I didn’t care we were in a place where anyone could walk in at any time. I did not care. All I wanted was to get closer.

I reached out and placed my glass on the sideboard, put both my hands on his neck, and moved in so we were pressed together.

He licked into my mouth and it felt so fucking good, like everything made sense again. We stayed there just for a few seconds, and I let myself go, tasting and licking, remembering his taste. The warmth of him. I could have stood there for hours, but after a moment Patrice moved away. I balked, wanting to keep him close.

He just smiled and picked up my glass and took a sip of wine, but I saw the slightest tremor in his hand. No matter what he said, that kiss had gotten to him. “You’re a bad influence.”

I was feeling a little surer of myself, my confidence bolstered by Patrice’s flustered state.

“I think I’m a great influence. I’m just trying to figure out how to convince you of that.”

He laughed and I wondered what had changed since last weekend when I’d seen him at the store. I decided not to dwell on it and capitalize on the fact that we seemed to be on the same page, for once.

I moved closer again and said in a low voice. “I was wondering if you’d be up for a drink at my place later.”

This time he did laugh, shaking his head, and his eyes sparkling as he looked at me.

“Drink at your place huh? Do people actually fall for this shit in court?”

I laughed at his teasing, but the confidence of just a few seconds ago was starting to slip. “I have my moments.”

Patrice reached over and took my glass out of my hand again. He drank as he looked me up and down. It was sort of unreal how the tiniest bit of attention or show of interest from Patrice made me want to drop to my knees and beg him to like me.

Unnerving, really.

I was about to make a joke, anything, to break the tension. But before I could come up with something to say, his eyes widened like he remembered something. He pointed in my direction, my glass still in his hand. I was wondering how much of a twelve-year-old I would be if I took it back and tried to sip from the same spot he’d drunk from. Because that’s where things were with me at the moment.

Desperate.

Just when I thought I was going to be cut loose, Patrice roped me back in. “Hey so, I was going to ask if you still had that vacancy in your building. Which, by the way, Nesto said you actually own. Funny that slipped your mind when you told me about it.” His tone was a bit reprimanding, but he was smiling wide and I was too busy basking in it to care.