Page 3 of Counterpoint
“Now, see how good that is?”
Dom got the distinct impression Adrian wasn’t talking about the food. He blinked back the pleasure in his veins. “I wouldn’t mind some more.”
Amusement colored Adrian’s chuckle, then he stroked Dom’s cheek with the back of his fingers. “If you’re willing to stay and talk, perhaps we can share dessert?”
Dom shifted closer. “I still have three quarters of a glass of wine. I’m not going anywhere for a while.”
That flash of teeth again. “Good.”
Yep, he was all in, for whatever Adrian had in mind. Might not be the brightest idea, but Dom would figure out the ramifications of having a fling with a neighbor later. Right now? He really wanted to know what else Adrian Doran might suggest they do.
* * *
Oh, how Adrian wanted to undo the bowtie around Dominic’s neck and use it to pull the man closer to him. Those lips begged to be kissed and tamed, and he wanted to hear that sweet moan again.
But there was a difference between flirting in your own neighborhood bar and some club in Manhattan. Things you could get away with and things you couldn’t, and he was already pushing a bit of the envelope with feeding lovely, shivering Dominic bites of his sandwich. He’d push it more with dessert, and then perhaps they’d see where that went.
Granted, it wasn’t exactlyhisneighborhood. He lived over in Park Slope, but the bar was close enough that he found his way here often enough to be known as a regular. The only reason he hadn’t made the trip recently had been work—first loading him down with so many deadlines he’d been working twelve-hour days and weekends, then sending him out of town for two weeks.
But that was over with for a while, and here he was with a brand-new regular. Dapper and bespectacled, with that lovely mix of sexy and shy that turned Adrian on so much.
Dominic was now at half a glass of wine—and his cheeks held a little bit of color.
“So, Dominic, what brings you to New York?” There was a student look to the man, but his clothes were a tad too nice, and while his face was youthful enough, there was something in his manner that seemed a little more worldly than early twenties.
That blush deepened. “Oh.” Dominic toyed with his wine. “I’m a musician.”
Interesting. Certainly not a starving one. “Which instrument?”
“Guitar.” He fidgeted and looked toward the door. “I’m in a band, you know, like everyone.” Finally Dominic met Adrian’s gaze again. “What about you?”
“Far less interesting. I’m a software engineer for a financial services company.” In other words, a corporate office drone. But it paid the rent. Well, it would have, had he been renting.
Dominic gave a little shrug. “But do you like it?” He sipped his wine and peered at Adrian through thick eyelashes. His dark brown eyes that seemed to widen when Adrian peered back.
Oh, honey, you really want something I can give, don’t you?But what? A quick suck? A hot fuck? One night? He was so tired of the quick Grindr hookups. Something more, something longer would be a nice change of pace. Getting off was fine, but longer-term, there was so much more you could do with a man.
He finished his panini before answering. “It’s a fine job. Challenging in places. Boring in others.” He mused over the top of his own wineglass. “I suppose I like it well enough.”
Something in Dominic’s expression shifted, but was gone before Adrian could pin a name on the look. “And outside of work?”
He set his glass down. “Mmm. You mean besides feeding bits of panini to handsome young men in bars?”
Oh, that got him a nice blush. “I’m notthatyoung.”
But quite handsome. And so obviously in need of a nice long fuck, given those plump lips and blushing cheeks. “How old are you, then?”
Dominic sat up straight. “I’m twenty-seven.”
Yeah, he could see that, even with the little bit of roundness to Dominic’s face. “Since I know you’ll ask, I’m thirty-six.”
Dominic dwelled on that for a moment, then smiled. “You never did answer my question. What do you do for fun?”
Men like you.Except—that wasn’t entirely true. Dominic did pique his interest sexually, yes. But also in other ways. Maybe it was the book, or perhaps the bowtie. Or the fact that amusicianwas living in a neighborhood few could afford now. Even he’d be hard-pressed to buy into this market.
The server saved him from having to answer right away by swooping in to take his plate. “Dessert?”
“Yes, please.” In more ways than one.
