Before Ezra could escape, Linc noted a leftover article in Ezra’s just abandoned dryer. A lone pair of silky pink panties. When he lifted the material, it was obvious they were made for a man. Linc gasped inwardly, remembering the feel of something silky under Ezra’s tux pants New Year’s Eve. He’d suspected as much, but seeing his suspicions confirmed sent a jolt through his body. His cock thickened at the thought of seeing Ezra wearing the panties.
And nothing else.
He hung the lacy material from one elevated finger and turned toward Ezra’s retreating back. “Forget something?”
At the foot of the stairs, Ezra spun. He observed Linc’s finger before his eyes grew wide and his face beet red. He lowered his laundry basket, marched over, and swiped the panties from Linc’s finger. “They’re my sister’s.”
“Your sister has a cock?”
Ezra’s scandalized gaze flicked to his.
“There looks like there’s room in there for one, is all. I mean, if she has a cock, more power to her. No judgement here.”
Ezra blinked at him, silent a moment. “That’s really none of your business,” he snarled angrily before he backed away and turned for the stairs.
Linc shook his head, unsure what he should say to that, if anything. Before he could think better, he said, “I bet they look good on you.”
Ezra stopped midway up the stairs.
Linc held his breath, hoping the guy would turn around. Smile. Something to give him an ounce of hope. The seconds ticked by…
But then Ezra continued up the stairs, leaving him alone.
Fuck.
Ezra stood with his back against the laundry room door, his heart beating madly. Why the fuck didn’t I turn around? I should’ve turned around.
But what if he remembers me?
It would be too humiliating if he ever figured it out.
Ezra launched himself from the door and scrambled up to his apartment. After lowering the basket to the nearest armchair, he eyed the incriminating pair of panties lying on top. What he wouldn’t give to be able to show them off to Lincoln, but there was no way that was happening. Not after the embarrassment of a lifetime.
What the fuck had he done in a past life to have karma dealing him such a bad hand?
Chapter 3
February 9
Ezra awakened, shaking uncontrollably. The cold was bone-chilling, and that was under his thick comforter and flannel sheets. His eyes cleared and focused on the alarm clock beside him announcing it was 2:15 a.m. As he rose from his bed, he could see his breath in the shaft of light coming through a break in the curtains. Outside, the wind roared and raged. He peeked outside, watching as another furious storm was battering the city.
Dragging on the cardigan he’d been wearing earlier that day, he scuffled to the thermostat and saw the thing was set to a balmy sixty-eight. He cranked it up to seventy-two, but nothing happened. He hit a few of the buttons, trying to see if it had somehow been shut off with no luck. Peeping into the in the hallway outside his front door, he found it was warmer than inside his apartment. Ezra hurried downstairs and knocked on the super’s door.
Nothing but silence answered his knock, so he banged a little louder.
A minute passed. He banged again.
The door across from the super’s apartment opened. Of course, the super lived in 1B—directly across from 1A.
A sleepy-looking, tousled, shirtless, sweatpants-wearing Lincoln stood in the door frame, appearing too damned warm and fuckable. He rubbed one eye with the palm of his hand. “What’s wrong?”
Ezra turned his back to Lincoln, trying to ignore the all too delicious view stirring him. “None of your concern.”
“Are you okay?”
Ezra sighed. He hugged himself, still feeling the chill. “I have no heat in my apartment.” He banged on the super’s door once more. “Why is he never around when you need him?”
“You could always hang out in here,” Lincoln murmured, that slow drawl even slower with the hint of sleep to his tone. The sound caused a shiver to race up Ezra’s spine.
“My place is warm.”
Ezra blanched. “No… no, I’m fine.” He banged again.
“Seriously… he’s apparently not going to answer tonight, at least not before you’ve woken up the entire building. I’ve got a warm apartment and a comfy couch where you can sleep. By morning, maybe he’ll answer his door.”
Ezra eyed Lincoln over one shoulder, tempted. Lincoln looked too damned gorgeous for words. His breathing quickened at the thought of being in the same space as the man. What happened the last time whispered through his mind, setting his teeth on edge. Familiar shame warmed his cheeks. Ezra banged one last time, praying the super would answer.
No luck.
“I appreciate the offer… but… I’ll be fine.” Without waiting for a reply, he escaped upstairs to his frigid apartment before he ended up drooling over Lincoln. He shivered the second he walked inside. After replacing the cardigan with a heavier sweater, as well as a jacket, hat, and gloves, he felt a bit warmer.
Once he had donned all that, a knock came to the door and he prayed it was the super. He raced over and whipped the door open.
To find Lincoln filling up the entire frame.
Holding a tiny space heater.
He lifted it. “It’s not much, but maybe it’ll help.” He frowned, eyeing Ezra’s outerwear. “Come on… really? My apartment has gotta be better than you wearing all that. I swear I won’t bite.”
Maybe I want you to bite me. Ezra grimaced. Stop. Just stop.
“You’d really rather hole up here in the Arctic Tundra than come downstairs? I promise you’ll be safe.”
Ezra considered Lincoln a moment. Then he deliberated on the offer again, gazing about his glacial apartment. He ticked off the pros. I’d be warm. Lincoln still doesn’t seem to recognize me. If I play it cool, I might be able to make it out unscathed for one night. “Yeah… maybe.”
A slow, sexy smile crossed Lincoln’s face, that same one that had driven him nuts since New Year’s… the same one he’d seen in his dreams much, much too often. “Is that a yes?”
He opened his mouth but hesitated a brief moment.
“It’s a yes,” Lincoln agreed, nodding. He motioned toward the stairs with a toss of his head. “Come on… let’s get you warmed up.”
Lincoln ambled toward the steps, gazing over one shoulder. “I’ve got a fire going. I’ve also got the fixin’s for hot cider. Or better yet, hot cocoa. You like cocoa.”
“Who said I like cocoa?”
“You had some in your grocery bag… and you look like the cocoa type.” A grin played over his lips, and a shiver raced up Ezra’s spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
“There’s a cocoa type?”
“Oh, most definitely. Boys typically like cocoa.”
“Boys?” Ezra asked, one brow rising.
Humor twinkled in Lincoln’s blue eyes. “As opposed to daddies.”
Ezra fought a smile. “Which one are you?”
That syrupy smile spread like molasses once more. “Oh, I’m very much a daddy.”