LUKA (The Rhythm Series, Book 2) (7 page)

“Yeah,” I said teasingly, “but I’m here with you.”

“Are you?” he asked sharply, looking up. “Because I’m having a hard time getting my head around why a guy like you would go on a date with me?”

“A guy like me?”

“God! You must know, Luka! You’re just so fucking hot!” he said, more loudly than was necessary.

The woman at the next table giggled, although her boyfriend didn’t.

Seth leaned across the table and caught my hand.

“Will you come with me to the club I go to so I can show you off? Otherwise no one will believe I could score a guy like you.”

I pulled my hand free and scowled at him.

“I’m not a fucking trophy.”

His eyes widened and he flinched.

“I’m sorry, I know you’re not. That was crass. I didn’t mean it like that. We can do whatever you want.”

We sat in silence while I considered getting up and walking out. He’d touched a nerve, although he didn’t know it. When I was 22, I’d dated Astrid. She was older than me, and I’d thought it was love, but it turned out she just liked having a good-looking younger guy on her arm. She certainly hadn’t cared about my fucking feelings.

Seth laid his hand next to mine, not quite touching.

“I really am sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I said stiffly. “We can go to this club.”

He hesitated. “Okay, then.”

He stood up to pay the bill, which was less than the price of one entrée at the Ivy, and I followed him outside.

I pulled a cigarette out of my pocket and lit it. As an afterthought, I offered one to Seth, but he shook his head.

“I haven’t seen you smoke before.”

I didn’t smoke often—usually when I was stressed; sometimes after sex. So I didn’t reply.

As we walked through Soho, I saw the theater where
Les Misérables
was showing. I’d been meaning to see that show again.

“Do you like going to the theater?” Seth asked.

“Yeah.”

“Me, too. Maybe we could go and see something together?”

“Maybe.”

He sighed and we continued to walk along in silence until we reached the club.

The entrance was discreet, between two miniature bay trees in silver pots, and next to a Nepalese restaurant.

Seth greeted the doorman by name, before following the steps downward.

The light dimmed and I could hear the bass of a dance track, although I couldn’t make out the music.

“They’ve got a dance area and a chilling area where we can talk,” Seth explained. “Which would you prefer?”

“Either is fine.”

Frowning slightly, he led us into a large room with a low ceiling and red leather sofas scattered around small tables.

I settled into the soft leather and Seth sat next to me, leaving a wide gap between us. A waiter arrived immediately.

“Hi, Ryan!” said Seth, forcing a smile. “How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks, Seth. What can I get for you and your friend?”

I ordered a beer and Seth asked for a single malt.

“I never asked what you do?” Seth said as the waiter walked away. “Or are you here on holiday?”

“I’ve just finished a contract, so I guess I’m taking a break right now. What about you?”

Seth raised his eyebrows and grinned at me.

“You’d never guess by looking at me, but I’m a banker.”

“No, I’d never guess,” I deadpanned, trying to stop a smile breaking out.

Seth laughed. “You were going to say stuntman, weren’t you?”

I shook my head.

“Special forces?”

I bit my lip as my eyes smiled at him.

“I had to give up the lion-taming after an unfortunate incident. I don’t like to talk about it.”

“You know, you’re kind of crazy.”

“For a banker?”

“For anyone.”

Seth smiled, looking more relaxed. “Do you go for a bit of crazy?”

“Maybe,” I said cautiously.

He sat back and smiled. “Good. So, tell me what sort of guy finds bankers unbearably attractive, to the point of being driven utterly nuts every time I say ‘Escrow Analysis’ or ‘Loan Modification Provision’?”

He was a rich banker, and I was a guy who lived out of two suitcases and talked with my body. ‘Fuck’ and ‘fucking’ were my favorite English words. But somehow, it didn’t matter.

I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the sofa, a smile curving my lips upward.

“Yeah, baby, say it again.”

Seth laughed, and I felt the sofa move underneath me as he shifted closer.

When I opened my eyes, his stare was intense.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Luka.”

I blinked at the sudden change of tone, but the look in his eyes was turning me on.

“Let’s dance,” I said, staring back at him. “I like dancing.”

He licked his lips.

“That explains the amazing body.”

The waiter arrived with our drinks, placing them in front of us.

“We haven’t seen you in here for a while. It’s good to see you again.”

“Thanks, Ryan. I’ve been in Hong Kong for the last three months. I only got back to the U.K. a couple of days ago.”

“Well, don’t be a stranger,” said the waiter, looking at us both and winking.

Seth picked up his drink and clinked it against my bottle.

“Cheers!”

“
Na zdravje!
”

I tipped up the bottle, enjoying a long pull of cold beer.

“Do you want to dance now, show me some of your moves?” asked Seth, running his eyes across my body.

“Only if you show me yours.”

Seth chuckled. “Okay, as long as you promise not to laugh at me.”

“I don’t make promises to strange men.”

“I’m not strange, just . . . odd.”

I laughed. “I think I like odd.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

He seemed to have gotten over the whole bi thing, and he took my hand, leading me to another room with a small dance area. It was already crowded and couples were dancing, a few women, as well.

Seth dropped my hand.

“Are you checking out those girls?”

I could have been wrong that he’d gotten over it.

“Jeez!”

He glared for a second before dropping his eyes to the floor.

“Right, sorry. Again.”

I shook my head, wondering how this sweet, funny guy who was obviously rich and successful could be so insecure.

“C’mere,” I said, pulling him toward me by his belt loops.

He staggered slightly, thumping against my chest. I ran my hands down his back, feeling the firm flesh under my fingers.

“I’m here with you,” I breathed into his ear, pleased to see a shiver run through his body.

I rested my hands on his hips as he wrapped his arms behind my neck.

And we danced.

At first, it wasn’t much more than swaying to the music as Seth found his feet, almost literally. But after a few minutes, he was getting into it. And he was right—he did have some moves. I was surprised how well he danced, considering how awkward he could be.

It was a turn on seeing this other side of him: confident, sexy, intense, and I wondered if that’s how he was at work.

I wished I could remember more about how we’d hooked up.

We stayed on the dance floor until it got too crowded, and we’d both had guys trying to grope our packages.

When we went back to our seats, the waiter appeared again, batting his eyes at Seth.

I said I’d buy the next round of drinks, but Seth just smiled and said he’d already taken care of it.

That annoyed me a little. I was used to paying my own way, but I decided that Seth was just trying to be nice. I’d survive.

He threw back two shots quickly while I nursed a second beer. He was well on his way to being drunk, but it made him more self-assured.

“I want to kiss those sexy lips,” he whispered.

“I’m right here,” I challenged.

He leaned forward and kissed me lightly. I lifted one hand to the back of his head and held him in place while I pressed my tongue into his mouth, tasting the whiskey.

Seth was a good kisser: not too sloppy or too hurried. I felt my dick harden and soon he was stroking it over my pants while I rubbed the heel of my hand against his crotch.

“Let’s get out of here,” he whispered against my neck. “Can we go to your place? I’d like to see where you live.”

I leaned back and grinned at him.

“You’re worried Michael will be jealous if I go to yours again.”

“True. I did promise him a movie and popcorn night. He doesn’t like being stood up.”

“Sure you don’t need to get back and feed him or something?”

He smiled happily. “No, I did that before I came out. He’ll be fine.”

“Why do you have a pet rabbit?”

He shrugged. “I work long hours, but I hate coming home to an empty flat. I’d love a dog, but I don’t have the time for one. I went to the pet shop to get a cat, but then I saw Michael, and it was love at first sight.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is it mutual?”

“No, he’s a complete trouser-whore. Any man who comes near the place and he’s all, ‘Look at my cute twitching nose! Look at my beautiful fur! Get a load of these ears, dude! You know what they say about long ears’.”

I choked on a laugh.

“I never knew I should check out a guy’s ears, but yours are pretty hot.”

Seth twisted his head left and right. “Many men would agree with you.”

“Is that a lot of men?”

“Maybe. Are you jealous?”

“Maybe. Should I be?”

“Sadly, no. I don’t get out much.”

“Why’s that?”

He shrugged, his smile fading. “Long hours, competitive workplace. Women are always going on about equality in a male-dominated world like merchant banking, but it’s even worse when you’re gay.”

“So why do it?”

“I like the work alright, and it pays disgustingly well. A few more years and maybe I’ll do something completely different. But right now I’m paying off my heart-attack of a mortgage.”

“What would you like to do?”

His eyes darkened and a slow smile stretched across his face.

“I’d like to do you.”

“I’m topping tonight.”

He licked his lips. “My arse is yours.”

“Yes, it is.”

He groaned.

“How far away is your place?”

“Twenty minutes by Tube. Ten by taxi.”

He pulled out his cell phone. “I’m calling a cab.”

“It would be quicker to find one outside.”

“I love the way you think.”

“I think you love the way I fuck.”

He laughed. “You don’t even remember last night!”

I raised my eyebrows. “It’s been coming back to me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

He swallowed, then leaned forward to kiss me again.

“If you do that, we’ll be walking hard-ons while we look for a taxi.”

“I’d say you’re a tease,” he mumbled against my lips, “but you’re right.”

We left the club, enjoying the cooler air on our skin, rich with the tang of city life: colognes, car fumes, spicy food and restaurants.

It didn’t take long to find a black cab, one of the famous London landmarks. Those guys are amazing. Give them any street in any borough, no matter how obscure, and they’ll drive right there, using shortcuts.

Seth climbed drunkenly into the cab while I gave the driver my address, and with a quick nod, he took off.

I wanted to kiss Seth again, but he wasn’t a fan of PDA outside of his safe places. I guess his line of work made him cautious. Or maybe he hadn’t been out very long.

I spent the short journey running my hand from his knee to his crotch while staring out the window, smiling when I heard his suppressed moans. I glanced at him quickly, but his eyes were shut and his head was lolling against the seat.

When the taxi pulled over, I reached for my wallet.

“Oh wow, this is weird,” Seth frowned. “I know someone who lives in the other flat in your house.”

“Yeah?” I said without much interest as I paid the driver, then opened the door to the building, waiting for Seth to follow me.

Instead, he was glaring at me, his hands on his hips.

“Why the fuck do you have a key to my twin sister’s flat when I know for a fact that she flew to Australia yesterday?”

My head spun.

“Who, Sarah?”

“Yes. My sister Sarah.”

Sranje!

Suddenly, everything fell into place. I knew Sarah had a brother—she’d talked about him—and I knew that he lived in London. Fuck, I even knew that he’d been working in Hong Kong. But until this second, I’d never put it all together. I’d never asked Seth his surname. I had no reason to . . . but now . . .

“Luka?”

“Sarah’s a friend of mine.”

He blinked, confusion and alcohol rooting him to the spot.

“Friends? Wow.”

“Are you going to come in or stand outside?”

“You must know her pretty well if she gave you the keys to her flat?”

His eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“We’ve done two tours together. We’re friends. Like I said.”
Who slept together the night before I met you.

“Tours?”

“I’m a dancer. We worked together on
Slave
.”

“And that’s it?”

I didn’t answer, instead turning to walk inside. I was tired of arguing on the doorstep. I left the door open, even though I wasn’t certain that he’d follow.

But he did.

I felt him watching me as I pulled a couple of beers out of the fridge and offered him one.

He shook his head, still looking pissed.

I shrugged, turned on some music, and slumped down on the low couch, taking a long pull of beer.

“You’re him, aren’t you?” he said, pointing an accusing finger.

“Dude, I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about, but you’re really pissing me off.”

“Sarah always said there was a guy on the tour that she liked, but she wouldn’t tell me your name because she knew I’d go on about it. I don’t remember you, though. I caught the show in Amsterdam and met the cast after.”

I squinted at him, trying to remember. “I think I was sick that week, so I didn’t go out with the others. But you did see me dance: I was Volkov, the wolf.”

His eyes widened. “With the wig and those weird yellow contact lenses! God, yes! I do remember. That tango you danced with another man! That was . . . savage . . . but really sexy. You freaked me out.”