Another laugh exploded out of Raiden. He glanced up and down the street, making sure the assholes weren’t regrouping, then wiped the dirt off his jeans. “Then you’ve got nothing to apologize for. I’m happy to punch any racists that come after you, Lawrence. Now come on, let me walk you home. We should probably take a new route, just to be safe.”
Lawrence grinned, his cheeks even rounder than usual. “Okay. Thanks, Raiden.”
They started in the opposite direction down the street, passing empty storefronts and brownstones. The streetlights cast a muted gray across the neighborhood, and it was late enough that even in Chelsea, the sidewalks were largely empty.
“Are you hurt badly?” Lawrence asked.
Raiden shook his fist out. “Nothing more than some bruising, I don’t expect. And you’re sure you’re okay?”
“I am. You were there so fast they barely laid a hand on me.”
Raiden grunted, satisfied to hear that. “Just give me a heads-up next time you might have a couple goons tracking you down.”
Lawrence stumbled, then caught himself on a newspaper box. “I had no idea, I swear.”
Realizing how drunk Lawrence was, Raiden took his arm to steady him. “Have you ever taken a self-defense class? I could teach you a couple of things, if you want.”
Lawrence glanced up, his chocolate-brown eyes watery. “Sure, if you’re offering,” he said, then stumbled over his feet again.
Raiden caught him. “Maybe balance lessons first.”
Lawrence stuck out his tongue. “Or dancing lessons. Are you really going to go to every hot club in New York and never dance with me?” he pouted.
“You think I dance to music like that?”
“I think you could.” Lawrence started bouncing his hips, butting up against Raiden with each sway. “Or don’t you like me, Raiden?”
Raiden tried pretending he was a rock, totally incapable of desire. “I like you just fine,” he said.
“Like, how do you like me?”
“How do I like you?”
“The way you like an ice cream cone, maybe?”
Raiden thought about it, then laughed. “Sure, Lawrence. I like you like I like an ice cream cone.”
“Ha!” Lawrence shouted, then bumped his hips against Raiden again. “You want to lick me.”
A rock, Raiden reminded himself. No matter how much he suddenly wanted to tug down Lawrence’s pants and smack his butt, Raiden’s job was to remain a rock.
“Anyway,” Lawrence sang as they rounded another corner, “I know you like me. Do you know how?”
“How?”
“Because of the way you look at me. You’re not just watching me the way a bodyguard would watch someone. You’re watching me like you like me.”
A truck passed, rumbling toward the Avenue. “How do you know I don’t look at everyone that way?”
“Trust me,” Lawrence said. “I’ve given that eye to a lot of men. I can tell.”
“You gave it to about twenty men tonight, I noticed,” Raiden grumbled.
Lawrence laughed. “You do care. But did you notice I kept saving all my best looks for you?” He sucked his top lip between his teeth, then bit down on it with a moan, eyeing Raiden just like he had on the dance floor. “This look is just for you, Raiden,” he whimpered.
Raiden was grinning, so he had to turn away. At least, side by side, Lawrence couldn’t see the growing bulge in his pants. But as soon as he thought about Lawrence on the dance floor with all of those other guys, he was jolted by jealousy. “You’ve got a good pout, kid, but I think you’ve met your match. I wouldn’t be worth shit as a bodyguard if I fell for that.”
Lawrence whimpered again. He pressed his body up close to Raiden, almost like he was going to hump him right there while they walked down the street. Raiden turned his eyes straight ahead, then whistled a little tune. “Nice weather tonight, though,” he said casually.
