Page 88 of Ambiguous
His hair’s a mess. Not the stylish mess it normally is, but rousingly sexy bedhead, real and touchable and evidence of how much I’ve been playing with it.
His relaxed eyes hold a tinge of fire, like he’s storing up energy to explode again. I’m into it.
“I’m getting used to being able to touch you,” I say, as I run my hands down his bare chest. His soft, warm skin jumps at my touch, and his nipples pebble. His dick jerks under me where I’m sitting on him, making mine do the same.
His hands roam, too, fingers splaying over my thighs, dancing over my ass and up my back, until he weaves them behind my neck and pulls me down on top of him. “You feel so utterly perfect,” he murmurs, squeezing my ass between kisses. Then he sighs.
“What?”
He tugs me back far enough that we can look at each other and eyes me seriously. “If we do this for real—and it’s not a secret—if someone writes a biography about me someday, you’ll be in it.”
“I understand.” I’ll always be that guy who dated Jules Hill.
Hopefully not in the past tense.
Jules’s phone buzzes on the coffee table. “That should be Paolo.” He picks it up and frowns.
I wrinkle my nose. “What’s wrong?”
“Colin says he’s on his way back.”
I scramble off the couch and start to look for my clothes and phone.
Julian stands. “Where are you going?”
“Do you want him to know we’re… like this?”
He gives me a firm stare. “I do. You’re becoming important to me. I may not be ready to be out in public, but I’m not hiding in my own home.” He taps his index finger against his lip. “Unless, of course,youdon’t want him to know. I realize it’s early days.”
I clear my throat. “No, it’s fine. I just didn’t want to assume—”
“You’re not assuming a thing.” He gives me a once-over. “He’ll figure out what’s going on right away, since he knows what’s in my wardrobe—and he’s had his eye on those tracksuit bottoms. But he can deal with that.”
We’ve barely had time to pull on T-shirts—doubtless designer quality, too—before there’s a knock on the door. We eye each other, but it turns out to be Paolo. Julian introduces us, and Paolo sets about preparing dinner for three.
Ten minutes later, Colin drives up. Jules opens the door and greets him.
Colin’s a watered-down version of Julian. Smaller, with a pinched face and a sleeker hairstyle. Jules gives him a hug and gestures toward me. “You remember Sam.”
“Nice to see you again,” I say.
Colin cocks his head. “You two are together? I thought you were a lawyer.” His accent is similar to Julian’s, but he has a higher-pitched voice.
We both nod.
“Well, good for you.” He looks between us. “Sorry, I didn’t know you’d have someone over.”
“That’s perfectly fine. Join us for dinner?” Jules asks.
“I’d love to.”
We all sit at the table, and Paolo serves us a delicate salad with white wine. While Jules eats carefully, Colin scarfs it up like he hasn’t eaten in a week. I’m not sure he actually tastes anything.
“This is delicious,” I say.
“Well done, Paolo,” Jules says when his chef returns to take our plates and bring in the next course—an Italian dish with fish and vegetables and pasta.
“Nothing like the boys’ home,” Colin mutters.
