Page 4 of Counterpoint
Next to him, Dominic practically squirmed.
As she picked up the debris from dinner, she gave them the lowdown on dessert. “We have cheesecake that can be topped with either fresh strawberries or chocolate syrup or both, a lemon meringue pie, and a flourless chocolate cake with raspberries.”
Adrian eyed Dominic. What would a young man with suchdiscerningtaste in literature prefer?
Those dark eyes stared back at Adrian.
“Lemon meringue, I think,” Adrian murmured.
Shock colored Dominic’s face. “How did you—”
“Two forks?” the waitress asked.
“No,” Adrian said. “One will be enough.”
And maybe he was laying it on a little thick, because even she blushed. When she left, he studied Dominic again. He took a breath, as if to steady himself. “Lemon meringue’s my favorite. Like—absolute favorite.”
“I’d make some joke about being a little tart—but that’s not why you like it, right?” Because Dominic had layers. Adrian wanted to peel them all off and find out what lay beneath. How did those lips feel against his? What would his moans taste like? Just the thought made him ache.
“It’s—I love lemon. And yes, because they’re tart. But no, that’s not all. They’re—They taste like summer and sun and freedom.” Dominic’s gaze drifted to the doorway again—to look outside, Adrian realized. “They’re happiness in fruit form.”
Yes, layers. And no, not a one-night stand. Not this one. “You write lyrics, too?”
Dominic seemed to startle out of his skin. “What? No. I—” He laughed, but it was strained. “I just play guitar. Help a little with the songs. Other people are so much better with words than me.” He patted the book beside him.
“And what kind of music do you play?”
Dominic raised an eyebrow, and there was a little spark offirethere. Very nice indeed. “What do you do outside work, Adrian?”
That was fair. Entirely fair. And hedidlike the sound of his name on Dominic’s lips.
Their waitress came and dropped off a sizable piece of pie—with one fork. It was a beautiful thing, lovely shade of yellow with snow-white meringue curled and browned a tiny bit on top.
“Oh.” Dominic’s voice was almost reverent. “That’s sublime.”
So was the look on that sweet face. Right there and then—if this went further than today—Adrian would make it his mission to have Dominic sigh like that again, preferably while Adrian’s cock was inside him. Wouldn’t that be magnificent?
Adrian cut off the tip of the pie with the side of the fork, and watched Dominic bite his lip. “Sometimes I go to clubs and dance.” He speared the piece with the tines and lifted. “Throw myself into a crowd of people and...let go.”
Dominic’s gaze slipped from the fork and met Adrian’s. “Love to see that.”
“I’m sure you would.” He held out the morsel of pie to Dominic.
Oh, those wide eyes. He scooted closer and took what Adrian offered so gently. Wet lips. Pink tongue. And when the pie slid into Dominic’s mouth, his eyes fluttered shut—and that was utterly sublime, too, down to the little whimper.
“God, it’s so good.” A whisper of words.
Adrian needed this man in his bed. More than once. More than twice. As many times as possible. Someone who moved like that, ate like that,submittedlike that—Adrian’s head whirled. He took a bite of the pie himself—and yes, it was quite lovely. The custard was perfect, and somehow it did taste like a sunny summer day.
“I also like walks in the park. Museums. The orchestra. History.” Adrian sliced off another piece for Dominic. “And reading.” This time he held the piece closer, and patted the space between them. “Are you willing?”
The answer must have been yes, because Dominic closed that gap and their legs brushed against each other. Laughter in that sweet face.
With his free hand, he touched Dominic’s thigh lightly. “This okay?”
“More than. Thank you for asking.”
Well, he wasn’t about to feel up a man without consent. That was just rude.
