“Strong,” Jet whispered. He couldn’t think around the pounding of his pulse and pressure of Darken’s arousal against his. Darken’s eyes were smoky and his lipstick was smeared in a way that no one would have mistaken for a fashion choice.
“Hold on,” Darken said. His arm tensed, and he gave a shove that set them both upright, chairs creaking.
Three older women who had been staring at them looked away.
Jet had completely forgotten that there were other people in the room.
The server, who had been discreetly waiting near the galley and pretending to look at a painting of a scantily clad knight fighting a dragon, came to take their order.
Jet stared at his place-setting, thinking: Is this a date? Are we on a date? It feels like a date. God, I want him. That’s a terrible idea. Why does he
