Curiosity bubbled in Paolo’s gut, but he swallowed it down. Toni had warned him against prying too deep into that part of Luis’s story. “Leave the past where it belongs, boy. Dragging it up won’t help us trust him.”
Us. At the time, the word had infuriated Paolo. Where was the “us” when it was him who had to make the decision and bear the weight if he got it wrong? But Toni had been more right that he’d ever know. Paolo didn’t care about Luis’s mistakes. Fuck knows, he’d made plenty of his own.
He wandered to the till and opened the drawer. The cash levels looked the same as they always did after a weekday shift, especially one where traffic had been blocked off for most of it. He flipped through the card receipts and then the order slips Luis had clipped together in a neat stack. “Jesus. That’s a lot of full fry-ups to cook by yourself. Are we gonna get rinsed on Trip Advisor?”
“Didn’t have any complaints, so I hope not, mate.”
Puzzled, Paolo slipped into the kitchen and inspected the fridge, the surgically clean dishwasher, and the dry store. He went back out front, studied the grill, and found it as clean as it had been when Uncle Romeo had installed it twenty years ago. What am I missing?
He spun around. While he’d run his inspection, Luis had gone back to his newspaper.
Paolo crossed the cafe and pulled out a chair dramatically enough to make Luis look up, though he didn’t sit down. “All right. Spill. There’s no way you ran that service by yourself with no training or experience. What gives?”
Luis sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “Nothing gives. I told you I could handle it, and I did. Did you want me to fuck it up?”
“No. I just had no idea you could run the cafe singlehanded without me. Do you seriously think I’d have left you washing dishes all this time if I had?”
“I don’t think you’d have ever left me alone regardless. You’re a control freak, and I’m a convicted criminal.”
Luis spoke with no inflection. Facts, not accusations.
Nothing Paolo could deny. “I’d never have left you because I didn’t need to. But I wouldn’t have kept you washing dishes and doing the shitty jobs all the time.”
“I know.”
“So why didn’t you tell me?”
Luis started to shrug. Paolo growled and yanked him to his feet.
If Luis minded being manhandled, he hid it well. He let his folded arms drop and hang at his sides, expression bland.
Too bland.
Paolo let him go. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I like it when you put your hands on me.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
There was so much more Paolo needed to say. So much more he needed to ask, but as he stared at Luis and lost himself in every facet of his bewitching beauty, only one question blurted free. “Come home with me? Please?”
8
The walk home was like a dream. Fatigue pulled at Paolo’s every sense, but Luis’s presence beside him was a live wire of energy, keeping him moving.
He let them into his flat. Luis shut the door behind him and leaned against it, watching, as Paolo tossed his coat . . . somewhere and kicked off his shoes. “You did that yesterday. I thought it was because you were drunk, but you’re just a messy sod.”
“Yup. Fuck, was that only yesterday?”
“Yeah.”
It was the first time they’d acknowledged it aloud, but it had smouldered between them all day until other things had taken over. And now it was back full force. Paolo’s heart pounded, and heat sluiced through him. I have to kiss him again.
Paolo stepped into Luis’s space. He palmed Luis’s chest through his thin T-shirt and slid down to his flank. He tilted his head and eased himself between Luis’s legs. Their lips met, and just like the first time, the crackly connection between them exploded into something Paolo couldn’t control. He crushed Luis into the door, kissing him over and over, tongues dancing, teeth clashing. Hard denim kept them apart, but Paolo felt everything, and the sensation of Luis’s dick against his sent more jolts of crazy heat zipping around his body. More, I need more.
As if he’d spoken out loud, Luis drew back, breaking their kiss. His lips were redder than red, his gaze searching. “What do you want?”
Paolo shook his head, the ability to articulate the desire coursing through him long gone, if it had ever been there at all. He pulled Luis close again, spun him round, and backed him out of the hallway.
He didn’t know where they were going. The bedroom felt presumptuous.
They wound up in the kitchen.
Luis swung them around again, and Paolo found himself against the counter as Luis tipped him backwards. So much for control. But Paolo didn’t give a shit. Luis was every fantasy he’d ever had come true, and if he wanted to bend Paolo over the kitchen counter, Paolo wasn’t going to stop him.
Couldn’t stop him.
Luis slid his hands beneath Paolo’s T-shirt, roaming Paolo’s heated skin. He moved his lips to Paolo’s neck like a god damn pro, and Paolo couldn’t help the moan that burst free. Too many clothes. He tore his T-shirt over his head and reached for Luis’s. The thin material disappeared, and in the dim light of the cramped kitchen, Luis’s torso took Paolo’s breath away. His skin was pale and flawless, punctuated by tattoos and a silver bar through one nipple.
Paolo wanted to tug it with his teeth.
He settled for another kiss. Skin touched skin, and it was Luis’s turn to moan. He slid his hands over Paolo’s hips, cupped the rounded muscle at the top of Paolo’s legs, and in one fluid movement, hoisted Paolo onto the counter.
The position asserted the dominance Paolo was, uncharacteristically, happy to give up. It had been a long time since a man had last taken him apart the way Luis was, and he couldn’t get enough.
Their kiss fell by the wayside. Luis undid Paolo’s jeans, and Paolo wondered if he really was going to take him like that. Bend him over. Fuck him. His blood ran hot at the thought, but his heart told him that wasn’t Luis’s style. That he needed something else. They both did.
And perhaps Luis knew it too. He yanked Paolo’s jeans down, his underwear too, and dropped his elbows on the counter. Paolo’s cock sprang free, betraying—if he’d ever stood any chance of hiding it—how much he wanted this.
How much he wanted Luis.
And how fast his entire world had shifted on its axis. A month ago he’d been the loneliest queer in town. Now he was dropping his jeans for Luis Pope, and he had to wonder if he was legit having a fucked-up wet dream.
Yeah. That’s right. For all the bad shit he’d heard about Luis and all the years he’d gone without seeing him, it had never stopped him picturing moments like this. Who wouldn’t? Luis was stop-traffic gorgeous, and his mouth was inches away from Paolo’s dick.
I’ve got to wake up soon. But nothing changed. Luis slid Paolo a shy smile, then he swooped, and nothing about the sensation that shot through Paolo was dreamlike. It was sharp, electrifying, and his answering groan was loud enough to rattle the walls.
“Fuck.” His hands flew to Luis’s shoulders. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”
Luis hummed, adding an extra layer of madness to the crazy pleasure his tongue and lips were already heaping on Paolo’s cock.