When he stood, Niko’s heart thudded, a warning sign to back the hell up. That moment before the hit, the second before the sting of a fist connecting with his jaw, yeah this felt the same. Fuck, this kid was taking him down and didn’t even know it.
Not now. Shit, his dick swelled in his boxers and all he could think about was, instead of the woman bent over the table, it was Ethan in the dark, his tight ass held open, hot, and ready.
Niko mumbled his frustration and turned around. “Grab two burgers and a soda. You’re going to have to wait there so get yourself something.
Ethan slipped one of the straps over his shoulder. “I’m good, but I can run over there for you.
“Here.” Niko gave him a fifty. The place was one of those new swanky cafes so the prices were inflated, but the food was great. “I said, get yourself something to eat. Then come back and talk to Scarlet.”
The tips of his fingers slid across Niko’s palm as he took the bill. Damn, the smooth skin felt like silk, clean, and innocent. “I really am sorry for cancelling the appointment. I know how hard it is to get in with you.”
Niko could give two shits about the boost to his ego. He wanted to put the tat on Ethan’s pale skin. Fuck all—he wanted his mark letting the asshole in the Jag know he’d had his hands on his vanity toy.
Did his thoughts make him a pussy if he didn’t act on them? It wasn’t like he was some pansy ass drag queen running around with a rainbow flag sticker on his car. Ethan may not have the muscles—hell, he obviously used some kind of gel to get those strands to stand up just right at the front of his hair, but that didn’t make him a flamer either.
He was a regular guy. A fucking hot guy. A way too fucking young guy.
Niko stepped aside and shoved the wallet into his back pocket. “I mean it. Get something. I’ll see you next week.”
Without a word, Niko left Ethan standing in his studio and headed back down the hall. “Hey, Niko,” Knox called out, walking by with an icepack on his temple. “What’s with the twink?”
Niko looked over his shoulder as Ethan stopped in the hallway, his timid gaze falling to his feet as he started toward the lobby. “Nothing. What the hell happened?”
“Late night.”
When he lifted the ice, Niko smiled. He’d had plenty of black eyes in his day. “Damn man, he gotcha good.”
“Yeah, but I kicked him in the nuts so it all worked out.”
Nothing really surprised Niko. He’d seen everything from a gunshot wound in his father’s leg—Niko’d never forget that night—to watching his best friend being stabbed. Basically, violence had always been a part of his life. But, this guy, Knox, lived up to the letters across his fingers. HARD KNOX.
Scarlet passed, slapping Knox on the ass and saying, “Late night again?”
Knox pressed the icepack back to his temple. “Damn, people, can’t a man have some peace?” Niko shook his head and left Knox to explain the situation to the plump receptionist. “Lookin’ good there, prego.”
Scarlet’s smile lit her apple cheeks. She rubbed her swollen belly. “This is hot. I need to be on the cover of Maxim.”
Knox shook his head. Niko was running late and needed to pack up to get to the center. After checking in with The Professor to confirm a club meeting, he stopped by the front desk to find a Styrofoam container and a pile of bills and change sitting on the glass.
Shit, the damn kid had every cent lying there, which meant he hadn’t gotten anything to eat for himself. Niko tried to shrug the concern, but this time the feeling ran too deep. He cared if the guy ate. He even cared that Ethan didn’t have a place to live.
Niko knew how to fix things. If he could do anything right, he could fix shit. Whether with a fist, con, or smarts—he could fix fucking anything.
CHAPTER THREE
Ethan stretched, releasing the tight coil in his neck. He’d had to move around several times during the night, but thank God the library was virtually empty, making it easy to hide behind the miles of bookcases to get a few naps. At least he managed to get homework done so he’d be ready for his sociology exam.
After a quick trip to the bathroom, a sink bath, and run to the sociology building, he slid into a seat just in time for the tests to be handed out. He may have failed miserably in his personal life, but at least he was an A student and had even managed to finish a couple of projects early before leaving Charles’s.
Yesterday, he’d taken the train to scout a couple of efficiency apartments that would allow him to take the L to get to school. The neighborhoods were less than perfect. Hell, who was he kidding, they were downright ghetto, but he had no right to judge. He couldn’t steal naps in the library forever.