Love Him Free (On the Market #1) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,35
a towel.
Rocco spelled the name of the restaurant, and saw the way Simon’s mouth quirked into a half smile. ‘Charlie at the Lodge said it was a good place to take a date.’
‘Is this a date?’ Simon asked. His lips were parted, like maybe he was having a hard time with his breath, and fuck—Rocco liked that.
‘Yes. If you want.’
Simon looked terrified, but only for a moment. It melted into something more—curiosity and desire and need all at once. ‘Yes.’ His answer was steady.
Rocco offered his arm, and Simon laughed as he took it. He turned the lights off as they headed for the door, and Rocco swore he had never, ever been so charmed.
Chapter Eight
Simon sat across from Rocco in the dimly lit restaurant and tried not to reflect back on the one, single, disaster date he’d been on in college. Three days after midterms his sophomore year, a guy who had been sitting across from him in his Chaucer lecture approached him near the elevators and had nervously asked him out.
“I’ve been staring at you for the last six weeks,” he said, face a little pink. He wasn’t unattractive, but Simon didn’t have the heart to tell him he hadn’t ever taken notice. “Do you want to maybe go get dinner or something?”
Simon’s heart rammed hard against his ribs as he said yes, as he gave the guy his number and his dorm room. He had sweaty palms as they walked together—not close enough to hold hands—to the little Irish pub down the street.
They spent half the night talking about how much they hated Chaucer, and how much they hated their professor. They laughed a lot, and drank too much. Simon ordered a cheeseburger with bacon and indulged in every single sinful bite.
He thought it was the moment. He thought maybe he wasn’t some anxious, lonely nerd. He thought he was worth something. Every single smile he dragged out of the guy fueled his courage, and he’d gone in for a kiss. Their lips never connected. The guy pushed him back, and laughed, and asked Simon if he wanted to suck his dick.
“Uh…”
“Dude, I’m not going to kiss you. Jesus, I just wanted to get off and you looked like a willing mouth.” He looked Simon in the eye…and then he laughed. He laughed hard enough to double over, and Simon ran. The guy quit showing up to the lecture, and Simon didn’t think he’d ever have the courage to try again.
Never, in a million years, did he think he’d be sitting across from Rocco Moretti at a restaurant. He never thought he’d be sitting across from him after having been kissed so hard and so thoroughly he’d come in his pants the night before.
Simon’s only saving grace was that Rocco didn’t know. He didn’t hear the way Simon had groaned out as his cock spilled, and he never looked down to see the wet spot spreading across his jeans. He’d just looked Simon in the eye and told him he’d see him later.
And now they were on a date.
Simon’s head was spinning, and he wanted more, but he knew he couldn’t do that without telling Rocco the truth first. They’d come close to kissing in the kitchen, but the buzzer had saved his jeans from another embarrassing mess.
Part of him half wished it had just happened. At that point he’d have been forced to explain, and chances were Rocco wasn’t going to want to deal with some thirty-six-year-old virgin who couldn’t hold his come. But the selfish part of Simon, the part he was used to ignoring, refusing to indulge, wanted this. Even if Rocco walked away at the end of the night and never looked back, at least Simon would have this. That last kiss–which was his first–and the vision of the man himself smiling sweetly across the table at him.
‘Dessert?’ Rocco asked.
Simon’s lip quirked. ‘My brother would kill me if we ate anywhere else but his truck.’
Rocco chuckled, then signaled for the server before handing off his card. It was an easy exchange, and before long he was scribbling his name beneath a tip, then holding his hand out for Simon. As he accepted, Simon felt eyes on him. He knew how the people of Cherry Creek looked at him. The weird, anxious, hermit baker who rarely set foot out of his apartment unless it was to shop with his head down, and rush out before anyone could make conversation with him.