“Did your so-called boyfriend tell you to wear that?”
Zach gave him a sly look.
If he hadn’t taken the hint before, it had definitely hit him by now— hell, it had been shoved right up tos nose.
“It was my idea to mock Nasty, I already told you. What did you think?”
“That for someone who makes sense, you’re under-producing.”
And the worst part was that… he wanted to egg him on. Screw that. He was already egging him on. What was there to gain except headache and heartache? Nothing. Yet here he was, all too eager to encourage him …
There was a word for that: MASOCHISM.
“I already told you, it was my idea to mock Nasty. You should know, I don’t ever do things because people tell me to—”
“Whatever. Just keep that slobbering public affliction of yours away from here.”
“And for what it’s worth,” He paused, and quietly added, “he’s a good kisser.”
The reply came immediately.
“Then you’re either numb or don’t remember what a good kiss is like.”
“All right, all right. Enough!” Zach slapped his palms on the table, “I have a boyfriend now. I know, you know, I’ll keep him away, all right?”
In one fluid motion Gentry pulled his tie and kissed him. His fingers were clenched around the soft dark satin, loosening the knot as he slid his tongue over the edge of Zach’s upper lip, before pushing inside.
Zach’s heart jumped into his throat and skipped a beat. He moved to shove him away, yet Gentry pulled back before that could happen, getting away with the smug satisfaction that the startled face peering back at him was caused by one person. Only one person.
“This is cheating.” Zach rasped gruffly. “Enough already—”
“No more talking.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
Zach frowned, watching Gentry rise from his seat and move behind him.
“Zach.” He slung his pale arms over his shoulders, sliding steady hands over the rigid joints.
“If you don’t want it,” he kissed the back of his neck, “say so.”
Zach remained silent.