There was a plate of grapes, a plate of cheese, a plate of crackers, some strawberries. He went straight for the crackers and cheese, followed by a few grapes and then a strawberry. “Not allergic,” he mumbled, but he was clearly hungry. He must have rushed over here—from where, I didn’t know—when he realised he was going to be late.
I put a bottle of water in front of him and picked up a strawberry, biting into it. It was juicy and sweet, and then it was his turn to stare at me. Well, at my mouth. And when I took another bite, he leaned in and kissed me, tasting the strawberry juice on my lips.
“Mmm,” he said, his eyes alight. “Sweet.”
“I am, thank you.” He was making short work of the cheese and crackers, so I went to the fridge. “I have leftover Thai from last night; if you want it, it’s yours. Or I can order you anything you want.”
He washed down a cracker with some water. “No, this is great, thank you. I should have eaten before but I got side-tracked. Once I realised the time I ran over here.”
“So, do you live even remotely close?” I picked at another strawberry. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me where you live, obviously. I just wondered if it takes you two hours to get here . . .”
“Two hours? God, no.” He smiled. “Do you think you’re worth a two-hour commute once a week?”
“I know I am.”
He laughed. “I’m inclined to agree. I would take a two-hour commute once a week to get here. If I had to. But I don’t. Takes me ten minutes, tops.”
I found myself smiling at him. He would commute for two hours to see me . . . that was unexpectedly sweet and I liked that. But ten minutes, be it walk or drive, put him in the city at least.
“Anyway,” he furthered, “I don’t mind. I know where you live, so it’s only fair, right?”
“Agreed.” Now we were getting somewhere. “But it’s up to you. If we’re doing the whole anonymous thing.”
“The anonymous thing is fun, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“Even though I’m curious.”
“Same.”
He smiled as he ate some more cheese. “I’m staying at a hotel in Circular Quay right now. I was away for two years.”
“Prison?” I joked. Christ, I shouldn’t have said that. What if it was? “God. Don’t answer that.”
He barked out a laugh. “No, not prison. Singapore. Other places, but mostly Singapore.”
The natural question to follow that would be ‘Oh, what were you doing there?’ but keeping things anonymous made that difficult. “Such a beautiful place. Was it work or pleasure?”
He made a face as though he considered not answering. After a beat, he said, “Work.”
“Lucky.” I popped a grape in my mouth and chewed, trying to think of how to be discrete. “I’m trying to not ask personal questions. It’s kind of hard.”
He smiled and ate some more cheese. “I’ve been back for three weeks and I’m throwing myself into a work thing. It’s a good distraction.”
“Just three weeks . . . But this is our third weekend.”
“I got back; my friends were going out. I went with them to catch up. Saw you.” He sipped his water, still smiling. “It had been a little while for me.”
“And that might explain the three times in one-night thing, but then you backed it up the next weekend.”
“And I did hint at maybe twice might be the new norm,” he said. “Three times is a lot of pressure.”
“You might doubt your ability, but I don’t.”
He chuckled and aimed that smug smile right at me, making my heart stutter. “You always get what you want?”
“Mostly.” I shrugged. “Not to say I don’t work hard for it, because I do. I’m very good at what I do.”
His gaze never left mine, so intense, so full of humour and daring. “And what is it that you do?”
“I . . . work hard.”
He chuckled again, and picking up a strawberry, he put it to my lips. I took it into my mouth and he kissed me, tasting it for himself. He licked his lips, watching my mouth before looking into my eyes. “Do you love what you do?”
“I wouldn’t do it otherwise.”
“I like that answer. And you play the anonymity game well.”
I smiled at that. “It’s surprising, to be honest, given I’ve never played it before.”
“Never?”
“Never had to.”
He kind of flinched, just for a split second, like that might have hurt to hear. “Is it not fun for you?”
“It’s a lot of fun for me. What about you?”
“Oh, I like it.” His smile was back. “It keeps it uncomplicated.”
“It does.” I took a deep breath and steeled myself. “Though, can I ask you something?”
He studied me for a long-drawn-out second. “You can ask, but if I can answer without giving too much away might be the real question.”
“Fair enough.” I met his gaze. “Are you out? Do people in your life know you like to have sex with a guy?”
He took a moment to answer. “Yes. People know.”
“Okay. Cool. Not that it would bother me. It’s a deeply personal thing, and I just wondered if that was part of the reason for the anonymity.”
“I’m going to assume people know you’re gay or bi, or whatever,” he said.
“Why would you assume that?”
“Because you exude confidence. I can’t imagine you not being direct about anything.”
Interesting. “Confidence?”
“Yep. On anyone else it’d be arrogance. But not on you.”
I smiled at that. “Well, I can be arrogant too. And what was it? Bossy. Isn’t that what you called me?”
“It is. It’s in my phone, so it stays.”
I raised my chin. “It’s true. I am bossy. So I can’t even be mad about it.”
“You called me Sexy as Fuck.”
“Because you are. And it’s in my phone, so it stays.” I waved my hand at his torso, at the towel, at his face. “Exhibit A, your honour.”
His eyes lit up. “Oh, you’re a lawyer?”
I laughed. “Nope.”
“No?”
“Not even close. Just making a point.” I put my hand on his chest, swiping my thumb across his nipple, watching the skin prickle in my wake. “So fucking sexy.”
He pulled my robe open and hummed. “So, tell me, Bossy. What did you want for round two?”
“I’m going to lie on my bed, and you can fuck me any way you want.”
He blinked, his eyes darkening, his breath hitched. “You sure do have a way with words.”
“I know what I want, and I ask for it.”
“You demand it.”
“Same thing.”
The corner of his mouth lifted and he bit down on his bottom lip. “Bossy.”
I pulled at the knot of towel below his navel and let it fall to the floor. Christ, he was hung. “You know you could enter a three-legged race by yourself, right?”
He laughed and skimmed both hands up my chest, under my robe and pushed it off my shoulders. It slithered down my back to the floor, and he still wore that smug smile. “Your bed, face down, arse in the air. Now.”