Alec sent his friend a small smile to ease the sharp edge to his words.
With a sigh that bordered on melodramatic, Noah reached for the cheese board. “Fine,” he said, slicing a piece of Gouda. “But when it all goes to hell in an overpriced messenger bag, I’m going to find new and creative ways to say I-told-you-so. On a daily basis. For the rest of your life.”
Noah’s gaze remained firm. “Which means every morning you’ll be subjected to a wakeup call from me as I deliver a long-winded reminder of why you should follow your friends’ advice.”
“Another good reason to have Noah’s number blocked,” Tyler said.
Alec shot his ex a small smile, grateful for the loss of hostility and what appeared to be a return to their supportive, collegial relationship. With any luck they could relearn how to be friends. Standing firm in the face of Noah’s well-intentioned meddling felt like a major accomplishment too.
Alec had no idea how long Dylan would continue with a status quo that consisted of easy companionship, great sex, and zero talk about what the situation meant.
For now, Alec intended to sit back and let Dylan set the pace.
Chapter Eleven
“You’ll never find another one like her, Mr. Booth.”
Standing on the driveway, Dylan kept his eyes on the Triumph TR5 Trophy and bit back his disagreement with the owner’s claim, acutely aware of Alec’s gaze on his back.
“Mmm hmm,” Dylan murmured, sure he sounded as unconvinced as he felt.
Dylan had already taken the bike for a quick spin around the block, and seriously, the girl ran rougher than some of the neighborhoods Dylan had grown up in. Weird to now be standing with Alec in front of a middle-class home located in middle-class suburbia, the warm breeze smelling of freshly cut grass. A place so squeaky clean and sweet the sight made Dylan slightly sick to his stomach, like he’d overdosed on cotton candy and been sentenced to Stepford neighborhood hell.
“Why are you selling her?” Dylan asked.
“Between my new job and the family, I don’t have much time for riding anymore,” the owner answered.
The twenty-something man bouncing a drooling, barefoot baby in his arms was watching Dylan eagerly, clearly committed to making the sale. Dylan was inspecting the bike. And Alec…
Well, Alec appeared to be checking Dylan out.
The heat crawling up Dylan’s back and sweat dotting his neck had nothing to do with the late afternoon sun and everything to do with that appreciative gaze. To cover his partial hard-on, he knelt to study the front tire.
Today’s plan appeared to be working. Alec always looked turned on whenever Dylan and motorcycles got within ten yards of each other. Dylan figured the bike that James Dean drove would add some extra sex appeal.
A couple of days ago, Dylan had been kneeling in Alec’s garage, fixing the clutch on the Ducati, when Alec had come home from work. The flash of lust in Alec’s expression would have brought Dylan to his knees if he hadn’t been there already. But Dylan’s grease-stained hands and sweaty T-shirt must have been more than Alec could stomach. The man had headed directly into the kitchen to make dinner.
Undaunted, Dylan had dragged Alec along today. He hoped to generate a little more of that motorcycle-induced lust because, two weeks after they’d first landed back in bed together, Dylan had only one complaint.
Why did he always have to instigate the touching first?
Dylan hated the thoughts now plaguing his brain, like maybe Alec didn’t want him as much as he wanted Alec. Or maybe the sex wasn’t as good as Dylan thought. But, damn it, he knew better. Alec might not start their marathon sessions, but he damn well enjoyed them. It seemed more likely that Dylan represented a convenient source of sex until Alec got over his ex.
Crap. Where had that thought come from? As Alec and the owner chatted behind him, Dylan squeezed the tire in frustration, a lame-ass attempt to pretend to check the pressure.
In the beginning the situation hadn’t bothered him because he was still busy adjusting to the concept of sleeping with the same person for more than two nights in a row. And he wasn’t even gonna touch on the fact that the person was a dude.
He wanted Alec, case closed. He wanted Alec on him, under him, or any other way he could have him. Dylan refused to waste time wringing his hands and weeping in his morning coffee or moaning why, like a teen who turns everything into an emotional nuclear event.
So he’d moved on to the more pressing concern of Alec’s behavior.
Dylan believed Alec’s assertiveness the night of Noah’s party had either been an anomaly due to alcohol or something was holding Alec back in bed, a fact Dylan hadn’t been able to overcome by trying new positions and unusual ways to make Alec come.
Except for blowjobs. Dylan couldn’t stomach the thought of sucking a guy off, a dick in his mouth. Not again.