Touch And Go - Aiden Bates Page 0,42
lingered there. “Don’t you have work? Save some lives?”
I slowly lifted my hand, but only got an inch above his knee before I felt compelled to put it back and squeezed him harder. I spoke with confidence, hoping to instill some of it into him. “I’ve got three days off. Plenty of time to spare. And you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”
His eyes dragged up from my hand, over my shoulders, and up to my face. He looked at me and blinked slowly, my heart rattling in my chest with excitement as he wet his lips. “Okay. I’ll stay.”
I could barely believe it. “Really?”
His smile was so sweet I almost melted, and before I knew it, we were kissing. It was softer and sweeter than the rushed passion in the shower, but the moment his tongue skated across my bottom lip, my dick got hard.
With a sharp breath, he pulled back and fluttered his lashes, making me swoon.
“Mm.” I touched my lips as my heart pounded heavy. “Sorry for apologizing about the kiss before.”
“You’re apologizing for apologizing?” He laughed and kissed me again but pulled away quickly when a bolt of worry ran through me, and I didn’t kiss back.
He searched my face for an explanation, and I shakily found my words. “I’m sorry but we probably shouldn’t. Just for now, while all this is going on.”
He ran his fingers through his blond hair and nodded. “Yeah. Don’t want to make more mess, right?”
He was right, I didn’t want to make a mess of this. Whatever this was. I’d never been so attracted to a guy I’d helped out before, but keeping out of the ethical gray areas was a good way to proceed when someone needed my care…if only I could keep my hands off him. I traced the palm of his hand where the bandage wrapped around his thumb. “You okay with that?”
“Yeah, for sure. It’s cool. I’m not really your type anyway.” He laughed and I did a double-take. Aside from the age gap, he couldn’t have been more wrong, but he pulled away and motioned to my gym socks before I had a chance to correct him. “You going for a run?”
“Got a better idea?” I sounded more casual than I felt, and almost reached out to touch his knee again.
But he stood and wiped his palms on his sides. “You ever been to Zuconi’s?”
“Zuc-who?”
Seb laughed and headed back towards the living area, calling back to me over his shoulder. “Oh, geez. Get dressed, old man. We’re going to dinner.”
Seb emailed Ben to reschedule his visit, then met me at the front door wearing a turquoise button-down I thought I recognized but couldn't quite place. He caught me looking and grinned. “Found it in the closet in the spare room. Thought it was my color.”
“It is. You look good. Should I wear something smarter? Is this place fine dining?”
He snorted and walked through the door. I followed him out of the foyer in my gym gear, wondering what I’d said that was so funny.
He took us between the warehouses of the Southwest Waterfront, half of which were converted to residential blocks like the Vanguard Tower, or had been transformed into fine restaurants, while the rest retained their primary function of storage, manufacturing, and sea shepherding.
It was still hot and muggy as the sun slid down in the sky, and the smells of the wharf neighborhood mingled into a thick mix of fresh fish from the seafood market, rubber and dust from storage warehouses Seb buzzed past with me on his heels. I admired how good he looked. For a guy who was deep in a serious mess, he walked with confidence, shoulders back and a cute swagger in his hips. He turned heads, but I didn’t think he noticed.
He made a quick turn and took us off the main thoroughfare, led me down laneways that skirted the river and deep into the industrial lanes back from the water.
“Uh, what kind of place is this restaurant?” I was a little breathless trying to keep up with him, and from the way my heart kept leaping whenever I glanced at his finely angled profile.
He looked ahead and didn’t turn his head to meet my eye. “It’s an institution. Five minutes from here. Can’t believe you’ve never been. Your generation…”
I stopped short. “My generation? How old do you think I am?”
“Old as time.” He didn’t break his stride, and I had to jog to catch