Page 7 of Inferno

But I don’t know who he is. I don’t know what his life looks like, or even if he’s as submissive as he appears to be. He could have a boyfriend or a husband. My eyes drop to his left hand, and I huff out a relieved breath at his empty ring finger.

By the time the waitress returns with my food, Henry’s tots are all gone, and instead of taking part in the conversation, he’s sipping at his glass of water silently. When my plate loaded with nachos and chili, drizzled with cheese, sour cream, and guacamole, is placed in front of me, I catch Henry’s flash of want before he stoically turns his attention back to Danny and Parker, who are now playfully bickering.

Picking up a nacho, I make sure it has a little of all the toppings on it, then lift it to Henry’s lips.

“Eat,” I growl.

Henry jerks, his gaze dropping to the nacho in my fingers before slowly lifting to my face again. “Oh, I’m fine,” he says, but it’s a lie.

“Eat,” I say a little more forcefully.

Swallowing thickly, his gaze dips to the nacho, then back to me again before he slowly takes it from my fingers and bites into it. His hum of enjoyment goes straight to my dick, and a fresh surge of precum leaks from the tip. I’m going to be a fucking mess by the time I get home, but I don’t care.

Leaning a little closer to him, I watch as he licks cheese from his lips. “Good?” I ask, my attention focused on him as I wait for his response.

“So good,” he says breathily, a fresh surge of heat pooling in his cheeks.

Picking up a nacho for myself, I don’t take as much care as I did when I was making one for him and instead push it into my mouth, licking the sour cream from my fingers.

“So good,” I tell him, deliberately mimicking him, as I coat my words with praise to see how he reacts.

Like a flower starting to bloom, Henry visibly preens. His shoulders unfurl, and his lips tip into a half smile.

“Share with me,” I order.

“I already ate,” he whispers.

“Tater tots are not a meal.”

“And nachos are?” he asks, visibly still embarrassed but pushing back a little.

He’s starting to relax, so I don’t reprimand him for his brattiness. Instead, I chuckle softly. “Stow your claws, Kitten, and eat.”

I have no idea where the pet name comes from, but it fits him perfectly. Cute, pretty, sweet and small. Kitten. It’s adorable, and so is the huffy indignation that flashes across his face.

Smiling to myself, I make him a nacho, then hold it out to him, arching a brow and daring him to argue. After a long moment, he takes it and eats it, humming happily, like a sexy purring kitten.

After taking several more nachos from me, Henry refuses any more, and I finish the rest of the plate, content to know that even if I won’t be taking him home with me tonight, at least his stomach is full.

Excusing myself to the bathroom, I pay for both tabs, then reluctantly let Henry shuffle out of the booth without forcing him to take my hand. When he stands to his full height, he’s taller than I thought, but still tiny in comparison to my six feet, five inches.

“My bus leaves in thirty minutes. I need to pay for my food, then go. I don’t want to miss it,” Henry says, talking more to Parker than me.

“Here,” Danny says, eyeing me pointedly before throwing his car keys at me.

“Thanks,” I say, relieved. “I’ll drive you home.”

“No,” Henry gasps, physically taking a step back. “I’ll take the bus.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“I live in Bozeman,” he protests.

“Okay.” I shrug, happy to have at least another forty minutes with him.

“No, it’s not okay. I’d rather take the bus,” he protests, his breath coming in sharp pants as he eyes all of us, like we’re going to attack.

“I could drive you instead,” Parker offers.

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