Page 89 of Counterpoint
They both picked up their silverware. “So,” Adrian said, “you really want to know about my week at work?”
“Yeah, I do.” Dom stabbed a ravioli, slid it into his mouth slowly and carefully, well aware that Adrian was now fixated on his lips. Once he’d chewed and swallowed, he took a sip of wine. “Then when we get home, I’ll tell you about mine.”
An almost imperceptible shudder ran through Adrian. Had Dom not been watching him closely, he might have missed it. He didn’t miss the slow smile that blossomed, or the way Adrian shifted in his chair. “All right,” he said. “You have yourself a deal.”
As they ate, Adrian talked about his software programing job. Sometimes the terms didn’t make sense to Dom—wrong language—but the struggles Adrian had with management, the way he’d been used by his coworker, those Dom understood.
“I suspect Jackson will turn in his notice soon.”
“Your best friend?”
“Yes, he’s—” Adrian huffed a laugh, and color touched his cheeks. “We’ve been friends for a while. We met at a club.”
“I still think it’s weird that you go clubbing, given how much you hate modern music.”
“I don’thatemodern music, I just don’t listen to it much.” Adrian took a sip of wine and grinned over the rim. “And I wasn’t going for the music. I was going to get laid.”
“Did you?”
“All the damn time.” He paused. “Sometimes with Jackson. Friends with benefits on occasion. But not recently. Hell, except for that time with you, I haven’t even been to a club in ages.”
And not, Dom suspected, because of him—this felt like a before-Adrian-had-met-him kind of thing. “Any reason why not?”
“Same reason I didn’t hook up with you that first night. I wanted something longer.” Adrian shrugged. “Jackson’s also my personal trainer, more or less.”
That explained the toned body. “He does good work.”
That got a chuckle out of Adrian. “I’ll be sure to mention that next time. Maybe he’ll fuck off with those damn burpees.”
“Or make you do more.”
“Shut your mouth, Dominic Bradley.” Adrian grinned. That expression mellowed a bit. “I’m going to guess it’s not the gym that keeps you in shape.”
Dom laughed. “No. It’s touring and playing and running around onstage. I usually lose weight on tour if I’m not careful because it’s just so physical.”
He kept peppering Adrian with questions about his job. What he did like: solving complex problems. Fixing shit. Cleaning up designs.
“I wasn’t kidding when I said website design. There’s a lot of thought that could be put into how to navigate someone through content.”
Dom shook his head. “You’re looking at someone who just uses templates on a build-it-yourself site.”
Adrian cringed. “Babe, don’t say such things.”
Dom couldn’t help laughing. Okay, for starting out nearly the worst way it might have, this night was shaping up to be a good one after all. When they finished their meal and their wine, Dom glanced at Adrian. “Dessert?”
“At home.” The look in Adrian’s eyes sent a bolt of lust across all of Dom’s veins and his dick responded.
Homemeant Adrian’s. It also probably meant rope. And maybe a chair. “Let’s go.”
They behaved for the Uber driver. Mostly. Adrian’s hand was high on Dom’s thigh, touching and teasing, and his smile was just shy of leering.
When they entered the house, Adrian gave Dom a gentle shove forward. “To the living room, please.”
The air changed, or maybe it was Dom’s brain, because by the time he stepped into that space he was a little high and a lot turned on. Didn’t help that Adrian placed both hands on his shoulders, halting him.
“Here’s fine.” Hands smoothed down Dom’s arms, then fell away. “Turn around, please.”
He faced Adrian and stared up into those gold-flecked eyes.
