Given what I’d found in the kitchen, his lack of perfection somehow made him even more attractive. His sort-of dried hair stood at odd angles, reminding me of children after their mom runs a towel overtheir heads and turns them loose. His grin was lopsided, and that towel around his waist was begging to fall.
Or was that me begging for it to fall?
“Here,” I said, remembering how to speak. “Let me pour you a glass.”
He finished with the hand towel, tossing it onto the stairs, then leaned against the cable-banister. “I’m really not thirsty . . . for wine, at least.”
I took a long sip, gulped it down, then thought,Fuck it, and drained the glass.
His grin widened. “Come over here.”
I set the glass down and rounded the counter, coming within a few feet of where he stood.
“Come closer.”
I took a step forward.
His head cocked. “Closer.”
My mouth went dry. When had that happened?
I took another step forward, within arm’s reach.
Still, he didn’t move.
“Not close enough yet.” He raised his index finger and did the universal “come hither” thing.
It was like reeling in a catch with fishing line. I was helpless to resist. Before I realized it, I was standing so close to this almost-naked man that I could feel his breath on my face.
“Good boy,” he said, reaching up with one handand lightly gripping the back of my head. “I like a man who does what he’s told.”
I was a confident guy, and I wasn’t new to the gay world. I’d met—and slept with—my share of men. But Chase? This guy had me so flummoxed I barely knew what to say. I blinked as he stared . . . and dripped onto the hardwood. My gaze fell to the tiny pool beneath his towel.
“Oops. Looks like I didn’t dry myself very well.” He looked down. “And I’m guessing you’ve already discovered how much I hate a mess.”
I swallowed hard.
“Dry that for me, would you?”
I looked at Chase, then down at the water, then at the discarded towel on the stairs. The moment I made to walk around him to retrieve the towel, he said, “Not with that towel, with this one.” He pointed to the one tied about his waist.
More water dripped from unseen body parts.
I blinked a dozen more times . . . and gulped twice.
“But . . . you’re . . . I mean . . .”
His tone turned stern. “Finn, I need you to be a good boy and dry that mess. I promise to reward you for your effort.”
Slowly, my hand raised, and I gripped the top of his towel. His skin was warm against my fingers, and I wanted to run my hand all over him, feel every inchof muscle and hair and—
“Go on,” he urged.
My other hand came up. Together, my hands undid the towel and held it as it lost its grip. I looked up to find Chase staring intently. His hand found my hair, and my whole body shivered beneath his touch.
The towel came away in my hands, revealing a beautiful, veiny cock nested in a tuft of sandy blond curls.
“The water, please,” he said, a touch of amusement threading his command. “You can worship him when your job’s done.”
