I could not stop staring at him.

Even though I was doing my damnedest to play everything off like this was just some casual, totally not-awkward forced dinner date, I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger on his impossibly handsome face. I followed the sharp lines of his jaw, shadowed with stubble, as it met with his well-defined, strong chin. My eyes flicked up to chart the angle of his nose, focusing on the way the bridge ever so slightly hooked down the center, giving him an almost hawkish look. That angular nose was complemented by the heavy brow ridge, his dark brows both thick and strangely well sculpted for a guy who probably didn’t even own a pair of tweezers. I found myself idly wondering if he had ever been to a salon. The image of this guy, so big and buff and silent as a statue, stalking through the sliding glass doors of some ritzy salon to have his eyebrows waxed and shaped was almost too much for me to handle.

I could almost laugh, except that one glance at Damon’s ocean-blue eyes stunned me into silence. It was a cliché, to be sure, and one that I often scoffed at when I read the line in a book, but with Damon it was true. I felt that I could so easily get lost in them. I found myself longing to cup that scowling, carved-marble face in my hands and gaze into them. I wondered what truths I might find there. What secrets lay hidden in the deep, rippling blue of his eyes. I wondered how his five-o’clock shadow would feel against the palms of my hands. Prickly. Coarse, like sandpaper. If I were to press my lips against his in a soft but passionate kiss, that stubble would scratch my own smooth skin, turning it pink with irritation. That didn’t bother me one bit.

In fact, I reveled in the idea that his touch might leave a mark on me. That his powerful hands, no doubt calloused and rough from years of hard, honest work, could grip me by the shoulders and leave lasting bruises, like inky fingerprints on parchment skin. He could slam me into a wall, pin me down on the cold tile floor, rut against me until my back was black and blue from the hard surface and the friction. Something about that intrigued me, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why. I was drawn to the idea that Damon’s powerful body might leave a lasting impression on my own. It would be tactile proof, a temporary memento of the time we spent together and the passion we shared.

Of course, this was all in my head. I knew better than to expect anything more than that, and even my idle fantasies were probably not the best idea to entertain. After all, this was a strictly business interaction. Sure, he was going to be spending all hours of the day and night nearby, even within reach most of the time. But that wasn’t an invitation for more. It was just the cold, hard reality of what my life had turned into. Damon’s presence was a reminder that no matter how invincible I tended to think I was, no matter how safe I played it, and regardless of how pure my intentions were for the world, the underlying purpose of his time here was to protect me from danger. And that danger, I had learned on that fateful jog this morning, was much closer and more imminent than I ever could have imagined.

I should have been quaking in my shoes. I should have been nervously checking and rechecking the locks on my door. I should have been paranoid. Frightened by the close call I had suffered earlier today. But honestly, my thoughts were otherwise occupied. Damon, for all his quietness and his attempts to stay low-key, was one gigantic distraction.

The truth of the matter was that Damon was gorgeous, and no amount of self-scolding or denial could change that fact. I knew I needed to tread carefully, though. I was more than aware of how tense this all was, how tremulous the bond between us was at this very fledgling phase of our relationship.

There was that word again, the word that had been swarming my thoughts all day and making it downright impossible for me to focus on work: relationship. It was stupid, and I knew it, but all I could do was think about how long he was going to be here. How long would we have together? How many days and nights of awkward dinners, forced conversation, and strained silences would we have to endure as a partnership? Hell, even that word felt simultaneously too formal and too intimate for what we were. But then again, I had never hired a bodyguard before. I didn’t know what the proper protocol was. Was this dynamic doomed to be forever uncomfortable, or would we finally reach a point where we could actually chill out and relax around one another?

Judging by the faint expression of unease on Damon’s face, I was leaning toward the former. Of course, I had to acknowledge that some of his discomfort probably had less to do with me personally and more to do with the strangeness and opulence of his surroundings. Damon was very obviously a working-class kind of guy, and I had a feeling his own home was a far cry from mine. I had to admit, even I felt a little intimidated by my apartment from time to time. In a lot of ways, it was a testament to how selfish and unsure of myself I had been years ago when I earned my first massive payout. I was just a dumb kid back then, with more money than I knew what to do with. Buying a place this large and tricking it out with as many status symbols as I could manage was such a new-money thing to do. Now, I could reflect back on who I was back then and wrinkle my nose, maybe even laugh at myself on a good day. Over time, I had gotten used to it, really. But Damon was still new to this world. He was still just dipping his toe in the pool of unfathomable wealth and excess, and I got the feeling he didn’t quite like what he saw. He felt like a fish out of water, I could tell. And it made him more endearing.

I just hoped he didn’t judge me as harshly as he probably judged my apartment. Even though I was paying him a lot of money to be here, and he was under no obligation to like me, I found myself wishing for his approval. I wanted him to respect me, but most of all, I just wanted him to think I was a decent human being.

“So, how is it?” I asked suddenly, giving him a big smile. “Edible enough?”

Damon looked to have been shaken out of his own deep thoughts. He blinked those beautiful blue eyes a few times and then nodded.

“Yeah. Sure. It’s great,” he answered curtly.

“Good. And your room? Is it okay? Is there anything missing you would like?” I pressed him further. I knew I was asking stupid questions. Damon clearly was not a picky person. He was the very opposite of high-maintenance. And yet I found myself desperate to please him.

“The room is great, too,” he assured me, blessing me with a flicker of a smile. It was the first one I had seen on his face all evening since arriving at my apartment, and even though it only lasted a second or two, my heart surged in my chest.

“Well, if you think of anything – anything at all – just let me know. I want you to be comfortable here,” I told him. “As comfortable as you can be under the circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” Damon asked, furrowing his brow.

I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came out. Once again, those blue eyes had wiped my memory clean. Suddenly, it didn’t matter what the answer was. I just wanted to keep him looking at me, meeting my gaze for as long as possible.

But he had other ideas. Damon looked back down at his plate. My neck and ears started to burn with embarrassment. God, was I being too obvious? Could he read on my face how attracted I was to him? I needed to put this conversation out of its misery before I could make it any worse. A mercy killing.

“Well,” I said, clearing my throat and standing up abruptly, “I think I’m done with dinner. I wasn’t very hungry anyway. Got too much on my mind.”

Stop yammering and get out of here, I warned myself inwardly.

“When you’re finished, just leave your plate if you like. The cleaning service will come by early in the morning to take care of stuff like that,” I told him, realizing as I said it out loud just how spoiled and snobbish it made me sound.

Yikes. Did I really not know how to interact with normal people anymore? Was I that out of touch?

“The cleaning service?” he repeated, a little incredulously.

“Yes. It’s just, uh-- well, you know what it is. Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to head into my studio for a while, try to get some tinkering done. Goodnight,” I said hastily.

Before I could give him a chance to respond, I rushed out of the dining room toward the kitchen to scrape my plate and leave it in the sink. As I walked out of the room, I caught sight of the rather bewildered expression on Damon’s face. Like he wasn’t sure what had just happened.

To be honest, I wasn’t sure either.

But I quietly retreated to my workshop, shutting the door and hoping desperately for something, anything, to distract me from the gorgeous guy sitting in my dining room. I slid into my chair and scooted up to the table, looking over the various inventions I had laid out in sections, all in varying stages of completion. I decided to work on one of my older projects, a sort of wrist attachment to make drinking from a glass easier for people with disabilities. It wasn’t exactly groundbreaking, but I still figured there might be a market for something like that, even if all I did was tweak some pre-existing tech and hopefully perfect it. Maybe it wouldn’t save someone’s life, but it could certainly make life a little less difficult. And at the end of the day, that was a worthy enough venture for my liking.

As I fiddled with the mechanics and consulted my file of sketches and measurements, I managed to keep my hands busy, but not so much my mind. My thoughts wandered back to Damon. It was crazy to think that even though I had only met him this morning, he was already infiltrating my every thought. Certainly my every fantasy. It was like no matter which direction I turned, all roads lead back to Damon.

I tried to remind myself how futile it was to develop a crush on a straight guy. God knows it wasn’t the first time my heart had wandered into such prickly territory. But Damon was interesting. He intrigued me, and not just because of how devastatingly hot he was. It was almost as if the less he said, the more I wanted to know about him. I thought I could sense the secrets in his heart, simmering just under the surface, and if I pricked the right area sharply enough, the truth might come bleeding out.

“Well, that’s a little morbid,” I muttered to myself, grimacing.

I decided happier thoughts were in order. But every time I tried to let my thoughts wander, they kept going back to Damon. As I sat at my desk, I found my hand wandering down to my pants and brushing against my crotch. My whole body shivered as I realized I was as hard as a rock. I felt color come to my cheeks. I shouldn’t have been this worked up, for all the reasons I’d been thinking about over the past…well, all day.

But maybe a little stress relief is harmless?

I entertained that thought as I started letting my hand move up and down the length of my shaft until my cock pulsed. My body started to slip into that comfortable state of willing distraction. There was always something hotter about getting worked up like this at the most inappropriate times, when I should have been doing something else. Damon was in the same house as me. He was my guest. I knew I shouldn’t let thoughts like these flow through my head.

Yet there they were, making my whole body shiver as I drew in a sharp breath.

I ran my hand over my face as I leaned back, thinking about that first time I saw him and the fantasy that ran through my head right after. I hadn’t had a chance to act on that yet, either, and after everything that had happened today, I knew I needed it.

I cast a glance over my shoulder as if to make sure he wasn’t about to burst into the room for whatever reason. And yet even as I did, I couldn’t help but think something was kind of nice about the thought of him doing that. Being as quiet as possible, I undid my pants and worked my cock out until it was sticking straight up, showing me how needy for release it was.

I held back a tight groan. There was a difference between just feeling aroused and the powerful tension that was making me feel so sore and pent up right then. And the fact that none of it should have been on my mind in the first place made it even more exciting. That was a simple fact.

I didn’t need lube. I wrapped my hand around my cock, and after making sure I had tissues nearby, I closed my eyes and pictured him throwing the door open behind me. My cock stood at attention as I gave it its first stroke, starting down at the base and running up its thick length to the very tip of my shaft. I was already so close, just from being near him. And that was all I wanted, something short and sweet to enjoy, get out of my system, and move on from. Nothing more.

I let my warm hand run up and down my cock, and as I did, I pictured him crossing the room with that stony, hardened look on his face. There was something so hot about his every move. He was a toughened man in more ways than one, and I sensed there was more to that under the surface. But in my mind’s eye, he was crossing the room and bending me over my own projects before wrapping his hand around my cock.

I imagined him asking me if I wanted him to give him the kind of service I really wanted, and I could see my own head nodding, too shocked and scandalized for words. My hand started moving faster, keeping quiet so as not to alert the actual Damon, but it didn’t take long before I could feel that white-hot sensation just barely held back by my endurance.

I was hopeless. I started pumping my shaft harder, thinking about that rock-hard body of his showing more of itself to me before he pushed me down on one of my sketching tables and stripped me naked, those piercing eyes glaring at everything my body had to offer him as he stroked my thick, desperate cock…

Every cell in my body seemed to swim for a few seconds as I came, feeling my cock pulse more powerfully than it had in years. I had to clench my legs in shame as my cheeks burned, but god, it felt so sweet and cathartic. I’d have to hide a little longer in here to keep Damon from seeing the afterglow on my face.

I thanked my past self for having a small bathroom built into my workshop, and I headed in there to clean up before coming back to the same chair and plopping down, sitting back and breathing heavily. It had been such a powerful orgasm that my chest felt tight, like I’d just run a marathon.

This is good, I told myself.

The more I took care of myself and flushed him out of my mind, the better. Enjoy myself and stay professional, that was the key. I had to keep my distance.

Besides, the more I found out about him, the more likely it was that I would continue skipping down this golden road to infatuation town, population me. It was better that I leave the mysteries where they lay and stop poking the bear. I still had painful memories of what it felt like the first time I really, truly fell for a straight man, and I was in no hurry to relive that hell again.

It was during college, my senior year at Columbia. I had been living with the same roommate for almost three years by that point, and we were thick as thieves. He regarded me as one of his best friends, and even though I tried my hardest to think of him in the same light, I couldn’t deny my true feelings. I was infatuated with him. I dreamed about him at night and daydreamed about him during the day. In class, I doodled in the margins of my notes and thought about what it would feel like to kiss him. I had this recurring fantasy of coming home from class and finding him naked in my bed, waiting for me to come home so he could confess his undying love and have passionate sex with me. I used to imagine, in the kind of florid detail only one in true lust can manage, how I would make him moan and sigh with pleasure. I could count a hundred different ways to touch him, a thousand different ways to tell him how I really felt.

Of course, he was straight. That fact kind of threw a gigantic wrench into my dreams. So, I never, ever told him how I felt about him. I never disclosed the secret that ached in my heart with every single beat. There was no point, and even as a dumb kid in my early twenties, I knew it. Naturally, that still didn’t stop me from feeling betrayed when he got engaged to his college girlfriend, who was a mutual buddy of ours. Even after being bullied in school and somewhat neglected by my distant parents, nothing had ever wounded me on such a deep level as when my college roommate got engaged to someone else. It was a fate that I had seen hurtling toward me like a freight train, and yet it somehow still managed to blindside me, leaving me spinning and dizzy in its wake. Still, I never let slip how badly it hurt. I attended their wedding. I even gave a short, sweet speech about how happy I was to see him so in love. That part wasn’t a total fabrication; I was happy to see him happy. I just wished he could have been happy with me.

“Ugh,” I groaned out loud, cradling my face in my hands.

Tinkering with my inventions was clearly not distracting enough, if I was still dwelling on my straight-guy crush hall of fame. I decided it was time to focus on someone who might actually be able to reciprocate my feelings, even on a superficial level. I took out my phone, scrolling through my contacts list. I needed a date for the event in London, anyway, and I knew of a guy who might just say yes. He was a friend of a friend. The truth was, I wanted Damon to be my date, but I knew that I needed to keep things professional with him. I also knew that he’s not into men, so there was no point in thinking about it.

I dialed his number and held the phone to my ear, letting out a long sigh as I thought about the fact that I didn’t really want to go with him.

“Hello?” answered my prospective date.

“Hey, Bradley. Long time no talk,” I said, immediately wincing at how dumb I sounded.

“Jamie Davenport! I haven’t heard from you in a while! How are you?” he asked brightly.

His tone was so upbeat that it instantly put me at ease.

“I’m great, man. I’m great. In fact, I actually have some kind of exciting news to share,” I began. “You know that water purification system I’ve been working on?”

“Uh-huh. I remember. You’re about to save the world from dirty water,” he said, his tone a little singsong.

Almost like he was flirting with me. Already. I smiled.

“Yeah, that. Exactly,” I chuckled. “Well, I’ve got this expo coming up soon where I’m going to present the finished product. I’m hoping to get some investors interested and finally start the ball rolling.”

“Oh, wow! That’s awesome, Jamie. I’m so happy for you!” he exclaimed.

“Thank you! Uh, anyway, the expo is in London. It’s going to be a pretty big deal, I think, and I was just wondering if… well, maybe you might like to attend. With me, I mean. As my date,” I added, wincing again at my own awkwardness.

You would think that after thirty-one years of being a gay man on this planet I might be a little better at talking to other guys, but apparently not. The truth was, the conversation was made even more awkward by the fact that I secretly wanted Damon instead of Bradley.

Finally, he replied. “Oh, how exciting! That sounds amazing, Jamie. I’m so honored. Of course, I’ll be your date.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “Uh, well, I know it’s getting late, so I’ll let you go. But I’ll send you the details about the expo tomorrow. Does that sound okay?”

“For sure! Sounds perfect,” Bradley answered cheerily.

“Okay. Cool. Well, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Looking forward to it!” he chimed. “Bye, Jamie!”

“Later,” I said and hung up.

I heaved a sigh as I set the phone down on my desk, staring out the wide window at the moon glowing pale in the sky. Well, that was settled, at least. It was strange, though. I knew I should have felt relieved now that I had a date. It was one more item checked off my to-do list, and perhaps it would give me something to think about besides the extremely off-limits straight man living in my house with me. And yet, as I sat there thinking about it, I didn’t feel relieved at all. I felt uneasy.

I just wished I knew why.