gently, “that I wouldn’t just fuck you and chuck you.”
His face hardens, and his throat bobs as he says, “I don’t know that yet. And I can get sex anywhere, Highland. That’s not what I’m looking for. So if you need to date around to figure shit out, then I’ll help you out with a Grindr profile or go with you to a gay bar. Maybe if I’m still single in a few years, you can come hit me up then.”
That stings.
It shouldn’t, because he’s being incredibly nice right now. Generally, when I’m into someone, I’ve never eliminated sex. Not since I was a teenager and a virgin.
But why would I play the field when I’ve already found the guy who’s captured my entire interest?
I only want him.
Oscar isn’t the hypothesis in an experiment where if I dislike the result after I test it out, I’ll trash the whole thing. But I can understand him thinking I might. He doesn’t want to be used, and I don’t want to use him like he’s just a hard dick.
“We don’t have to have sex,” I agree to the stipulation, and in a pause, I add, “I hope after a while you’ll realize you can trust me.”
Oscar brushes his hand over his unshaven jaw, his gaze drawing hot tracks down my body. “I might be open to other things.”
Other things. “Are you talking hand jobs? Blow jobs?”
He’s about to answer when his phone lets out an angry buzz beside me. I stand off the table, and my eyes peel to Oscar as he grabs the cell and clicks into a text.
“Charlie?” I ask.
He nods. “He’s leaving for New York, and I need to pick him up before he takes off in an Uber.”
“He told you where he’s going?” I say, surprised.
“He does that sometimes.” Oscar gathers a couple books. Those were his hardbacks. “Charlie likes to be inconsistent.” His eyes fall to my camera still strapped around my body. “You coming?”
“Yeah.” I smile. “It is my job to come.”
His nose flares, latching onto the innuendo, and then he laughs while fitting a comms earpiece in his ear. “This is gonna be fun. Just try not to come too hard on me, Long Beach. I’ve still got a Cobalt to protect.”
“What a coincidence, I’ve got a Cobalt to film.” I lift up my camera.
He opens his mouth, but his phone buzzes again. “Fuck,” he curses at the text, seriousness overtaking him. “We’ve got to go.”
I animate fast and follow him out of the penthouse and to the elevator. The unanswered question about “other things” hangs in the air.
Bad timing—I have a feeling Oscar and I might be magnetically attached to it.
15
OSCAR OLIVEIRA
We wait in the foyer for the elevator, and I could laugh at myself.
First off, Grindr. I offered to make Jack a dating profile, and immediately, I thought about how I’d need to upload the absolute ugliest ass photos of Jack Highland so no one would tap on him. But let’s be honest, an unattractive pic of this guy doesn’t exist.
And he’s not straight.
He’s been questioning his sexuality.
He’s been thinking about kissing me. Blowing me. Me blowing him. He likes me.
Holy shit.
I smother a smile. Not going to lie, I feel vindicated. I’ve been going out of my mind thinking Jack’s been coming onto me, and every time I confronted it, the door would slam in my face. It’s nice to know that I was right all along.
While we’re waiting, I grip my two hardbacks in one hand, and I reclip my radio to the waistband of my gym shorts with the other. I check him out on my left.
Jack keeps running his fingers through his dark, dark brown hair. Six-four and ripped, he’s breathing like he’s winded, like we’ve already fucked on the floor.
Take it easy with this one, Oliveira.
I grin more.
Jack catches sight of my curving mouth. “What’d I miss?”
“Just thinking about how excited you are.” I adjust the volume on comms.
His smile grows, eyes flitting to the ticking numbers outside the elevator as it comes to pick us up for a descent. Still in the foyer. Still lingering with a swarm of quickly amassing fervor and warmth. Jack stares back at me with a hotter look. “How excited are you?”
“I’m a solid 12.” I hold his gaze. “You?”
“Rock-hard 12.” He coasts into the innuendo but breathes a shallow breath, then shifts, and an aroused knot rises in my throat.
I could give myself fifteen gold medals for just laying down groundwork