“I can’t stop thinking about you,” I say before he answers.
He steps around the table and sits down beside me, just a foot or so between us.
“No?” he asks, his eyes flitting to my lips.
“No,” I tell him. “I can’t…get you out of my head. The way…” I cut myself off and close my eyes, groaning softly.
“The way I taste,” he finishes my sentence.
I nod slowly.
“I can’t stop thinking about you either, Alek,” he admits. “No matter how hard I try.”
“Maybe we’re not trying hard enough,” I say with my eyes still closed. I’m scared about what I’ll do if I open them.
I feel Tommy move closer to me. I smell him. Musky and warm.
My dick throbs in my jeans and I dig my fingers into the fabric over my thigh.
“I’ve never felt so drawn to anyone in my life, Alek,” Tommy tells me. “It’s…it’s fuckin’ ridiuclous I know, but…” His words fade off and I want to tell him he’s right. That it is ridiuclous and I don’t feel the same, but I can’t.
I could blame him being tipsy for what he’s saying, but even I know he’s barely tipsy now after one drink just a few seconds ago. And I definitely can’t blame alcohol for how I’m feeling.
“It’s not ridiuclous,” I tell him, voice low. “I’m drawn to you too, Tommy.”
I open my eyes and finally look into his. “I shouldn’t be.”
“I know,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t be either, but I can’t help it. Every time you’re around, I want to be closer to you. I want to breathe in your scent…I want to feel you against me. That’s not it, though. I want to know you, Aleksandr. I’ve never really wanted to know anyone in my life. Not like this.”
I swallow hard and find my other hand slowly moving between us to where his hand is. I brush my fingers along his knuckles. They’re scarred and scabbed, but it doesn’t bother me.
“Why shouldn’t you be?” I ask him curiously. “I see guilt in your eyes when I look at you, but I don’t know what it’s about. I know what I carry, but…it can’t possibly be the same thing you do.”
“I’ve noticed something going on with you,” Tommy admits. “I wasn’t really sure if it was guilt or not, but now I am. It’s…stupid. It makes no sense, I’ve never felt guilty about much in my life, but this? I feel like I’m betraying my family somehow when we’re together.”
“Betraying them…” I mumble. “Because of how this could turn out?”
“I guess,” he admits with a shrug. “I feel like I should be doing my work instead of messing around with you, but it’s starting to feel like what we’re doing is more than that.”
“More than messing around,” I whisper. My heart squeezes hard in my chest and I slowly brush my finger tips from his battered knuckles to his wrist. “Is it wrong if I feel the same way?” I ask him.
“Maybe,” he whispers in return and I feel him lean in closer to me but I shake my head and lean back. “We can’t.”
“I haven’t felt so desperate for anyone in my life, Alek,” he tells me. “It can’t be wrong. I didn’t even feel this way about my ex-boyfriend.”
“Your ex?” I ask.
Tommy nods slowly. “We weren’t together very long, but longer than I’d ever been with anyone. Six months. I thought…what we had was love, but I’m not sure anymore. It doesn’t matter though, he died two years ago,” he explains, and I see the way he’s trying to make it out like it’s nothing. The tightness in his neck and shoulders.
“Tommy,” I tell him. “How did he die?” I watch him take a slow breath.
“It was on a job. I didn’t want him there, but he insisted on being there. He worked as one of our guards,” he says, his voice cracking slightly. “He was shot and there wasn’t anything anyone could do. He got to the hospital too late.”
My heart aches in my chest and I struggle not to lean closer to him, not to slide my arm around his back and draw him in.
“You did care about him,” I remark. “You wouldn’t be struggling to tell me about it if you didn’t.”
“You think I don’t know that?” he asks me. “Of course, I fucking cared about him. But…it was never like this. I never felt…”
