“No, we didn’t get that far,” I said, smiling, leaning my cheek on the top of Cabot’s head.
“Okay,” he mumbled, crossing the room to the phone.
I stood with Cabot, and eventually he calmed. The crying became panting, stuttering breaths, and finally hiccups. I had him drink water fast, and when Drake got out of the bathroom, he smiled, big.
“Oh, there’s my baby,” Drake sighed as Cabot charged over to him. As he wrapped the smaller boy up in his arms, Drake looked over at me and smiled.
“Get in the shower, Cabot. Drake’ll bring your towels in when we get them,” I said.
He did as he was directed, and I pulled out my laptop, got myself situated at the table, and plugged it in. We had to use our phones for Wi-Fi hotspots because of all the classified data we transmitted, and once I got that working, I went back to typing up the report.
The towels arrived, and when Cabot came out looking better, definitely smelling better, and beaming at me, I told him and Drake to order room service if they wanted anything.
“Read over the report,” I said to Ian next. “Add anything I’m missing, okay?”
“Sure,” he muttered, not looking at me as he sat down in front of my laptop.
Something had crawled up his ass, but for the life of me, I had no idea what. But I needed a shower more than I needed to make nice with him, so I left him—sulking or pouting, I wasn’t sure which—and disappeared into the bathroom.
Hot water had never felt so good. I stood under the spray much longer than I needed to, and when I finally finished, the dessert they’d ended up ordering was there. I’d forgotten how much eighteen-year-old boys could eat.
I changed into the lounge pants the girls had bought me and walked out into the living room, still towel drying my hair.
“Are you really—oh.”
Looking up, I saw Drake standing over Cabot but staring at me. “Am I really what?”
“Gay,” Cabot squeaked.
“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “Why?”
Drake shook his head like he wasn’t sure. Cabot swallowed nervously, his eyes locked on me.
They were both sort of overwhelmed, and I understood why. I was probably the first other gay man they’d met.
“Let me hang this up, and I’ll talk to you guys, okay?”
They nodded in unison.
Returning to the bathroom, I hung up the towel and then checked the locks on the suite’s door. When I turned to walk back, Ian was right there, having moved up silently behind me.
“I didn’t hear you.” I chuckled, moving by him.
He stopped me with a hand on my bicep.
“What?”
His eyes didn’t leave mine, but he said nothing.
I cleared my throat. “Do you have an extra T-shirt in your bag?”
“Why, because now you’re done walking around half-naked?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Both those boys nearly swallowed their tongues when you came walking out of the bathroom,” he groused, shoving me backward. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
I was lost.
“And could those pants be any tighter?”
“Knock it off,” I said playfully, thinking he was teasing.
“Are you guys coming back to talk or what?” Drake asked, coming around the corner.
“We’ll be right there!” Ian yelled over his shoulder.
Drake’s eyes opened wide in surprise and he backpedaled away fast.
“Why’re you shouting at him?”
“I’m not!”
“Are you listening to yourself?”
“Hey, guys, we’re gonna watch TV in the bedroom!” Cabot announced loudly before I heard quickly slammed doors.
“That’s perfect,” I groused. “Now you scared them.”
“I didn’t scare anybody,” he snapped, clearly exasperated.
“Yeah, you did. They’re just kids, Ian.”
“I don’t fuckin’ care.” He sounded angry and belligerent and mean.
“You know, you’ve been a surly asshole all day. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“You!”
“Me?” I was taken aback.
“You’re pissing me off.”
“Why? What’d I do?”
“You shouldn’t—” He stopped speaking and took a step forward, into me, pinning me up against the door, his thigh between mine, spreading my legs, hands on my hips.
I felt a throb, a pulse of want that spread down my spine and flushed me in heat. It was, for a split second, like drowning. “Let go,” I said, begging him.
“Why?”
“Because you’re dangerously close to being thrown up against the wall.”
His breath hitched. “Yeah, okay, do that.”
My gaze met his.
“Do it,” he dared, licking his lips.
“Ian?” I murmured, hands on his face, easing him close. “What’s going on?”
His brows furrowed.
“What do you want?”
Still nothing.
“I can’t guess this time. You have to tell me.”
He coughed softly.
“Please.”
The muscles in his jaw corded. “Yesterday, when we—when you—” He swallowed hard. “I felt like I belonged to you.”
I had treated him like that, because in bed, I couldn’t hide my feelings. My desire to own him, to make him mine, was obvious. I worried about that and so worked to keep things casual and light between us out of bed. But it seemed like maybe that wasn’t what he wanted—or more importantly, needed.