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I kiss him again and he melts against me, and Jesus Christ, that kiss. I was hoping that the first kiss was some kind of fluke, because people make movies about a kiss this good. Maybe this could be what real love feels like. Maybe it’s supposed to be this easy, perfect fit.

I pull back and touch his hair. It’s soft and thick, the color of chestnuts. It smells of shampoo. “Tell me one fantasy you want me to make happen tonight.”

“Tonight? Hmmm.” He looks up and to the side, gnawing on his bottom lip in a way I haven’t seen outside the movies. I stare at that lip as I rub my hands up and down his sides. I can see he’s hit on one he likes when the corner of his lip quirks up, transforming his face. But then, he looks a bit wistful. “No. Sorry. I think that’s not a good idea.”

“Okay, then, let me try one for you. You’re a teacher. I can be the dumb jock who needs to pass.”

He cringes immediately. “Ew. No. Not even for a joke. No. Please never go there again.”

Okay. Noted. That’s a pretty strong reaction for one joke, and his voice went somewhere it hasn’t been all day. Either some professor did him really wrong or he’s really nervous about living out that fantasy. Considering that he teaches high school kids, I guess I can see why there’d be a pretty firm line there.

I change tactics, dropping my voice to a rumble. “Why don’t you tell me what you were thinking of just now, then, and decided against telling me? What do you want me to be?”

He looks at me directly. “Let’s keep this simple and uncomplicated.”

A raw mixture of delight and disappointment catches in my chest. Apparently, I wanted simple and uncomplicated like a possum wants pajamas.

Well, fuck, that’s a lot to take in right now.

“You okay?” Bastien asks, studying me.

I ease him off the wall. “I’m fine.”

“Would you like to stay the night?” he asks.

I know the answer before he’s finished getting the words out, because something inside me just leaped like a dolphin testing out the water. “I can do that.”

He smiles at me and I kiss him, running my hands below the waistband of his jeans to cup his firm round ass. I move him toward his king-size bed. We part when we’re both running out of breath. I stroke the side of his chin. “I have only one goal,” I tell him, “and that is that when you wake tomorrow morning, you’ll think ‘This was the best decision I ever made.’”

He gives me a look that he’s probably given to dozens of young men just like me over the course of his career in teaching, and it says, very clearly, I think not. “I once had homemade bacon-maple ice cream, and it was sublime. As far as good decisions go, you have to understand that you’re facing stiff competition.”

I laugh at him and start working the buttons on his shirt. “Well, I like a challenge. And, also, I like it when you’re sassy.” I push his shirt off his shoulders and pull up his undershirt. His body is lean and sinewy, his arms well-defined but slender. He has a dusting of dark hair on his chest. Everything about him seems proportionate. He’s wearing a silver medallion of a man carrying a baby on his back.

“What’s this?” I ask, lifting it up. The words say Saint Christophe, protégez-nous.

“Oh, it’s an old Saint Christopher medallion. It’s for luck. I forgot I had it on.” He reaches back to undo the catch.

“No. Leave it on. It seems to work. Somebody’s getting lucky.” I run one hand over his chest. He’s not exactly cut, but I can tell he does something that keeps him in shape. He doesn’t move at all, and I can feel the weight of his self-consciousness between us. His breath hitches as I tease his nipple. I shed my shirt and unbutton my jeans. He runs his hands appreciatively over my abs.

I love the feel of his hands on me. I’ve worked hard on my body, and I keep eye contact with him at every moment I can. He flashes me a smile, but it’s not the amused look he’d been giving me when I was still just a game to him.

“You’re amazing,” I tell him. “I like it when you do that.”

“You make it sound like I’m doing everything right.”

“Sorry. I like praising. It’s my thing.”

He shakes his head. “Of course. I forgot. I didn’t think about how that would manifest. I thought you would be telling me I’m a good boy like you’re training a Labrador. Can I praise you, too?”

“Absolutely.” I draw him toward me. “And I’m going to give you fair warning. Just this once.” I let my fingers trace up against his back. “If you keep ticking all my boxes like this, you’re going to make it very hard for me to let you go.”

His laughter is the last thing I expected. It explodes out of his chest. His eyes glitter with amusement. This is a man in total control of himself. “Empty flattery will get you nowhere.”

Well, he’s had his warning. “Oh, I already think you’re going to be special.”

He stands a little straighter against me, like pride is swelling up within him, and then he laughs. It’s rich and sweet, and I want more of it. When he sits on the bed, there’s something unnaturally graceful about the way his body moves. He doesn’t look away from me for a second, even as I unbutton his jeans and slowly take them down, freeing his cock before I step out of my clothes.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, like I’m pulling it out of him. “I know it’s going to sound shallow, but I think I have to physically make myself not look at you. I just want to keep staring.” He laughs.