He continued teasing me while I paid him back with my tongue on one of his nipples.
“He’s attractive,” Falcon said. “I can see why you fell for him.”
It took a minute before I realized what he was talking about. I pulled back. “Elek?”
“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat and taking my place under the water. He used the soap that was still in his hand to give himself a quick wash before switching places with me. “He’s better-looking in person than I expected.”
Talk about a boner killer. Hearing dream guy talking about nightmare man was disorienting.
“Mpfh,” I scoffed. “Then maybe you should have asked him out.”
Oh god, I was acting like a five-year-old.
But I couldn’t help it; after one last rinse, I pushed past him to exit the shower. I grabbed a towel and began to dry off while trying my hardest to ignore Falcon’s silence. It was nerve-racking.
When I was dry enough, I hung up the towel and walked my naked, twenty-eight-year-old ass into the bedroom. If there was one area where I could damned well beat out Elek Kemény, it was in the youth department. My body was pretty damned acceptable compared to Elek’s overindulged one.
I closed my eyes and shook my head. As if Agent Falcon would ever be attracted to someone as slimy as Elek. But then again, not much besides age and opulence separated me from Elek. After all, we were both notorious art thieves. We were both enemies of the FBI’s art crimes team. We both danced across the line of right and wrong.
I slipped into my bed and faced the wall. Maybe it was a good thing there would be no more touching or conversation tonight. We had a big day ahead of us and needed the sleep.
Yeah, right.
Against my wishes, every single sound from the bathroom entered my ears, got sorted by my brain, and was finally run through a complicated evaluation process to determine if toothbrushing was a sign Falcon hated me now for being a brat. Or if an odd fabricky swish sound meant he was covering himself with a towel rather than allowing me to ever see his naked body again.
I was pathetic.
When his bare footsteps finally came closer to the beds, his voice was surprisingly light and teasing.
“I did.”
Ignore him.
“Huh?” I asked because I couldn’t help it.
Dammit.
“I did ask him out,” Falcon clarified.
Jackass.
“Mpfh.”
It didn’t matter. If it wasn’t Elek attracting him away from me tonight, it would be someone else, someone steady, honest, and predictable doing it at some point in the future.
The bed dipped behind me and the covers opened, letting in a chilly draft. I thanked god for Falcon’s maturity.
He slid up to me and pulled me back against his chest. I felt the rumble of low laughter. “It’s true what they say about dating younger people.”
Great, now he was going to make fun of my immaturity. Perhaps I should prove him wrong with the silent treatment.
“They’re stupidly jealous for no good reason?” I asked instead.
“No. They keep you on your toes.”
“Wait,” I said, flipping over to face him. His square jaw was covered in sexy late stubble and a smirk. It made my heart thunder even faster. “Are we… dating?”
19
Falcon
“No… I don’t know, maybe?” I stammered.
I was not a stammerer. In fact, I couldn’t remember another situation in which I had felt so wrong-footed. I hadn’t even meant to imply we were dating, it just came out. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but now that it was out there between us, I wanted to know what he thought.
King’s face widened into a lovely grin which made my heart flip over like a dying fish.
“Is this a joke?” King asked.
“Um, no? Unless… unless you think it’s that funny, in which case, yes, it is a joke. Ha ha.”
King’s hand came up to brush along the side of my face. “You would actually consider dating Le Chaton?”
“Hell no. Not in a million years. I would, however, like to ask King Wilde out to dinner.”
King’s smile erased all of my nerves. Unless he was playing me, which he very well could be, he seemed just as into me as I was to him.
His eyebrows raised. “And if King Wilde said yes, where would you take him?”
My heart continued its dying fish routine. “Well, I don’t date very often, but I have found that some of the best conversations happen while I’m cooking for the guy. Little bit of wine, some finger foods, and then a sit-down meal over candlelight. My apartment isn’t nearly as fancy as yours though. No real art on the walls and whatnot. More like museum prints and wishful thinking.” Even though I couldn’t afford anything real, I did have similar taste in art to what I’d seen in King’s apartment in the few minutes we’d been there. It was part of the reason I’d un-handcuffed him. I’d wanted to be able to wander around and peek in doorways while he was gathering his things.