Page 21 of The Barn: Frost and Q
That sounded good. “Perfect.”
“Talk about getting a triple. Seriously, you’re going to get fat.”
He glanced at Tug. “Are you sure you can eat a whole Philly cheese steak sandwich with onion rings, Tiny? I mean, maybe we should just get you a couple of grains of rice…”
“Oh, now it will be a titty twister.” Tug reached for him, and Jamie hooted, backing away quickly. Once Tug got started, no one was safe.
No one.
“Where do you think I ought to do the scene, Tug?” he asked, hands over his chest.
Tug gave up to grab his beer. He liked them super cold. “In his rooms. This first one. Tie him to the chair. Or to his bed. He’s comfortable there, and he never has to worry about someone walking in. Baby steps.”
“Baby steps,” he agreed. He picked up his beer and clinked it against Tug’s. “I’ll do it. Tonight.”
“Good luck, my friend,” Tug said, sipping his IPA. “Good luck.”
Eight
Quentin was just settling in on the couch when the knock came at his door.
“Shit.” He grabbed his phone and pressed his little camera button. “What?”
“Hey, Q, buzz me in.”
Frost. Dammit. And he knew Quentin didn’t have to come to the door to open the lock.
Maybe he should just give the damn man the code.
He tapped it out on the phone, and the door swung open. Frost came in with a leather overnight bag. Monogrammed. Lord.
“What do you want?” he grumbled.
“Oh, grrr.” Frost set his bag down, then plopped on the couch with him. “Well, you see, I have been the recipient of a couple of TED Talks of late.” Frost rolled his head, that hazel gaze boring into his.
“Yeah? What about? Alaska water gardening? How to avoid grizzly bears?”
“Ha-ha. No. About getting what I want. About giving you what you need.”
He caught his breath. Cleared his throat. “And what is it that you want?”
“To be with you. To be your husband again. Your Dom again.”
He started to shake his head, but Frost put a hand on his thigh. “Hear me out.”
He licked his lips. “I’ll try.” Was that his voice? All hoarse? “So what’s your plan?”
Frost dug into his black jeans, pulling out a coin. “So I’m spending the night. If you don’t want me in your closet, I can sleep on the floor next to you. But as for how we entertain ourselves, we’ll flip a coin.”
His heart was beating harder than the wings of a pissed-off loon. “Chess or movies?”
“Nope.” Frost gave him a long, slow grin. “Heads, we fuck like bunnies. Tails, we do a scene.”
Oh God. Panic shot through him, but so did a longing so deep it almost made him double over. “I—I can’t.”
“Why not? If you think I don’t want you, then you’re wrong.”
“I didn’t say that.”
