Chapter 12

If only he’d been thinking rationally, he could have figured it out, found a way to make Tom turn around. Instead, all he could think about was brightly lit corridors, antiseptic smell, and white-clad doctors forcing him to do things he didn’t want to do.

“Nope,” Tom said firmly. “We’re doing this. You’ll have your hand looked at, and then, on Sunday, I’ll cook for you and I’ll…give you one kiss at the end of the night.”

Jason gritted his teeth. He couldn’t do this.

* * * *

Tom’s knuckles turned white as he clutched the steering wheel and parked. It wasn’t the kiss—hell, he’d love to kiss Jason. And date? Tom didn’t date. He went to a bar, had a drink, and picked up a willing twink. Some quick fumbling in the dark, nothing more. He liked to think he was a considerate lover. He made sure the guy had a good time, but then he said goodbye and never talked to them again.