Page 7 of The Way Home

He was trying so hard to sound cool, which probably meant he was being a dumbarse. He hadn’t gotten to this step with anyone yet—going home with them.

It felt like kind of a big deal.

“I live very close,” Caleb said as his thigh bumped up against Jamie’s under the table. “If you want, we can go back to my place. I think I have some N.A. beer in my fridge.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jamie wasn’t opposed to alcohol, but he rode his bikeeverywhere,so it was rare that he drank. “That would be cool.”

Caleb’s brown eyes twinkled with amusement, and he muttered something under his breath that sounded likedamn, you’re cute, before sipping the rest of his drink and standing. “Let me close out my tab, say goodbye to the team, and we can go back to my place, ‘kay?”

The wordsmy placesent a shot of arousal up Jamie’s spine, and now his whole body felt hot. As Caleb walked over to the barkeep, Jamie blew a breath out, puffing up his cheeks in an attempt to cool down his overheating body.

His eyes, on their very own accord, followed Caleb the entire journey to the bar, and then slid down his body as he leaned over and handed a credit card to the woman serving. A charming smile spread over Caleb’s handsome face, and the barkeep definitely blushed as she plucked the card from his hand and brought him his check.

Bloody hell, the man was…dazzling.

The confidence in his posture turned every head as he politely eased around people. He wore a simple Chelsea T-shirt that hugged the lean muscles of his arms. And, fuck, hishands…

Jamie wanted to be thrown around by those hands.

Was that what was going to happen tonight? He wasn’t sure. Itwould be very typical for Jamie to misread cues and end up, like, eating hummus on this man’s sofa.

Or, more likely, Caleb was looking for a quick blowjob, and then Jamie would probably have to bike home with a raging boner.

He drained the rest of his drink and set it down on the table.

Caleb didn’t seem like an arsehole; he was definitely interested insomethinghappening. Why else did a beautiful, extremely fit man call you cute and ask you to go to his flat? Sex, right?

“Wow, I leave you alone for one second, and you’re in another universe.”

Jamie’s head shot up to see Caleb standing over him with a big, toothy grin.

“Sorry. Did you say something?”

“Yeah.” Caleb nodded to the door. “Ready to go?”

Another zap of arousal thrummed Jamie’s blood as Caleb led him out the door with a hand on his low back. His legs felt like jelly now. They walked down the street in silence, the only sounds the soft creak of his bike wheels and the clunk of his helmet knocking against the frame.

Jamie’s thoughts, on the other hand, were deafening, and it was a definite possibility that Caleb could hear the racket in his head.

He ought to say something. Anything. Maybe ask about America? He’d never been there, but he did watch a documentary on serial killers in Chicago, but he probably shouldn’t bring that up.

Perhaps he could inquire about the athletic trainer bit, though his knowledge of sports began and ended with cycling.

Would asking about Caleb’s family be weird? Too intimate for what was, realistically, a one-night stand?

Most blokes he’d met in London didn’t really want to chat, at least not properly. It was sort of just a gateway to the blowjob or handjob. Whenever he tried, he usually got laughed off or brushed aside.

A shiver ran through him at the memory from last week—the bloke who’d mocked his bike helmet and then propositioned him. He’d at least said no tothatguy.

The club scene had required a lot of dancing, which Jamie wasdreadful at, and sweaty, sloppy snogs that tasted of cheap alcohol and bad decision making.

Kissing was nice but… wouldn’t it be nice to talk, too?

If he could just think of something remotely clever to say.

“It’s just a few more blocks that way.”

Caleb’s deep voice pulled Jamie from his overthinking. His big body had drifted closer and, every few steps, Jamie felt the heat of his arm brush against his own.