Page 102 of Explosive Prejudice

My hands held on to his jacket as I nodded, my head rubbing against his chest in the process. “Yes.”

“Good.” His fingers moved up and down my back, slowly tracing my spine over the fabric of my suit. “But first, we’re going to eat. I’m starving.”

I ignored my cock, which was half-hard, thanks to him, and cleared my throat. “I want sushi.”

“That’s random.”

“And ramen.”

“We’d better get you ramen, then.”

“Then hot chocolate and crepes for dessert.”

Pulling back, he narrowed his eyes at me. “Where do you plan to shove all of that?”

I grinned. “Did you really just ask me that?”

Even though I had insisted on taking Camilo to my favorite Japanese restaurant, he refused and took me to a place just outside of Little Tokyo. It wasn’t an area I was familiar with, so he led the way until we arrived at a tiny-ass shop that was packed with people. Thankfully, we managed to get a corner table and sat down. After ordering half the menu, we went back to talking about the show.

“So, are they like, super famous? Rock-band kind of famous?” I asked once Camilo had finished telling me that the ballet company we’d seen tonight was originally based in New York but were on a worldwide tour.

“I wouldn’t go as far as to say a rock band, but they’re definitely famous in the dancing world. The principal dancer—”

“Principal dancer?” I took a sip from my drink.

“That’s the lead dancer. Imagine a team captain or a, let’s say, quarterback?”

“Now you’re talkin’.” I grinned, and he snorted a laugh.

“So if we use football as an analogy, the principal dancer of this group is a rising star. One hundred percent a first-round draft pick kind of star.”

First draft? That was impressive. “So basically, like myself, but as a dancer.”

“If you say so.”

I rounded my napkin into a small ball and tossed it at him. “I’m a damn good player, you dipshit.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He pretended to look elsewhere before side-eyeing me, and we both laughed.

“So are you a fan of that dancer?” A tiny bit of jealousy flared, considering how handsome that dancer was. I might know shit about ballet, but I was an expert when it came to gorgeous men, and that lead dancer, or whatever he was called, was fucking perfect. With platinum-blond hair, a sculpted face, and a body you’d go to war over. Yeah, no wonder they picked him to be the lead.

“Is that jealousy I sense?”

I rolled my eyes. “As if. Now, answer my question.”

Snorting, he shook his head. “I’m a fan of his work and talent, not his looks. The guy’s around our age, and he’s already performed on the biggest stages in the world.”

“Does this young phenomenon have a name?” I asked, circling the top of the bottle with the tip of my finger.

“Lexus Lloyd.”

I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest. “That’s a stupid name. Anyway, I’ve had enough talking about Alexy Lloyd.”

“Lexus.”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

Camilo laughed, then nudged my knee under the table. “You’re so obvious.”

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