Page 15 of Ghost of a Chance
Told you. Moron.
Brad shut his eyes to close out the vision of swollen, pink lips and lust-filled eyes. He needed to get his thinking head working.Why am I a moron this time? Why?he asked.
You brought pies… remember!
“Are you okay?” Lionel asked hesitantly, interrupting the conversation, and Brad realized his eyes had remained closed.
He must look ridiculous. Where was the savvy businessman who had his act together?
He peered up at Lionel through his eyelashes and offered an apologetic grin. “Your kisses… they kind of turned my brain to mush,” he explained. They were mates, it wasn’t like Brad was about to try to lie.
Lionel’s hands clenched his bottom, while his eyes twinkled in a way that shot a spike of fresh lust to the all-ready-to-go-cock wetting the front of the loaned T-shirt. “Is that so?”
Brad nodded, his curls bouncing around his cheeks. “I’m afraid so.”
“I like it.” Lionel eyed the exposed shoulder and brought Brad closer, ignoring the alarm buzzing in the background. He licked at the soft skin. “Your skin tastes better than Morty’s éclairs.”
The rumbling in his belly didn’t quite agree with Lionel’s declaration. Lionel stopped what he was doing and stared at Brad intently. “I bet you haven’t eaten supper, have you?”
Brad wanted to say he was more than happy to feast on whatever was in Lionel’s pants instead, but he shook his head, debating with himself.
Lionel, it seemed, had other plans, and before Brad could voice his idea, he found his bare bottom hitting a padded seat and a look of determination crossing the lion’s face. “Let’s get the pies out of the oven.” Lionel was moving toward the counter where the buzzing was coming from when he asked, “Do you like peas with your pie?”
He didn’t glance back at Brad, so he missed Brad’s wince. The weird furry feeling against his teeth made peas a no-go for him. “Erm… not really.” The understatement of the century.
Lionel paused after taking the tray out of the oven to look at him. The steam coming off the pies caused Brad’s stomach to let out a loud gurgle, alerting Lionel—in case he changed his mind—to how hungry Brad was. “You don’t like peas?” The question came with a dose of disbelief.
Brad giggled, his shoulders shaking as he nodded. “Hate them,” he managed to say through the next bout of chuckles at how conflicted Lionel looked at such a statement.
“You do like éclairs, right?”
“You’re lucky they’re still in the box. I love all kinds of desserts. Cake being my favorite kind of meal.”
Head tilting back, Lionel’s mane swished over his broad shoulders before laughter filled the kitchen and gave Brad a warm feeling in his belly. “Then once we’ve had the pies, I’ll feed you my éclair.”
Is that a euphemism for cock?
Brazen.
You were thinking it too!
Brad blocked the snort and focused his attention on the man bustling around the kitchen. Brad noted Lionel forwent the peas as he placed the plates on the table and took the seat next to Brad. It was then he noticed the cutlery laid out on the table, along with two empty glasses, two beer bottles, and a bottle of white wine. He gazed at them and sensed Lionel staring at him.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like to drink. I made the coffee and boiled the kettle, but thought you might like a beer or a glass of wine with your meal.”
Lionel blushed so brightly that Brad couldn’t fail to notice and reached out a hand and touched the back of Lionel’s. “A beer would be lovely.”
“I’m never normally this waffly,” Lionel admitted, turning over his hand and threading their fingers together, bringing the back of it to his lips to place a soft kiss there before placing it back on the table. It was such a simple thing, yet Brad all but swooned at the romance of it.
“I like it,” he confessed, revealing he wasn’t alone in how he was feeling.
Yes, a part of him still wanted to be naked against the kitchen counter with Lionel using those temping lips on other areas of him. Only another part loved the unexpected romance, which many might consider wasn’t romantic at all. Except Brad had watched the way Dad acted with Mom, and Brad wanted that. The thoughtful moments—touches—that cemented a relationship. That revealed a level of caring and intimacy Brad wished for.
Yes, sex was important—his leaking cock wasn’t quitting—but he wanted more than hot, sweaty sex, so he gave Lionel a sweet smile and held on a little tighter.
Sex can wait.
“Let’s eat, and maybe you could tell me a little about yourself?” Brad encouraged, his smile stretching wider when Lionel didn’trelease his hand but used the other to reach for the beer bottle and tip it into the glass next to his plate.
