanted to trust Darius, and he hated how paranoid Bishop made him.
No. Don’t think like that. Kit wasn’t paranoidenough.
Anger flickered, a tiny flame in Kit’s numb heart. How dare Bishop interfere with his tenuous peace? Nosy fucking bastard. Kit yearned for a confrontation. He wanted to scream at the asshole. Bishop had no right to run his DNA.
But Kit couldn’t say anything. Bringing it up would make Bishop ask how Kit knew. Every question would unravel new questions.
All Kit could do was seethe as Bishop’s car pulled up to the gate. Tonight was going to be awkward as hell.
