“You’ll have to date me to find out.”
Othello responded with a smirk that Des couldn’t figure out. They stared at each other, and he could feel the air crackling between them. Des wanted to straddle Othello’s legs and kiss him hard while rutting against his cock.
Fuck, I need to do something before I embarrass myself.
Des stood and grabbed the dishes, but Othello placed a gentle hand on his. His breath caught in his chest, and he raised his gaze to meet honey-colored eyes. “Let me do it,” he said. “You cooked. Go sit on the couch. I’ll be there after I put these in the dishwasher.”
Des nodded and did what he was told. He tried to get comfortable but couldn’t. He kept looking back at Othello, who seemed completely unfazed, as if he hadn’t noticed anything happening between them. Hoping to get his mind off his wandering thoughts, Des grabbed the remote sitting on thecoffee table and switched on the television. The news was on, and the second the reporter mentioned his father, Des turned it off, throwing the remote to the couch.
Even after switching his profession, he hadn’t heard from his parents. He guessed they were too busy trying to take over the world to notice. At the moment, his father was down in the polls and, by all appearance, wouldn’t win. But who knew what his parents had up their sleeves?
Des also noticed that since quitting his job, he hadn’t been wallowing in self-pity about Mr. Alverez. He wondered if that made him a terrible person, but he had been too caught up in living his new life, trying to put the past behind him. Funny enough, since leaving his job, he had been getting calls from private medical firms and corporations offering him a job. Even his grandpa, Douglas, offered him a position in his company as the head of the research department. Des wouldn’t deny that it was weird that his grandfather would call him when they didn’t have a relationship whatsoever. Des couldn’t help but think it was his parents’ doing. He couldn’t chance working for his family again, so he turned all the jobs down.
Although he had money thanks to his grandfather, and with all his plans for the future, Des didn't want to run out of money. Although he wasn't looking for stardom, it didn't mean he didn't want to sell his paintings, but he was nowhere ready for all of that. In all honesty, he shouldn’t even be thinking about wanting a relationship with anyone, much less Othello, with how flaky he'd been lately, but he would be a fool if he didn’t try and get the man to notice how good they could be together.
He was so lost in thought that he gasped in surprise when he felt something cold graze his bottom lip. Slowly, he turned his headand connected again, this time with eyes that reminded him of the sweetest honey.
“Bite,” Othello softly ordered.
Not taking his eyes off him, Des parted his lips and gently bit into the tip of the strawberry, sucking the juices into his mouth. He moaned as the sweet and slightly tart liquid filled his mouth.
“Does it taste good?”
Des was certain he nodded, but when Othello chuckled and then spoke, he realized he hadn’t said anything.
“So?” he said. “How does it taste?”
“Sweet,” Des whispered, finally finding his voice.
“Really?” He quirked a brow. “Maybe I should taste it for myself.”
Before he could ask what he meant, Othello licked the corner of his lips and groaned deeply, as if liking what he tasted. Des’s breath hitched, and his eyes widened, but the fruit was removed before he could comprehend what was happening. Othello's tongue swept into his open mouth, sucking and savoring the strawberry flavor off Des's tongue, pulling a deep moan from him. Des panted, feeling breathless as Othello went from sucking on his tongue to nibbling on his bottom lip before pecking at him gently on the mouth, making him tingle, then pressing their mouths together.
Their eyes remained open. He could feel the air crackling around them. Othello’s gaze was so intense it felt like he was peering deep into his soul, burning with desire for him. Des wanted to close his eyes, but he couldn’t. He felt trapped in a web of need and lust. Just one touch from Othello and Des was hookedon the man. Just when Des thought Othello was about to take their kiss further, he pulled back, releasing his mouth, to his disappointment. Before he could complain, Othello cupped his cheek, grazing his face with his thumb.
“It was you, wasn’t it?”
“What?” Des asked, thoroughly confused.
“When I was in the hospital, I thought I had died and gone to heaven, only to be greeted by an angel with bright green eyes, but now I know it was you.”
“Yes,” Des answered, not playing coy. “It happens to patients sometimes…” Othello placed a finger to cut off his rambling.
“I don’t care about that,” he said, removing his finger.
“Oh,” Des said, turning his head away. “When did you figure it out?”
Othello turned his face back with a finger. “Does it matter?”
Des chewed on his bottom lip, staring into Othello’s eyes. “I guess not.”
“Des—”
“Othello—”
They chuckled, realizing they’d spoken simultaneously.
“Go ahead,” Othello said.
