Greene frowns, perplexed. “But Axford’s a part-timer. He’s a chef, really?—”
“He is. He also has more than a decade of experience at this job, can clear a room faster than most career guys, and once carried a two-hundred-pound man down three flights of stairs without stopping. He’s ahellof a firefighteranda guy you can count on. If you can’t respect that?—”
“No, I can!” Greene assures me. “I totally can. I’ll… I’ll do whatever he says. Promise.”
“Then we’ll have this conversation again in thirty days,” I warn him. “Make sure I get good reports from the senior crew, Greene, because I don’t do third chances.”
He nods eagerly.
“For now, get started detailing Engine 1. I’ll send Metier and Ruiz over when they finish changing.”
Greene gets up to leave… which is when I notice that I forgot to close my office door, and Ames has taken up residence in the doorway. He’s leaning against the metal doorframe, arms folded over his chest, biceps bulging like…
Nope. Fucking nope.
Ames and Greene exchange nods as Greene passes, and then Ames comes in and shuts the door.
It might be the first time in my life that I’m not thrilled to be in a room with him.
He’s fully dressed now, but it doesn’t matter. What’s been seen cannot be unseen. The ghost image of him shirtless in the locker room is imprinted over him now, and echoes of want call back and forth across my brain.
I need someone who’s in my corner and will suck my dick while he’s there.
I need someone who?—
“Well, that was enlightening.” Ames leans back against the closed door.
My eyes flash to his. “What? No! I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I meant your conversation with Greene.” Ames frowns. “I overheard what you said.”
I can’t look at him. If I do, he’ll see it written all over my face that I… that I…
What? What exactly will he see? What even is this?
“You have a problem with me letting him off easy?” I manage.
“No, that’s not—I didn’t come here to fight, Rob. When I said it was enlightening, I meant the nice stuff you said about me.” Ames tries for a smile that doesn’t quite land. “I, ah, I kinda worried you might hate me, after yesterday. Wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
“Hate you.” I am two hundred-plus pounds of confusion, on every level. I have no idea what he means. “Hate you?”
“Yeah.” He comes further into the room and takes the seat Greene vacated. “I was an asshole yesterday. More than the usual level of Ames Axford Assholery that you’ve come to, ah, expect and love.” He licks his lips nervously.
I bet they don’t taste like vanilla.Which begs the question, what do they ta?—
“I’m sorry, Robbie. I shouldn’t have said… fuck, probably most of what I said. I don’t remember all of it, honestly. I’ve kinda blocked it out. But I definitely shouldn’t have said the part about?—”
“Wanting someone to suck your dick?” I challenge. I’m clutching the arms of my chair, but beneath my desk, where he can’t see.
Ames’s face turns beet red, which is strangely satisfying.
“Wow. Okay. So we’re going there.” He straightens in his seat. “Yes. That. For starters. I purposely don’t talk in, ah, detail like that around you because you’re straight, and I don’t want you to feel weird?—”
“Liar. I once listened to a whole conversation between you and Beckett about whether Pedro Pascal is a top or a bottom. You made some pretty compelling arguments for soft top, but Beckett said that was wishful thinking on your part.”
Ames’s face goes even redder in a way that makes my heart pound. “That’s not… I can’t be responsible for what you hear while eavesdropping, Robert.”
“In your parents’ kitchen?” I shoot back. “During their Super Bowl party?”
