Marc laughed. “Be more careful next time.”
“Careful? It was your fucking fault we fell.”
“Hardly.”
They stared at each other for several seconds. Marc could feel the tension. Neither of them knew what was happening between them.
“Um…I’d better go,” Darius said. “I should catch up on some work.”
“Oh, okay. That sounds good. I…have costumes to work on too.”
Darius pulled on his shirt and buttoned it. He’d already put his pants on before the first-aid session. “Right. So, I’ll…see you tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t be late.” Darius hoisted his bag over his shoulder.
Marc rolled his eyes, and as the door closed behind him, Marc sighed. Whatever this was, at least it had ended better that when he’d gone to Darius’s apartment. Maybe they could even do this again, and maybe…
Don’t get ahead of yourself. Just let this happen.
Right. He wasn’t going to get invested. He could take it slow. Let it develop.
Who the fuck was he kidding?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Marc was having a fan-fucking-tastic week. He and Darius had actually done something together other than fucking. Okay, it had ended with fucking, but still. And now he was shopping with Riley, one of his favorite things in the world.
Life was good. He should ask Darius to Riley’s wedding. Probably. Maybe. Yes. Yes, he would.
What if he says no?
Marc forced the thought from his mind. He’d managed to talk Riley into a few new outfits for his honeymoon. A supersoft silvery-gray shirt Marc knew Thorne would love and a tacky Christmas sweater—it was an outrage that Riley didn’t already own one.
“Let’s go to one more store.”
Riley gave him a quelling look. “Marc, you just bought a lavender scarf with unicorns on it. I think it’s time to stop.”
“So unicorns are peak shopping?”
Riley rolled his eyes. “Or something. Come on, I’m hungry.”
“Okay, but I want to go to Duke’s.”
Riley took his arm and tugged him toward the door of the shop. “Why would I ever say no to that?”
Duke’s was a hole-in-the-wall rib joint, and Marc prayed it never got gentrified.
“So how are things with Darius?” Riley asked as they waited for their order.
“Inventive.”
“I bet, but really, what’s up with you two now?”
“The workday ends, we fuck, then we go home.”
“And that’s it?”
Marc laid a hand over Riley’s. “It’s good.” And maybe getting better if the night before was the start of something rather than a fluke.
“Marc, is that really all you want?”
Apparently, he needed to be more convincing. “It’s all he’s offering.”
“I get that you don’t want to push, but—”
Marc held up his hand. “Can we just please not argue about this tonight?”
“You know I love you, right? I want you to be happy.”
“I have a job I like where I’m learning things I could use to build a career. I have a wonderful best friend who’s planning a fantabulous wedding. How could I not be happy?”
“Marc.” Riley still wasn’t fooled.
“I just want to have a fun night with you. Can we do that, please?”
Riley sighed. “Fine, but one day I’m going to pin you down.”
“Really? What does Thorne have to say about that?”
Riley made a noise of disgust, but the discussion ended when the ribs arrived and they got busy eating.
When they’d stuffed themselves, they headed back to Riley’s apartment and put on a fashion show for each other. Marc hadn’t laughed that much in weeks.
Riley was currently frowning at himself in the mirror. He was wearing tight cobalt blue pants and the silver shirt. “I’m just not sure about this.”
“Thorne will be all over you.” And so would half the men in New York if Thorne let them.
“I can barely move.”
“It will be worth it when he finally peels those pants off you. Or pulls them down just enough to immobilize you.”
Color rushed to Riley’s face. “Maybe.”
“Maybe my ass.”
“I’ll think about it.” Riley wiggled out of the pants and laid them and the sweater on the pile of clothes accumulating on the bed.
“Did we try on everything?” he asked, now clad in nothing but his underwear.
“I think so,” Marc said. He’d also stripped down, and he was looking through Riley’s drawers so he could borrow some sweats.
“Oh, what about this one?”
Marc turned and saw Riley lifting one of the costumes he’d finished during a lull in the workday.
“No, that’s—”
Riley had already pulled out the Regency era dress.
He raised his brows and looked Marc up and down. “Is there something you want to tell me? Is this for a client?”
“No, I told you I’m not working for Sheila now.”
Riley shrugged. “You could’ve changed your— Oh my God, is it for Darius?”
Marc spluttered. Darius did want to see him all Mr. Darcy’d up, but so far he had no reason to think Darius wanted him to play Elizabeth. “I’m not playing a Regency maiden for Darius or anyone else.”
“Then what’s this for?”
“It’s a costume.”
Riley rolled his eyes. “I figured that.”