Page 22 of Diva Pop

Silas shook his head in what seemed to be disappointment. “Please don’t deflect. We’re being real, remember?”

Jett lowered his gaze and started plucking imaginary lint off his soft and fuzzy pants. Now he was glad he wasn’t in some skin-revealing, ooh-la-la outfit. The tracksuit felt safer somehow.

“Okay, sure. I need to ponder all that. Like I said, I can’t process stuff in the moment.”

“You mean uncomfortable stuff, right?”

“Right.” At least Silas was making an attempt to understand, he’d give him that.

“Is that also why you dislike being touched?”

Jett threw back his head and sucked in a deep breath through his nose. The aggravation built in him exactly the way Silas had just described and exactly the way it always did. Except this time, it felt as if he was being held prisoner by his reaction rather than justified by it.

“I don’t know.” That was as real and non-deflecting as he could manage for one afternoon.

Silas smiled. “That’s fine for now. You did a good job.”

Jett’s eyebrows shot up. “At what? Being clueless?”

“No. At giving me the most honest answer you could.”

“Oh.” Jett went back to velour-plucking. “Thanks?”

He chanced a peek at Silas and noted he was still smiling. That seemed to be a good sign. Maybe he could broach the subject of Silas’ not-so-secret lifestyle again.

“Is it my turn now?”

Silas brought his hand up to cover his mouth, then dragged his palms down his chin before sitting back again. “Quid pro quo?”

“You’re not going to eat my liver with fava beans and a nice Chianti are you?”

Silas snorted out a laugh. “Uh, no. No worries there.” He let out a sigh. “What do you want to know? I’ll share anything about me you like.” He shrugged. “I have nothing to hide. Even if I don’t announce my private life to everyone, I’m not ashamed of how I live it.”

Jett rubbed his hands together. “Ooh, excellent.” He started toeing off his shoes. He needed to get comfortable for what he was sure would be a very interesting conversation. “So, when I was at the club the other night, I heard from a reputable source that you like your men to say, ‘Who’s your Daddy?’ when you’re alone. Confirm or deny.”

Silas shook his head, chuckling. “Something like that.”

Jett tucked his feet under his legs. “And?” So far, Silas’ big reveal was pretty lame.

Silas rested his arm along the top of the couch, his legs falling open the way they had the other night. Part of the reason Jett had stormed out of the room had been to prevent himself from dropping to the floor and crawling over to Silas to give him the hummer of a lifetime.

“Well, if you're asking whether I’m a lifestyle Daddy, then yes. I am.”

Jett hadn’t been kidding when he’d told Tasha that being dominated wasn’t his thing. But what if…? Nah. There was still the diaper thing. Or whatever it might be. He honestly had no idea. Of course, Silas might only be one of those ‘Ooh baby, baby. Call me Daddy in the bedroom’ kinda guys. Jett arched his eyebrows. That could work.

Wait. Was he actually considering Silas as a potential bedroom companion? For real? Nope. Nope, nope, nope and nope.

“You’re strangely silent.” Silas tilted his head. “Does my being a Daddy bother you?”

“Depends on what type of bothering we’re talking about here.” Jett grinned.

Silas narrowed his eyes. “We can have as open a discussion as you’d like, but I won’t engage in inappropriate banter.”

Jett huffed. “You’re no fun.”

“Then we should move on to another subject.”

Jett crossed his arms. “Fine. I won’t banter.”

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