Free Handcuffs and Lace 32 -Ballsy by Mia Watts Page B

something?” Mark asked roughly.
Steven looked back. Mark held up his folded glasses. He thought about taking them, but decided getting that close, this soon, was a bad idea. He still didn’t have his cock under control, and he might do something stupid, like beg Mark to kiss him again. This time he wouldn’t stop him.
“Keep ’em.” Steven left him behind, choosing to sit in the chair at the head of the table so Mark couldn’t sit beside him, or across and distract him.
“They don’t look nearly as good on me,” Mark called back. He came to the dining room and took a seat. “So are we going to talk about that or just pretend it didn’t happen?”
“I’m good at keeping secrets,” Steven told him.
Mark was slower to lift his fork, as though he didn’t know what to make of Steven’s short answers. Well, it was his fault, Steven decided. He shouldn’t have kissed him. Any awkwardness in their relationship rested solely on Mark’s shoulders, he thought stubbornly.
“You were looking at me like you were into me,” Mark pressed.
“I was looking at you like you’d said something funny, moron. Not like I needed a tonsillectomy.”
Mark chuckled. The tension cracked a little. “C’mon. It was fun though, right?”
Steven chanced a glance at his friend. “You need to learn how to kiss.”
“What?” Mark seemed horrified. “I’ve never had any complaints.”
“Then your boyfriends were too chicken-shit to tell you that you can’t kiss worth a damn.”
“Are you offering to teach me your skills ?” Mark teased.
“Nope. Just offering you friendly advice before you go out into the big world and embarrass yourself.”
Mark wadded up his napkin and threw it at him. Steven grinned, feeling far more comfortable with the banter than with the emotions Mark stirred up. He almost hummed as he speared a piece of chicken and brought it to his mouth. That is until he noticed that Mark’s gaze traveled with that fork to fix onto Steven’s lips.
“Cut it out,” Steven said around the morsel.
Mark sat back and folded his arms across his chest. The knowing grin was back, almost taunting Steven as he continued to stare.
He swallowed with difficulty. “For fuck’s sake, Huffman. I’m not one of your cinderboys.” It was the name Steven had designated for all of Mark’s post-fire fucks. They were nameless, faceless men his friend used one night and never saw again. It was almost insulting Mark wanted to use him like that.
“Never said you were.”
“No, you’re just trying to fit me into that profile.”
“Profile? Cop-talk at the table, Garvey?” Mark tsked.
“Why not? You brought the fire in your pants to my home. It’s only fair I put your behavior into its appropriate place.”
“We could be good together.”
“Why? Because I’m conveniently around, and you wouldn’t have to hit the bars in your advancing years? We both know the kind of guy you go for, and I’m not it.”
Mark shrugged. “Maybe my tastes are changing.”
Steven sputtered on a laugh. “Tell that to the Italian model you fucked last week. Or the badge bunny-boy with the high-gloss tan a few days before that.”
“They aren’t you,” Mark noted. He sat forward and resumed eating.
“No shit.”
“Maybe I want you .”
“Maybe it’s one-sided,” Steven added, refusing to be taken in.
“Is it? You were into that kiss at first. Even if I did it badly,” Mark mocked.
“Desperation makes a man do crazy things. Like kissing your best friend because you haven’t been properly laid in a while. Or from your view point, kissing your best friend because you can’t be bothered to get a take-out screw.”
“You think that?”
“You look surprised.” To make his point, Steven reached for the glasses Mark had brought from the kitchen. He put them back into place and cocked a brow as he waiting for the other man to protest.
“I’d be lucky to date a guy like you.”
It wasn’t at all what Steven thought he’d say, but then again,