Love Him Free (On the Market #1) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,22

space for him. It made the guilt worse, knowing none of this would really matter. He just wanted to stay afloat long enough to ensure the debt wouldn’t totally crush him when he closed the doors for good.

Rubbing at his tired eyes, Simon crouched down, feeling an ache in his knees as he set the flyer under the register. He heard the small chime of the bell as he tucked the paper into the corner, and fought back a groan as he stood up.

And then, his world narrowed down to one single thing—one single sight.

Rocco Moretti was standing with his hands shoved into the pockets of tight-fitting sweats, his lower lip between his teeth like he was nervous, eyes searching Simon’s face.

Rocco was there.

Rocco was…

“What are you doing here?” The words slipped past his lips before he remembered, but Rocco seemed to understand, because he took long strides with powerful legs and closed the distance between them.

Simon’s entire body reacted, a visceral thing. His cock was so hard he could have cut steel, and the only thing that saved him was the counter between the two of them. He pressed his hips against it, then said a small prayer he wouldn’t come—because he was close.

God. He was close.

“I hope this is okay.” Rocco’s voice was a deep rumble, a bit lighter than his videos, and he knew a lot of that was the mics and the affect. But it was so much the same, Simon’s cheeks flamed, and he just barely fought back a moan.

“You…of course,” he managed to get out. Then he shook his head and lifted his hands. ‘I didn’t know you were serious.’

Rocco laughed, and Simon’s dick throbbed, ready to spill. ‘Yesterday was a bad day. A…very bad day.’ His emphasis on the word bad was enough to at least pull back on Simon’s raging want—the weariness in his eyes, the way his lips turned down at the corners. It must have been damn-near torture if Rocco had gotten in his car and driven god only knew how many miles.

To see him?

He was too terrified to assume.

‘Where are you staying?’

‘The Lodge,’ Rocco spelled it out. ‘Nice place, very cozy.’

Simon’s lip twitched in the corner, and he watched Rocco’s eyes trace the movement with his eyes. He swallowed thickly. ‘Have you eaten?’

Rocco shook his head, then gestured at the door before turning back. ‘I have my dog outside.’

Simon’s eyes widened. He became aware that for as much as they talked, they didn’t know hardly anything about each other, and yet, here Rocco was. ‘I’m about to close. We can have dinner at my place, so you can bring the dog.’

‘James,’ Rocco spelled, and Simon froze, a frown marring his brow. What did James have to do with this? ‘My dog,’ Rocco then clarified, then offered him the sign name for the animal.

A slow smile crept across Simon’s face. His erection had calmed enough that it wasn’t visible under his apron, so he walked around the counter and beckoned Rocco to follow. Just outside, he saw the little thing—a small, orange ball of fluff like a round little marshmallow tied to one of the benches just outside the shop.

He heard an involuntary coo rip from his chest as he knelt down, and the small thing trotted over to sniff his fingers. He wasn’t entirely sure he believed this was a dog. It seemed like a science experiment to create a living ball of fluff rather than an animal, but a wet tongue laved across his knuckles, and he sighed as he sank fingers into the soft fur.

‘Cute,’ he signed when he turned back to see Rocco watching him with heavy eyes.

Rocco chuckled, then walked over and unlatched the leash, scooping the thing into his arms and giving it a nuzzle. Simon’s heart beat rapidly against his ribs at the sight of a man Rocco’s size holding something so small and so delicate. And Simon knew the power in Rocco’s hands—he had been watching them for years.

‘He’s spoiled,’ Rocco signed with one hand.

Simon laughed as he realized that for as down to earth as Rocco seemed, he was spoiled himself. He had no doubt everything on Rocco was designer, that his shoes probably cost more than Simon’s monthly loan payment on the shop. And it made him a little bitter, but he also knew Rocco worked hard in an industry that usually didn’t make room for men like him.

‘My door’s around here,’ Simon told him, and they walked around the