Page 10 of The Cartographer

“Rey, please.”

Walter sounds so stodgy. Because it is fucking stodgy.

“Rey. What are you doing here?”

“Thirsting for another Camden. Your sister made me this instead.”

I lift my glass, the liquid sloshing inside. His nostrils flare, and I bet if his skin weren’t so dark and the light so low, I’d be able to see the flush that’s undoubtedly heating his face, watch the blue notes turn to pink. I shouldn’t tease.

“Going to leave another insane tip?” His face and voice have gone a bit hard, and chagrin tightens my jaw. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

I’m not going to apologize. He needed help, and I was in a position to give it to him. That’s all. That’s my job. To help where help is needed, if I can. And I could. I take another sip of my drink and wait for him to insist on paying me back.

“I’d pay you back, but I didn’t think I’d see you again.” He probably already gave the money to his sister, and it doesn’t seem like he’s in the habit of carrying a few hundred dollars around in his wallet.

“It wasn’t a loan. It was payment for services rendered.” He snorts and shakes his head. I smile at him, the curve of my mouth conspiratorial because we both know that’s ridiculous. “Don’t laugh, Hart. It takes a great deal of talent to make a cocktail that disgusting.”

“It’s a good thing I’m better at just about everything other than bartending.”

My, my, my. Since he’s clearly in a flirting mood, I pick up what he’s putting down. “It would be concerning if that were your special skill. Not much hope for you at all.”

Did the person who coined the term eye-fucking know Allie Hart? Wouldn’t surprise me a bit if they did, because there’s challenge and lust and hunger and all manner of filthy things in that man’s dark brown eyes.

The only thing I’d like more than having him continue to look at me like that is for him to fulfill the promise of that look. Which is what makes me ask in a low voice hopefully his sister can’t hear, “What are you doing in twenty minutes?”

*

After what seemslike torturous hours of polite conversation, Allie and I both make our excuses to Kendra and beat a quick retreat. When we get out to the alley, I lean up against the wall, crossing one ankle over the other and putting a hand in my pocket.

“On your knees.”

Allie blinks and his brows gather. “I don’t…”

“You don’t what? Suck dick?”

He shakes his head. “I get blowjobs. I don’t give them.”

So he’s been with men before. Good to know, and it makes me braver still.

“Bullshit.”

That’s when his expression goes from bewildered to pissed, and he seems to get bigger, expanding like a puff adder when threatened. I could drop it, put my hands in the air and back my way down the alley to where my car’s waiting for me, drive home and act as though this never happened. I don’t want to.

“Maybe you’ve never done it before, but you want to.”

“What makes you think that?” He’s practically snarling, and I do a quick calculation. If this goes badly, I can probably make it to the street before he can assault me. Probably. Even if I’m right—perhaps particularly if I’m right and he’s not ready for it yet—this could end badly. I’d rather it ended much more happily and without Matthew losing his damn mind over me winding up in the ER, so I answer.

“I have a knack for these things.” More like a shark sniffing a drop of blood in the water from a mile away, but he doesn’t need to know that.

I watch him war with himself, the desire clashing with internalized homophobia or whatever other issues he might have to overcome. It takes a while for him to respond, but I can be patient. Appearing serene when, in fact, there are as many thoughts racing through my mind as there are through his is a skill I’ve mastered.

His hands curl into fists, and I force myself not to make a break for the street.Patience, Walter. Wait him out.So I stand there, looking impregnable, imperturbable, which might drive him crazy.

His face breaks into a forced, cocky smile. “What else do you have a knack for? I bet you’d look pretty with your face stuffed with cock.”

“It’s true.” If he’s trying to flummox me, it’s not going to work. I give mind-blowing head, and I’m not ashamed of it. “But I’m not going to suck you off.”

My refusal makes his eyes narrow. We might be crossing from irritated to irate, but that’s a chance I’m willing to take. “Why not?”

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