Maybe This Time Page 6

  Liam said, “Sam? What’s the verdict? Does he need your help?”

  Raising his hands and laughing again, Sam stepped away in the direction of his friends. “I’m not getting involved. But I like to think I’m pretty good at what I do, so….” He shrugged. “See you guys later.” He spared a glance at Ryan before turning and walking the few steps over to his friends’ table.

  Liam took the spot next to Dave. “Seriously, he’s great. You should all go see him.”

  Dave clapped a hand on Liam’s knee, eyes bright with amusement. “When you were singing his praises these last few months, you left out the part where he was really fucking hot too.”

  Liam smirked. “Is he? I never noticed.”

  “Mhmm.”

  As his friends carried on teasing each other, Ryan’s gaze drifted back over to Sam’s table. Five of them sat around it, four on the two sofas and one on a stool.

  Sam had joined Matt, and when he was deep in conversation with him, Josh nudged Ryan with his knee, drawing his attention.

  “What?”

  Josh inclined his head ever so slightly in Matt’s direction. “Sooo…, I guess you should have seen that coming? What with it being his local, too.”

  Ryan sighed and took a long drink of his pint. “Shut up.”

  “Not going to go over and say hello?”

  “No.”

  They lapsed into silence for long enough that Ryan started to think Josh had let it drop.

  “Looks like I was wrong before.” Josh kept sneaking glances over to where Matt and his friends were.

  Ryan picked up his drink, feeling the need to do something with his hands. “About what? And stop looking over at their table.” A few pints into their evening, Josh was not all that subtle.

  He gave Ryan’s jeans, then his T-shirt, a pointed look. “About you getting any tonight. Judging from the way Matt keeps staring at you, it’s a good thing you wore your ‘come fuck me’ outfit, after all.”

  “Yeah, whatever. You’re just drunk and seeing things.”

  “Oh fuck you, I’ve had three pints.” He leant closer. “Look over at their table and tell me he isn’t looking at you like he wants to eat you.”

  With an exaggerated sigh, Ryan set his glass down and kept his gaze purposely on Josh. “I’m not looking.”

  “That’s because you know I’m right.”

  “Bollocks.” Despite his best intentions, Ryan felt his gaze drifting. Although he hadn’t believed Josh in the first place, it still stung when he saw the evidence to the contrary. All five of them were leant forward, arms resting on their knees as they talked animatedly about God knew what. They weren’t overly loud. And the noise from the other rooms, coupled with the music, made it difficult to pick up what they were saying. Another group of people came in then, and as Ryan was about to turn away and tell Josh he was full of shit, Matt glanced up at the newcomers. And then at Ryan.

  Ryan froze, rooted to the spot by the expression on Matt’s face. Maybe Josh had a point. Ryan had been on the end of enough looks like that to know what they meant. Matt didn’t shy away when their eyes met, like Ryan expected him to. He didn’t seem to care that he'd been caught staring—keeping eye contact while taking a drink of his pint, then slowly and deliberately licking his lips.

  The sight of Matt’s pink tongue gliding over his plump bottom lip had Ryan shifting a little in his seat, his cock stirring with interest. It had to be written all over his face because Matt grinned at him before joining the conversation again. Fuck.

  Josh nudged him again. “See what I mean?”

  Ryan shook his head. “Whatever. I don’t think he’s interested, and I already told you I’m not.”

  “Right.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  Ryan wasn’t convinced, but Liam and Dave had stopped discussing Sam's various merits and were now watching him and Josh.

  Liam’s gaze flicked between them before finally settling on Ryan. “So hot runner guy’s called Matt, then?

  “Yep. Apparently so.”

  Liam took a drink of his beer, then casually said, “He’s gay and single, in case you were wondering.”

  Ryan had been in the middle of taking a drink and he struggled to swallow it down without choking. “I don’t need you to set me up with anyone, you know.”

  Liam smirked. “I was asking about Sam’s friends and he told me.”

  Dave leant back in his seat, shoulders resting against the high back of the sofa, close to Liam but not touching. “You’re not seeing anyone though, right?”

  “No, but—”

  “And think how easy it’d be to walk home after.”

  Ryan rolled his eyes. “Not happening.” He managed to steer the conversation away from Matt and spent the next hour or so discussing relative merits of Poldark and whether or not the scythe scene was the best or the bit where he was in the sea.

  By the time it was Ryan’s round, he wasn’t drunk, but he wasn’t sober either. Josh had come to give him a hand and leant on the bar next to him.

  There were two people in front of Ryan waiting to be served, and Josh nodded in the direction of the toilets. “Gonna go for a piss while you're waiting.”

  “All right.” Ryan watched as the barman deftly mixed drinks and pulled pints, fascinated by the length of his fingers. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he felt someone brush up against him, but it didn’t seem longer than a couple of minutes. Without looking away from the barman, be muttered, “That was quick.”

  “Do you think so? I’ve spent the last hour deciding whether it’s a bad idea or not.”

  That wasn’t Josh’s voice. Ryan’s head snapped round to find Matt propped up on the bar, watching him—blue-grey eyes bore into his.

  Shit.

  Chapter Six

  Matt smirked as Ryan’s expression quickly switched from surprised to curious.

  “And?” Ryan cocked his head to one side, gaze flicking between Matt’s eyes and his mouth.

  “I’m still deciding.” Not true at all. It was a terrible idea—had been when he first laid eyes on Ryan this time last week, and still was now. The alcohol currently running through his system made him not care as much as he should.

  Ryan opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then said, “It’s a bad idea.”

  Instead of agreeing and going back to his friends, Matt found himself asking, “Why?”

  “Because you live practically above me. It’d be—” He waved a hand between them. “—unnecessarily awkward.”

  My thoughts exactly. He lowered his voice. “It doesn’t have to be. We’re both consenting adults. It’s just sex.”

  The man on Ryan’s other side started to move away from the bar, drinks in hand. Ryan held Matt’s gaze for a second longer, then turned to give his order to the barman.

  When he’d finished, Matt tapped him on the forearm. “We’re off in a bit. I’m in flat 3A if you change your mind.” He turned and left as Ryan’s mate walked out from the toilets and didn’t look back at Ryan. He’d either take Matt up on his offer or he wouldn’t.

  Back at his table, his friends were finishing off their drinks. Matt took his seat and picked up his glass, draining the last quarter in one.

  “You were a long time.” Sam waited for him to set his glass down before gesturing at the table opposite. “Find anyone interesting in the toilets?”

  “At the bar, actually.”

  “Oh?” Sam stood when the others did, and Matt followed suit. “And?” he asked when Matt didn’t offer anything further.

  “And nothing.” He pulled on his jacket and stepped away from the table, waiting for the others to do the same.

  Sam joined him, and Matt headed for the exit. Halfway there, they met Ryan and his mate—Josh, if he remembered correctly—coming the other way, drinks in hand.

  Josh stopped, forcing Ryan to do the same. “Off already?”

  “Going to get some food,” S
am answered.

  Ryan met his gaze, frowning.

  “Not me, though,” Matt added. He didn’t want Ryan thinking he wasn’t serious about his offer. “I’m knackered. Going home to bed.” He winked, warmth curling in his belly when Ryan’s frown vanished, a heated look replacing it.

  Sam, the bastard, pointed his thumb at Matt’s hair. “Old man here needs his beauty sleep.”

  Matt ignored him. He’d heard it all before, many, many times. “Whatever.” He nudged Sam to start walking again. “I’m sure I’ll see you around. Night.” He flashed Ryan a smile and followed Sam through the rest of the pub until they were outside.

  The five of them stood in the car park.

  “Sure you don’t fancy something to eat?” Sam checked the time on his phone. “It’s only ten thirty. Come on?”

  “Nah, not in the mood for curry tonight.” Which was what they always ended up getting. And besides, with any luck, he’d be busy sometime in the next hour. Sam looked kind of put out, so he smiled. “Next time, though.”

  They said their goodnights, and Matt walked back to his flat, while the rest of them headed off up the road.

  Matt shoved his hands in his pockets, the night air having a little bite to it, and his thoughts strayed back to Ryan.

  He hadn’t gone out with the intention of picking up, especially not in that pub. And especially not Ryan.

  But there he’d been with his short, dark hair—which Sam insisted could look better, but Matt thought looked good as it was—and that sexy-as-fuck dark stubble. Matt preferred to be clean-shaven. Silver hair was one thing, but he didn’t want it on his face, too. On other guys, though, he found facial hair very appealing.

  The more Matt had watched him, talking animatedly with his mates, the more he’d liked what he saw. Ryan was tall, not as tall as Matt, but not far off. And he had a nice set of shoulders—Matt was all in favour of broad shoulders. Ryan’s outfit had given a fair indication of his build, and of course it happened to be the same lean-but-toned build that Matt normally went for.

  Add three and a half pints of cider into the mix and Matt had come to the conclusion that maybe he should go for it. After all, he’d only run into Ryan once since Saturday. Literally. Surely, they could easily avoid each other for a while if necessary?

  The walk home seemed to take no time at all, and Matt was back at his flat without really noticing his surroundings. He unlocked the front door to the building and trooped up the stairs, to his own door.

  Once inside, he kicked off his shoes and hung up his jacket. The living room windows overlooked the road he’d walked down, and without turning on the light, Matt wandered over to have a peek. Not that he expected to see Ryan—they’d only just got another round in when Matt and his friends left the pub—but he couldn’t help leaning against the glass and taking a look.

  Apart from a couple walking their dog, the street was empty.

  Matt slipped his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. Ten fifty-three. Last orders would already have been called, and he didn’t think the pub had a late opening licence. That meant if Ryan was going to come, it’d be within the next thirty minutes. At least he hoped it would be. If they went for food after the pub like his mates had, Ryan could forget it. Matt didn’t intend to sit around for hours waiting for him. No, he’d give Ryan until eleven thirty, and then he was going to bed and not getting up for anybody—no matter how hot they were.

  He went to get a drink of water from the kitchen, then settled on the sofa and turned on the TV, flicking through until he found a not-too-old episode of Criminal Minds. Agent Emily Prentiss was in charge of the BAU, so at least it was the current season. Matt sipped his water, watched Reid being hauled into prison, and got sucked into the storyline. Only when he yawned for the second time when the adverts came on, did he think to check the time. Eleven thirty-five. Clearly he’s not coming then.

  Feeling more than a bit disappointed, Matt decided to go change into something a bit comfier and watch the rest of the episode. It was the first part of a double-bill. Might as well watch them both.

  Pausing the TV, Matt then went into his bedroom and grabbed a pair of dark purple check pyjama bottoms from his drawer. Keeping his socks on, he swapped his jeans for the pyjamas and sighed happily. His jeans weren’t all that tight, but it was still a relief not to have his junk so confined anymore. He stripped off his designer T-shirt, intending to grab a plain old white one to sleep in, but a knock on the door stopped him in his tracks.

  Matt stood there, debating whether to answer it or not. Five minutes ago he could quite happily have watched the end of Criminal Minds, but now? Now he had the option of hot—hopefully—no-strings sex with the cute guy from downstairs.

  He was thirty-eight, not sixty-eight.

  Matt left his bedroom and walked shirtless to the front door, not bothering to check through the peephole before opening it. Ryan’s retreating form greeted him, stopping at the sound of the door opening.

  He turned around and gave Matt a lingering once-over from head to toe, then back up again.

  Matt’s skin tingled in its wake, and a delicious shiver ran down his spine at the thought of Ryan’s hands and mouth tracing the same path. He leant against the door frame and crossed his arms. Ryan’s hair had that messy look to it, as though he’d run his fingers through it too many times. Was he nervous? Matt smiled, attempting to put him at ease. “Thought you weren’t gonna show.”

  Ryan glanced at the floor, a nervous half-laugh filling the small hallway. His hand found its way into his hair as he met Matt’s gaze again, proving his theory. “I wasn’t going to.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “Josh.”

  “Oh?” Not the answer Matt was expecting.

  Ryan smiled, and it reached all the way to his eyes. Dark brown, not blue. “He said, and I quote, ‘What's a little morning-after awkwardness in the face of hot sex?’ I figured he had a point.”

  Matt laughed. “It doesn’t have to be awkward at all. I like you. I’d really like to have sex with you. But that’s all it is. I’m not looking for anything more.” He smiled and stepped to the side, leaving room for Ryan to get past if he wanted to. “If that’s something you’d be interested in, then come inside. If it’s not, that’s fine—”

  “It is”—Ryan took a step closer—“something I’m interested in.” He moved closer still until his shoes brushed the ends of Matt’s sock-covered toes.

  Ryan’s gaze dipped to Matt’s mouth, then lower, and he reached out to trail his fingers down Matt’s chest and stomach, following the line of his happy trail to the waistband of his pyjama bottoms.

  Matt looked down between them at his already prominent bulge on display. His bottoms hid absolutely nothing, the material tenting as his cock hardened.

  Ryan’s jeans were considerably tighter, but the outline of his dick easy to see. Matt reached out and palmed it, earning himself a soft moan as Ryan’s eyes closed.

  “You better come in then,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the head of Ryan’s cock—two layers of clothing getting in his way.

  “Yeah.”

  Matt hooked his fingers in the top of Ryan’s jeans and tugged him inside, gently pushing the door shut behind him. “Bedroom’s this—”

  Ryan stepped into him, backing him up against the wall. He cupped Matt’s face in both hands, pushed a thigh between his legs, and kissed him. He tasted of minty toothpaste, with a hint of the cider he’d drunk earlier, and Matt smiled into the kiss as he realised Ryan had gone home and brushed his teeth first. He slid his hands around Ryan’s back, dipping low until he could grab his arse cheeks and pull him close enough to grind against.

  God, that felt good.

  Ryan’s fingers stroked the back of his neck, the sensitive skin there tingling with each touch. He kissed as though this was all he wanted, not a means to an end, all slow and deliberate with teasing flicks of his tongue that set Matt’s body alight. The r
ough edge of Ryan’s jacket brushed Matt’s bare chest, and the firm press of his hips against Matt’s only added to the sensation, and Matt clung to him, nails digging into denim.

  “Bedroom,” he whispered between kisses. “Come on.”

  Ryan let him go long enough for Matt to grab his hand and lead him to the second door on the right. He opened the door but left the light off—the brightness from the hallway more than enough illumination.

  Ryan kicked off his shoes and shed his jacket as he followed Matt towards the bed.

  Matt waved a finger at Ryan’s jeans and T-shirt. “And the rest.” He then slid his thumbs under the waistband of both his pyjama bottoms and underwear and pushed them slowly down his thighs. Ryan stared, transfixed, halfway through undoing his jeans. His gaze swept down Matt’s body, the heat of it warming everywhere it touched.

  Matt had always enjoyed being watched. He took his time, letting the clothes drop to the floor and slowly stepping out of them, all the while working his cock in a lazy rhythm.

  Ryan licked his lips and swallowed. “Fuck.”

  After glancing over his shoulder, Matt stepped back and sat down on the bed, pushing himself back a bit so he could lean on his hands, legs spread wide, and feet flat on the floor.

  Waiting.

  Tilting his head to the side, he met Ryan’s gaze. He still had all his clothes on. “Hurry up.”

  That seemed to snap Ryan out of it, and he shoved his jeans and underwear down, rushing to step out of them while pulling his T-shirt over his head at the same time. The result was less than smooth. His T-shirt flew across the room as he got his feet tangled up in the bottom of his jeans, and he stumbled forward, collapsing on top of Matt and knocking the breath out of them both.

  “Fuck, sorry.” Ryan rolled to the side, biting his lip as though trying not to laugh. “But you did say hurry.”

  Matt grinned back at him. “I did.”

  It might not have been intentional, but now they were naked and on Matt’s bed, and he could feel the heat from Ryan’s body where they touched. He trailed a hand along Ryan’s thigh, the soft, dark hairs tickling his palm.