By seven thirty, Ryan’s stomach begins to
growl, and he turns away from Dante so the rumblings won’t wake his
lover. He needs his sleep, he’s worn out, exhausted, and his little
talk with Josey didn’t help matters. Ryan wonders what happened in
there, but he won’t ask. If Dante wants to tell him, he will, when
he’s ready to and not before, and Ryan won’t push him. I’m here
when you need me, he thinks, smoothing the black hair away from
Dante’s brow. Tenderly, he plants a kiss on his lover’s dusky
cheek, grinning at the faint sigh that tickles his neck before he
pulls away.
The room service menu is still on the
bedside table—he snags it without disturbing Dante, leafs through
the pages, hungry for…well, he’s not sure, but he’d like something
hot and runny and fun, something the
