Heartthrob: A Low Angst Gay Romance (Honeywood Book 1) by Noah Steele

Author:Noah Steele [Steele, Noah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-10-25T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

LEO

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Clark raised an eyebrow at me over the massive mug of coffee he held up to his lips, and I blinked slowly.

“Like what?” he said with a sly grin.

He wiggled in his seat across from me in the large front window at The Hive, and I smiled softly at the way he kept his hands busy when he was nervous. It was our first proper date in the daylight on a busy morning at the coffee shop, and he hadn’t let go of my hand until we’d sat down and our drinks arrived. He drummed his fingers on the mug and left little prints that faded slowly, and in that moment, I wished I was that mug.

Clark didn’t seem to know how hot it was that I could make a guy like him nervous. And he couldn’t know what the sweet slope of his lips when he pouted over the lip of his mug did to me, or he wouldn’t look at me like that across the table. Not with a room full of people to witness me melt into a pool of need at his feet. My cheeks burned the longer Clark studied me with his amber eyes, like he was also working out how much we could get away with if we tried.

“Like you’d rather be eating me than the pancakes we’re waiting for, ” I said.

Clark spluttered and put his mug down. He coughed into his arm, and when he took the napkin I offered, it looked like there was coffee trickling from his nose. Perfect, put-together Clark Lockwood was falling apart across from me, unraveling in his plain white tee and dark denim shorts, and I only wanted to pull him apart even more. When he raised his arm to cough again, I swiped his camera from the windowsill and caught the heat in his gaze. Even mid-cough, he was gorgeous.

Clark reached across the table and took his camera back, lingering for extra seconds with his thumb on the back of my hand. He leaned back in his chair and held me with a soft, sly look that made my chest hum. With a soft purr in the back of his throat, he let his elbows rest on the table and leaned forward.

I chewed my lip at the sight of his short sleeves pulling against his biceps, and when he propped himself on an elbow, soft fist pressed against his cut cheek, pink lips pulled into a crooked smile, every inch of him dripping with sex in the morning sun through the café window, I nearly moaned at the table.

“I’m yours whenever you want me like that,” he whispered. “Maybe I’m imagining you’re a pancake right now. All soft and fluffy and just what I need to hit the spot. You’d look great drenched in syrup. But I like you like this, too. The tops of your ears get so red when you blush. I like that I can do that to you.

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