“Hello.”

Mikhail had been absorbed in sketching notes in his notepad, he hadn’t noticed the company. Now he regretted not sensing Kamar earlier, because he was in no way prepared to see him. Not yet, he convinced himself.

Forcing a smile to his face, Mikhail lowered the notepad and pen to his lap, his gaze soaking in Kamar. Fidgeting in place, Kamar waited for Mikhail to gesture to the beat-up plastic chair. It reminded Mikhail of how not too long ago they had sat opposite each other in the back of his stall, deciding on a whim to meet at Kamar’s house before they proceeded from dinner to fucking in his bath house.

Mikhail had left, taking his Omega rebel’s virginity with him.

Now they were facing off as strangers, Kamar squirming and looking as uncomfortable as Mikhail felt.

“How are you?” Mikhail asked. It was the safest question at the moment, though it came out sounding just as lame as he anticipated.

Kamar tucked his hands between his knees, his gaze settling over Mikhail’s lap and on the open notepad. Feeling self-conscious, Mikhail closed the notepad and sure enough, Kamar’s eyes shot up to meet his.

“Good. And you?”

So this was how they’d be playing it?

Mikhail sucked in his lips, trying to rein in the tsunami of disappointment crashing over him.

Kamar glanced Ali’s way, but his gaze felt far off, distant. “He’s handling things well.”

“Ali’s efficient. I’m happy for the help.” There was a pause, and then Mikhail filled it, forcefully. “But that’s not why you’re here, is it?”

Kamar found his eyes again. Licking his lips and shaking his head, he puffed, “No.”

That one syllable was so powerful. It rocked Mikhail into a longer pause than he’d planned. His voice was affected, revealing the strain on his mind. Rather than delve into them again, Mikhail took the easy route. He told him about his visit to Jibril.

“How was he?” Kamar wondered, his face melding into warm concern.

“Good,” Mikhail said. “Better than his wife, that’s for sure. She looked haggard with worry. Understandable though, when her husband was whisked off by the military without proper explanation–he told me she has no clue.”

Kamar sucked in a sharp breath. “She doesn’t. It’s safer.” Catching Mikhail’s raised brows, Kamar sighed. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Mikhail fell into too easy teasing.

Kamar stiffened, holding himself taller in the chair. Glaring at Mikhail and dousing whatever ease he’d felt, Kamar snapped, “Don’t be so…so…difficult.” Before Mikhail could argue, he held up a finger and hissed, “Don’t argue either. That’s a prime example of how difficult you’re being.”

Regarding Ali and making sure he wasn’t looking their way, Mikhail reached out and grabbed Kamar. His hand tightened around Kamar’s fist, jerking the rebel out of his seat, forward into the hot kiss Mikhail claimed with brute authority.

Kamar’s muffled moan rippled through Mikhail as he wriggled his tongue into his lover’s mouth. Kamar speared his hands through Mikhail’s hair, holding him just as fast into the kiss. There would be no escaping for either of them, not until the need for air becoming too damn strong.

Breaking away, but lingering against his mouth, Mikhail panted, “Am I still being difficult?’

“Very difficult,” Kamar breathed, trapping Mikhail into another kiss. He surged forward, this time his tongue sweeping through Mikhail’s mouth, coaxing his tongue to play before he conquered him, before he sucked Mikhail’s tongue and pressed deeper into their kiss.

When they moved apart this time, Mikhail touched foreheads with Kamar. His lover’s sweet, warm breath washed over him, prompting Mikhail’s gaze down to his swollen lips. Kamar’s mouth puffed up in a pink, kissable pout.

His cock stretched, thickened, flooding with the blood pumping through his hard-working heart. Pushing off the notepad from his lap, Mikhail released his hold on Kamar, backing away to not so discreetly adjust himself. Kamar’s eyes took in the bulge, and Mikhail cupped himself, lazily stroking his shaft over his jeans.

He smirked when Kamar licked his lips, his tongue dragging slowly over the surface, and like a puppeteer, the action jerked Mikhail’s cock.

“What did you really come to talk to me about?” he asked, feeling braver after the kiss, and continuing to stroke himself openly. He checked on Ali again and their customers. No one noticed the kiss it seemed, or that Mikhail and Kamar continued to trade searing hot gazes.

“I wanted to see you,” Kamar confessed. And before Mikhail could luxuriate in that admission, Kamar blinked and the glossy lust hazing his vision dispersed, enticing Mikhail to stop massaging his cock. “Uh, what I mean is I wanted to see you about…the you-know-what.”

Mikhail didn’t bother hiding his scowl. Feeling his brows swooping down, he growled, “That’s not it.”

“You’re being difficult again,” Kamar said, but he glanced down at his hands in his lap, any hint of his nerves in his twitching fingers. Mikhail knew that restlessness. He had lived with it for the past week since Kamar discovered who he’d been in Djanna, what he’d been.

“You say difficult; I say stubborn.” Mikhail lifted the notepad he’d tossed unceremoniously to the floor in a fit of passion. He also needed time to look away from Kamar. The last thing he needed was for the younger man to see how hard Mikhail was taking his words.

“Right now, we need to focus on our business together.” Kamar shuffled, his feet shifting in Mikhail’s peripherals. He froze when Mikhail looked up, straightening with the notepad in hand. “And then maybe later we can talk more about us.”

“About this, you mean,” Mikhail jerked a thumb between them. “Because I don’t need to talk about it. I know exactly what’s happening here. It’s called chemistry. We got it.”

Ali was looking their way now, no customers keeping him busy. Mikhail realized then he’d raised his voice. Nodding at Ali, the boy looked away. Clever, Ali understood this was one conversation better left for the two adults.

“What do you want me to say?” Kamar looked distressed.

It was on the tip of Mikhail’s tongue—“I want you to say I love you, dammit”—but it eluded him.

Sighing, he instead said, “Forget it.”

“Really?” Kamar blurted.

Mikhail glowered at him. “Yes. Let’s talk business, like you said.”

“Okay,” Kamar said, suspicion draping his features. Like he expected Mikhail to change his mind and call him out on being a hypocrite. What happened to the forgiveness he showed Mikhail in his inn yesterday morning?

Kamar smiled easier, clearly the weight of discussing their relationship causing him immense discomfort, which hurt Mikhail more than he let on.

Nodding curtly, and dying a little inside while he was at it, Mikhail said, “Business it is.”