And the hooded eyes that held everything from fear and insecurity to loneliness.
Stop projecting, asshole.
I stood there, frozen, as the beautiful man bared his upper body. My eyes didn’t even know where to land—there was so much ink, and it was covering a tight, fit male body that was sparking the interest of my very lonely, pathetic dick. My heart rate ramped up as I tried to take it all in.
Tattoos covered almost every inch of his skin with the exception of a small blank area over his heart. The bare skin stood out in its uniqueness, and I wondered why in hell a man with so much art on his body had left a bare spot in the center of his chest.
Just as I’d suspected, there were piercings standing out on his nipples. Little matte black barbells from the look of it, and my mouth watered at the sight of them. I’d never been with someone with piercings like that. I wondered what it felt like for him to have them played with. I wondered what it would feel like to take them into my mouth and tug.
Jesus, fuck. My cock was plumping so quickly I had to shift the food bags to one hand so I could press and rearrange it. How in the world was this strange man making me so goddamned horny? Was I that hard up?
Yes.
Without a doubt, yes.
As I stared at him, I realized he’d dropped the shirt on the floor and gone back to cradling Pippa. It was amazing how different he was from the scrawny kid he’d been when I’d confronted him at the movie theater. He hadn’t developed into a big guy by any means, but his small biceps and shoulders were defined and flexed slightly as he shifted the baby in his arms. As he lifted Pippa to his shoulder, I saw the bumpy plane of his abdomen and could just barely make out a thin trail of hair leading from his belly button down into the low-riding waistband of a pair of black athletic pants.
The shiny purple-and-turquoise hair on his head was messy and all over the place as if he’d been running his fingers through it. There was so much to appreciate on the man I couldn’t look away.
I was still pressing a hand into the tight crotch of my pants when I realized he’d begun singing. Nico was singing a lullaby to my sweet Pippa, and I was practically jacking myself off at the sight of it. What kind of sicko was I?
Jesus, Weston. Head out of the gutter.
But the gutter is fucking glorious.
I remembered my long-standing vow never to trust my initial lust reaction to a hot guy.
Shaking my head in frustration, I reached out to press the doorbell, willing my dick to stand down before Nico could see the extent of my desperation. The man looked up at the sound and spied me through the door. I tried to look bored, but I wasn’t sure I pulled it off.
He opened the door and looked at me, not saying a word.
“Um, hi,” I said, knowing full well I was about to go into stupid babbling mode. “I have dinner for you. Us, I mean. I brought dinner for you. And me. To eat together. Well, we don’t have to eat together. But I brought enough for two. Although I guess I could just leave both portions with you and then you’d have leftovers. And, well, if I did that, I could make a sandwich at home. Matter of fact, why don’t you keep this. I’ll get out of your purple hair.”
Oh my god.
One corner of his mouth tilted up, and I felt my face flush. I quickly set the bags down inside the threshold and turned to go. Before I could step away, a hand shot out and grabbed my elbow. I froze at the touch but didn’t turn around to face him.
“Wait.” The voice was soft and sultry, causing even my cock to roll its eyes. Of course the man had a sexy voice now. Goldie was right. I really needed to find someone. This shit was getting out of control.
The voice of my dreams continued. “I think maybe she’s sick.”
And that’s all it took for a change to come over me. Gone was the lust-sick puppy who could almost taste the little black barbells on my tongue, and in his place was the pissed-off physician who loved Pippa and feared for her health at the hands of the inexperienced punk on the porch.
Chapter 7
Nico
I wouldn’t have ever had the guts to ask that man for help if I hadn’t seen the goofy, stuttering side of him he’d presented when I opened the door. It was like I was seeing a completely different man than the controlling bastard I’d met several days before or the cocky teen he’d been when I was a kid.