Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 39991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to crowd you.”
“You’re not,” Ivor whispered. “I rather like you close.”
Shock widened Rowan’s eyes, though he wasn’t sure why. He’d picked up on Ivor’s interest in him. He supposed it was having that actually spoken aloud. “I like it, too,” he whispered back without thinking. He forgot that Daniel was in the room, forgot about the laptop—basically forgot about everything but feeling the warmth of Ivor’s body and his tantalizing scent.
Arousal spiked into him, and he parted his lips on a shaky breath. Answering desire blazed in those dark brown eyes. It was several moments before Ivor moved away from him, though he looked reluctant to be doing so.
Rowan cleared his throat and forced himself to look at the shelves. He grabbed the first laptop he saw and tried not to reveal just how shaky his legs were as he walked back toward Daniel.
Ivor quietly left the office, and Rowan settled in while Daniel showed him what to highlight in the pages of text. Luckily, the work wouldn’t take much brain power because his thoughts would be straying often to that sexy incubus.
Chapter Eleven
Ivor
That evening, Ivor ordered some food for him and Rowan from his favorite Italian restaurant. He didn’t know what Rowan liked, so he got him several things to choose from. He knocked on the office door and opened it when Rowan called out.
“Brought you dinner,” he said as he walked inside, then started setting all the containers on the desk.
Rowan jumped up from where he’d been sitting on the bed with his new laptop. He set it down and walked to the desk. “That smells fantastic. Italian? Because I’m definitely smelling tomato sauce, and it doesn’t look like pizza.”
Ivor shot him a smile. “Yes, Italian. I didn’t know what you’d normally order, so I got you spaghetti, lasagna, and chicken piccata. That should cover any cravings you might have.”
“I fucking love piccata, so I’ll go with that.” He pointed at the mini fridge in the corner of the office. “The others can go in there for tomorrow. Thanks for doing this. I was actually getting pretty hungry.”
“How did the work with Daniel go?” Ivor handed him the container with the chicken, along with a napkin, knife, and fork. He snapped his fingers. “Forgot drinks, so I’ll be right back.”
“There are a bunch in that fridge. I don’t know who this office belongs to, so I just planned to replace anything I drink.”
Ivor went to the small refrigerator and grabbed two bottles of water. “This is Torrence’s office, and he actually stocked that up with drinks for you. So you don’t have to worry about refilling it.”
“I’m not even paying you guys, so it would make me feel better.” Rowan settled back on the bed with the open container on his lap. He cut into the chicken and popped a bite into his mouth. “Oh, that’s excellent. Perfect amount of lemon.” He gestured toward the bed. “You’re welcome to join me.”
Ivor really wanted to sit close to him but decided it would be better to take the chair. He’d ordered lasagna for himself as well, so he settled in with his food.
They were both quiet for a little while as they ate. He couldn’t stop staring at Rowan, smiling when the man kept sneaking looks back at him. The awareness he felt was so strong, he knew Rowan had to be feeling it, too. That moment between them earlier in Daniel’s office had been so damn hot, he’d had trouble focusing the rest of the day.
He swallowed a bite of lasagna and set his fork down. “So tell me about yourself. What do you do other than create the best desserts I’ve ever tasted?”
Rowan shrugged as he chewed, then swallowed. “Not too much, actually. I’m addicted to my Kindle. I like to read, and not having my Kindle has me feeling weird and out of sorts.”
“What do you read?”
“Romance. Mostly gay romance, though I read a lot of straight historical ones, too. My reading changes with my moods.” He shifted on the bed, frowning. “When I can’t bake to keep calm, I have my books and… Well, it’s hard being here without that outlet, too.”
Ivor zeroed in on one word. “Calm?”
Rowan looked away from him and cleared his throat. “I deal with anxiety.” He looked back at Ivor. “I’m a worrywart and have been my entire life. It drove my father crazy. Neither he nor my siblings seem to have issues like that at all. I always kind of envied them that. Though, they’re still mostly assholes.”
“I get that from what you said before. Plus, I met them. Though your mother didn’t seem as much of one.”
“Even she really only cares about social status. Everything in their lives revolves around being seen the right way. Well, my brother is a little different. He’s actually a doctor, so there must be some kind of empathy there, though he doesn’t show it.”