Page 42 of The Best Men
Then? Mark handsmethe soda.
It’s so on.
And when he tips the shot glass back and downs the liquor, I see it. The heat in his eyes, followed by that hitch in his breath. I can’t hear it over the music. But this time, since we’re inches away, I canfeelit. His breath ghosting near my neck. The low hiss of a murmur. And, I let myself feel it, too, in my body as I fully enjoy the possibility of him.
Oh yes, I want you, Mark Banks.
Because it’s not math, and it’s not logic.
And I am not a math person. I’m all about instinct. Instinct on the field from my playing days, and instinct behind the lens now as a photographer.
I don’t operate according to lists or numbers, columns or rows.
I go with my gut.
And my gut, which has a direct connection to my favorite body part, knows that Mark Banks wants what I offered.
Desperately.
There’s no mistaking his interest.
So there’s areasonhe said no.
And my gut has the answer.
Actually, my cock has figured this one out. My interest in being the car Mark takes out for a test drive simply wasn’t clear enough for the hot nerd who lives in his head.
The guy doesn’t know how to listen to his body.
So I’ll show him with mine.
15
DIRTY DANCING IS NOW ON THE LIST
MARK
The tequila burns going down.
But it also burns off more of the noise in my head. The did-he-mean-it-didn’t-he-mean-it seesaw my mind has been riding for the last hour.
Or maybe this place has worked its dark and dirty magic. So many of my own fantasies are unfolding in front of me. Other men living out loud, putting their desires on the line with each other.
I haven’t made space in my life for the things I crave. But maybe I can have some of those things. Just for tonight.
But Imightneed one more drink to get there.
Like he can read my mind, Asher mouthswant another?the second I set down the glass.
“Yes,” I say.
“I’ll get this one,” he says, then turns to the bartender, motions for a second shot with his left hand, and sets his right hand on my back.
Oh, fuck.
In a hot second, I go up in flames.
We’re facing the bar, and his hand slides across my lower back, and there is no waythatshould feel like the promise of dirty things to come.
