In the hotel restaurant, Dante finds an
empty booth they can share. “You first,” he says, holding Ryan’s
chair steady as his boyfriend climbs out of it and slides into the
booth. Then he folds the wheelchair the way he’s seen Mrs.
Talonovich do and leans it against the side of their seat. “Scoot
over,” he whispers, edging in beside his lover. Beneath the table,
his hand curves around Ryan’s thigh, his fingers easing into his
crotch before Ryan slaps them away.
“What are you doing?” he asks, but he
speaks quietly and when Dante looks up, his eyes shine above a
wicked grin. “I thought we said later.”
“You said later,” Dante reminds
him. He moves closer, until their thighs press together and he
thinks they should always sit side by side in a booth,
always. He likes these forbidd
