Page 89 of King of Hollywood
The next time I saw Felix, I showed up with a plan. I’d spent all summer researching, thank you porn writers, and I was ready to take our relationship to the next level. Which was why I purchased a pizza delivery man uniform from Amazon.
And also why I bought an actual pizza to go with it—in preparation.
It’d been difficult to find something in my size, but I’d managed.
I was supposed to be going over to Felix’s house for the night. We were going to watch movies. Movies he told me would be…enlightening. You know what is also enlightening? My dick. This pizza box. And the box full of condoms Winnie had given me.
I rang the doorbell, pizza in hand, feeling ridiculous-stupid-idiotic-in-love as I waited for him to answer. Like usual, it was after dark. The block was quiet aside from a house a few down. A couple kids were out playing basketball by porch light. The thump, thump of the ball hitting the ground filled the air as I waited.
If Barry saw me I’d never live this down.
At least from a distance it was impossible to tell that I was not, in fact, a real delivery man. But Marshall, the block’s resident “thirty-eight-year-old-grump.”
When Felix pulled the door open, he had a sunny but nervous smile on his face.
That smile died a slow, painful death as he stared at me. His eyes flickered up to my pizza cap, my polo with its logo, and down to the box that I was holding. “I…don’t understand.” It seemed I’d broken Felix’s brain.
“Hello, neighbor.” Fuck. Shit. I wasn’t supposed to say that. I wasn’t supposed to acknowledge that we were neighbors. Fuck. Retract. “I mean—customer.”
“Um.” Felix stared at me some more, stepping back inside to make room for me, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“I am your delivery man.” Why was he not getting this?
Hopefully he did not have mace.
I didn’t know how much more obvious I could be.
Was sex not the obvious conclusion to take from this? I was a delivery man. Therefore, Felix should be inviting me in—telling me how hot I looked—and trying to hop on my dick. I squinted at him, trying to figure out if he was teasing me or not.
Maybe I needed to pose sexier?
I stepped inside the house, making sure to check behind me. When I’d confirmed that no one was watching from the street through the little stained glass window at the side of his door, I leaned against the wall on my elbow and struck—what I hoped—was an enticing pose.
Felix did not look enticed.
He still looked confused.
“What is happening?” He laughed, eyes dancing with mirth. “Did you get a new job—?” He blinked. “Speaking of, you’ve never told me where you work.”
“I’m CFO of a pharmaceutical company,” I answered automatically. “And no. This is not my job.” How was he not getting this? I had thought this was a fool-proof plan.
I wanted to fuck him, dammit.
Why hadn’t he fallen for my charms?
I squinted at him some more. “Why aren’t you getting naked?” I asked, point blank, pizza box still in hand. “I’m seducing you.”
Felix blinked at me like I’d grown a second head. “Is that what’s happening?”
“Obviously,” I gestured with my free hand to my pizza outfit. “I’m the delivery boy. You’re supposed to swoon and ask me in.”
“I am?” Felix blinked, then his lips curled up into an amused grin. He was dressed for the day, unfortunately. Not in that silky, slinky pajama set that shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was.
“You are.” I waited for him to correct his behavior, but it seemed to be taking him a moment. Maybe he needed more instruction? God knows, I did. “You’re supposed to let me in, swoon—” I repeated, more slowly this time. “And then…when I’ve successfully wooed you…” My gaze dragged over his shoulders, down his supple chest to the tiny waist I knew—firsthand—was tight and the perfect size to grip. I licked my lips. “I’m supposed to get to fuck you.”
Felix’s eyes flooded dark, a sharp little exhale leaving him.
He’d had a visitor the night before.