I said his name. He didn’t answer, just adjusted his grip, and I stopped forming words.
My thoughts scattered. It had been too long since I’d experienced such pleasure delivered by another man. Specific images surfaced randomly. The cold brew Thiago acquired by unknown means. His pen rolling off the counter edge.
“Luca.” His deep, quiet voice pulled me back.
I looked down at him. “Come here,” I said.
He rose in one motion, and I pulled him up and kissed him before he’d fully straightened, tasting myself on his mouth. I pushed him back toward the bed, and we tumbled onto it together.
I reached into Thiago’s jeans while he gripped me again. We stroked each other, and it didn’t take long.
When our orgasms broke over us, we were quiet, recognizing Dominic’s presence down the hall. I held on while Thiago’s body shuddered, and his warm cum spread across my knuckles.
Afterward, Thiago lay half over me, one hand open and heavy across my stomach, his breathing gradually slowing. He lifted his head and looked at me.
“That,” he said quietly, “was unexpected.”
I brushed my thumb once across the furrowed line between his brows. “No, not entirely.”
“Agreed.”
He rested his head on my shoulder and closed his eyes. The threat remained. The Orpheum remained. None of this changed that. But in the dark, with Thiago’s weight real against me, I was calm.
I hadn’t expected that.
When I came downstairs the next morning, Thiago was already in the kitchen, pouring coffee.
“You’re wearing the shirt you wore yesterday,” I said.
“I packed for four days.”
I accepted the mug he held out before I reached the counter. “How long are you staying?”
“Until the concert.”
“That’s seven more days. And after?”
He sipped and looked at me over the rim of his mug.
“I’ll address that when I get there.”
“That is a very Thiago answer.”
“Is that a complaint?”
“Not yet.”
Chapter twelve
Thiago
“Your flight landed early,” I said.
“It did,” Eamon replied. “You sound delighted.”
I was standing in Luca’s doorway with my phone against my ear and one hand trying to coax my shirt into something that resembled order. The buttons were not cooperating.
“How early?” I asked.
