Page 37 of Say It Again
Aaron nodded. “And hey, I’m flattered to appear on every page, but honestly, Daniel, no one uses the term stud muffin anymore.”
Daniel’s lips curled into a smirk. “What about beefcake?”
“Are you an eighty-year-old Southern woman? Leave the dates up to me.” He patted Daniel’s chest. “You just worry about looking cute and doing the thing boys like you do.”
“Boys like me?” Daniel arched an eyebrow. “What do we do?”
He grinned as he twisted one of Daniel’s curls around his finger. “Pretend like you don’t see the check get dropped off.”
Daniel huffed in laughter. “Okay, I can’t even be insulted. I’m stealthy as hell at that.”
“I’d be disappointed if you weren’t.”
“So, when’s our next date, hmm?” Daniel reached up to dance his fingertips over Aaron’s lips. “You taking me out, mister?”
His smile faltered a bit. There for a beat, he’d almost forgotten that this—sitting here in his house, talking about the future, growing fonder of him by the minute—wasn’t reality. Reality was waiting for him outside like a skilled hitman.
One more date. He could enjoy him for one more date. No harm had ever come from a single date. Maybe he’d wait to deal with the contract until after the one more date, and then he’d leave him alone forever. That was the new plan. Brilliant at plans, he was.
He kissed Daniel’s fingertips. “I’d love to take you out, kid.”
“To your favorite tree stump in the woods?”
He continued kissing, smudging his mark over Daniel’s delicate wrist and arm. “To my favorite radiator.”
Daniel’s face split into an absurd grin. Way too wide. Way too elated. “I’ll bring the handcuffs.”
Chapter Nine
LATER THAT week, Aaron was struggling to move a federal judge’s arm off his chest without waking him. He’d wiggled all the way to the edge of the bed. He was almost there. If he could hold his breath. If he could snake a bit farther. If he could inch one more inch, he’d be the winner in peace-out limbo.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Dammit. Busted. He patted the guy’s arm. “I was hoping I could take off a little early.”
His client squinted at his watch. “Not going to happen, boy. We have another eleven minutes.”
Eleven minutes wasn’t anything to be so melancholic over, but Aaron barely stifled a groan as he sank back into the bed.
“Excuse me, young man.” His client propped himself up to his elbow and arched a silver eyebrow. Maybe Aaron didn’t stifle that groan. “You have somewhere better to be?”
Yes. There were about one thousand better places than right here, and that was on an ordinary evening. Tonight wasn’t ordinary. Tonight, he had a special little date with a special little dancer.
Just because it was their last date—one more date—until he got the contract handled didn’t mean he couldn’t look forward to it. What was so wrong with looking forward to it with every pound of his body until he wanted to scream that he was wasting precious time in this knucklehead’s bed?
He glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the bedroom. Who put a grandfather clock in their bedroom? It didn’t work in the otherwise modern space. If he ever had the privilege of designing a space like this, it’d be a masterpiece. “Nowhere better to be.”
His client’s expression twisted into a skeptical frown. “Yeah, I’m not feeling the love today, Aaron.”
“My apologies.” He lightened his tone and feigned a smile. “There’s nowhere better than right here.”
“Eh.” His client scrunched his nose and tipped his head to the side. “Still not entirely convinced. What can you do to convince me?”
Yeah, because it was a lie. They both knew it was a lie. A white-bread generic mockery of a sham. So why make him plod away at niceties? Answer: men and their fucking egos.
Aaron’s face may or may not have exposed his annoyance as he rolled on top of his client and whispered, “You’re so sexy, baby. God, you’re sexy.”
Now was a good time to run through his grocery list. He needed avocados, Roma tomatoes, and aluminum foil. He needed garbanzo beans and a red onion. That sounded like a delightful salad.