“I did, actually. How can you tell?”
“I can smell it.”
“Good. My neighbour hates garlic and he’s a right dickhead, so I do what I can to annoy him.”
“That bad?”
“He called the police on the little old lady below me because she had pot plants outside her front door. The bloke’s a psycho.”
“Sounds it.”
Paolo grunted and slid his coat from his fine shoulders and then peeled off his T-shirt, swapping it for another that was draped over the arm of the couch.
Luis tried not to stare. Paolo was narrower than him, but his sinewy muscle screamed strength in a way that made Luis feel hot all over. Or maybe it was the wine. He hadn’t been drunk in forever, and he’d forgotten how much he liked it. How, if he balanced it right and didn’t neck too much, the sweet oblivion was gentle enough to carry him away from the world for a while. The real world, at least. Not the one where he was nosing around Paolo’s flat while Paolo took his clothes off. That world could stick around as long as it liked.
Paolo’s flat was a tidy bachelor pad, equipped with a big TV, games consoles, and just the right amount of mess to let Luis know that no girlfriend shared the space. What if he’s got a boyfriend, though?
Luis couldn’t decide how he felt about that. On the one hand, it made more sense than someone as hot as Paolo being single. On the other, it made the daft notion that Paolo was flirting with him nearly real.
Nearly.
Paolo fetched beer from his tiny kitchen and directed Luis to the sofa in his open plan living room. After the warming red wine, the cold bubbles woke Luis up. He drank slowly, eyeing Paolo over his bottle, trying not to notice his full lips, elegant neck, or how his throat worked as he swallowed. But it was tough. And he failed. He shifted on the couch, wishing he’d worn jeans. More small talk flowed between them. Paolo, it seemed, could talk shit for hours, and Luis didn’t mind. Away from the stress of the busy cafe, Paolo was calm, and he smiled a lot. It was a far cry from the crazy person he’d been the day before, and Luis was enchanted. He stayed as long as decency allowed, but eventually, the beer ran out, and Paolo stopped talking.
Luis rose from the couch. “I’d better go.”
Paolo said nothing and trailed him to the front door, leaning on the wall as Luis stepped into his shoes. “You have nice shaped feet.”
“Er, thanks? I think?”
A slow laugh dripped from Paolo, giving away the beer and wine they’d shared. “You’re welcome. I didn’t mean it in a weirdo way.”
“I didn’t take it in a weirdo way.”
“Good.”
“Yeah. Good.” Luis straightened. Paolo hadn’t moved but somehow seemed closer in the dimly lit hallway. His body heat thrummed in Luis’s blood, and Luis’s heart seemed to beat in time with the pulse in Paolo’s neck. Luis stepped closer, and Paolo pushed off the wall. They met in the middle. Luis snatched a breath, and then madness overcame him. He put his palms flat on Paolo’s chest, pushed him against the front door, and kissed him.
A distant horror fought for dominance with the wild sensation that swept over him, but Paolo kissed him back with zero hesitation, eviscerating any fear that Luis had made a terrible mistake. He flattened himself against the door, drawing Luis closer. His tongue slipped between Luis’s lips with the sweetest groan, and Luis knew without a shadow of drunken doubt, the earth could erupt beneath them and their mouths would stay fused together.
I could kiss him forever.
7
Paolo paced the cafe with scratchy eyes and an aching head, listening out for the tap at the back door, despite the fact that it was, as ever, four in the morning, a full hour before Luis usually showed up for work. And even that was another hour before his official start time. There was every chance he wouldn’t rock up until six. If he turns up at all.
Groaning, Paolo dropped into the nearest chair and buried his head in his hands. His memories of last night were fuzzy thanks to the bottle of Toni’s finest they’d sunk. He should’ve warned Luis that shit crept up on a man, but he’d been too busy kissing him. Idiot. He’s supposed to be able to trust you, not worry about you throwing yourself at him every time you have a beer together.
Reason told Paolo it hadn’t gone down that way. That it was Luis who’d made the first move. Luis who’d pushed him against the front door and kissed him. Luis who made his dick so hard it gave him a stomach ache. But as Paolo sat alone in the dark cafe, reason seemed a distant memory. All he could clearly recall was waking alone on the couch with the imprint of Luis’s mouth on his lips.
Damn fucking chianti.
With another groan, he hauled himself to his feet and finished up the jobs he’d neglected last night. At quarter to five, the delivery arrived with crates of bacon, sausages, eggs, and black pudding. The bakery lorry arrived next with the bread. And then the milkman, and the greengrocer with the mushrooms and tomatoes. Paolo signed for it all, then gazed around the kitchen. Putting the deliveries away by himself had been his normal until a few weeks ago, but he’d grown used to Luis helping, or sometimes even taking the task away from Paolo entirely. How did I ever manage without him?
The thought solidified the fear that he’d truly fucked up last night. If Luis freaked out and left, Paolo would be on his own again, and it scared him more than he cared to admit. Less work gave him more time to do the things that mattered, like keeping the accounts in order and visiting Toni and Nonna. Like sleeping and eating proper meals. Luis’s company mattered too. He didn’t talk much, but he didn’t have to. His quiet presence was a balm to Paolo’s noisy soul, and Paolo needed that in his life like he needed cold beer and hot coffee. More than that.
Despite waiting for the soft tap at the back door, when it came, Paolo jumped a mile. He set down the box of bacon he’d been ferrying to the fridge and opened the door.
Luis was stood where he usually stood, three feet back, as if he expected the door to be slammed in his face, half hidden by the shadows of the lingering night. A night that had ended with them kissing against a different door.
Stop it.
Paolo waved Luis inside. Luis passed him in a haze of fresh scented shampoo and man, and Paolo’s head spun, but he blamed the smouldering hangover at the base of his skull and ignored it. “Can you put the rest of this away? I need to brush down the grill.”
Luis nodded. “Sure.”
He reached for the bacon box Paolo had abandoned and took it to the fridge. Despite having a million and one things to do, Paolo didn’t move.
Luis came back and eyed him over the stack of boxes still cluttering the kitchen. “What’s up?”
“What?”
“You seem out of it. Hungover?”
“Little bit,” Paolo admitted. “What about you?”
“Not yet. Ask me at lunchtime.”
Luis’s grin was as quiet as the rest of him, and Paolo spent much of their time together chasing it down, needling Luis until he set it free, but in the growing light of the early morning, it wasn’t enough. Paolo was torn between wanting to punch him and kissing him again.
And again. And again.
He couldn’t remember why they’d stopped.