Just a Bit Dirty (Straight Guys #10)(44)

Feeling Shawn’s gaze on him, Miles hastily looked away.

He determinedly didn’t look Ian’s way as Ian exchanged rather cold pleasantries with the Rutledges. Ian’s voice really sounded cold and sharp when he talked to them. Derek’s voice wasn’t exactly friendly either as he introduced Ian to his friends.

“And you already know Miles,” Derek finished, his black eyes watching Ian carefully.

Cold blue eyes met Derek’s, steady and calm.

“I do,” Ian said, his face inscrutable.

Finally, he looked straight at Miles, and those eyes seemed to suck Miles right into them.

Miles swayed on his feet and had to grab the windowsill behind him to stop himself from moving toward Ian. He wanted to. God help him, he wanted to. The Rutledges, for all their friendliness, felt nowhere near as close to him as Ian did. It felt like he was on the wrong side of the clear divide in the room.

Miles swallowed and gave Ian a faint nod that hopefully looked neutral instead of making it obvious that he couldn’t speak, his mouth dry.

Ian just stared at him for a moment before looking away.

“The dinner is ready,” Shawn said, breaking the tense silence. “Why don’t we all move into the dining room?”

There were affirmative murmurs, but Miles could barely hear them. He’d never been so acutely aware of another person in his life. Everyone else but Ian seemed blurry, Ian’s tall body the only thing in focus. It felt as if the whole room was slanted in Ian’s direction. It was unbearable.

The dinner passed in a haze. Ian was seated as far from him as possible, which could be a coincidence, of course, but Miles had a sneaking suspicion that it was Shawn’s doing.

Shawn shouldn’t have bothered, Miles thought moodily. It wasn’t as though Ian was even looking at him. He hadn’t looked at Miles once since the dinner started. Not that he missed Ian’s creepy staring or anything. He didn’t. Obviously.

It just felt… wrong. To be in the same room with Ian and not even worthy of a glance.

Ian was holding a conversation about politics, of all things, with Derek, Shawn, and Alexander, though he didn’t bother to pretend to be friendly or nice. Although Miles had never thought of Ian as nice, it threw him off how different—how much colder—this version of Ian was. He seemed to regard Shawn with faint contempt and derision, which wasn’t surprising if he was an older brother of the girl who was publicly jilted by Derek in favor of Shawn. To his credit, Shawn just smiled wider at Ian’s thinly veiled insults while Derek’s jaw became tighter and tighter as the evening dragged on. At this rate, Ian was going to get punched before the dinner was over.

Stop fixating on him, dammit, Miles told himself, glaring at his salad. He isn’t even looking at you. This is pathetic.

Annoyed with himself, Miles started a conversation with Christian, who was seated next to him.

“… they’re out of danger, but my dad will need extensive rehabilitation for his damaged spine. My mother had a head wound, and now she has some memory problems, but the doctors think she should get better in time…”

Miles could barely pay attention anymore. He could finally feel Ian’s gaze on him—he wouldn’t mistake that feeling for anything else—and it was a struggle not to turn his head.

After a few moments, he lost the battle with himself and shot him a quick look.

But Ian wasn’t looking at him. He was leaned back in his chair, sipping his wine idly as he conversed with Alexander.

Miles deflated. Had he imagined it?

Why wasn’t Ian looking at him? They’d parted on friendly terms, technically. There was no reason for them not to talk. Like friends. Except Miles couldn’t see Ian as a friend. Maybe he never had, not really. He saw a man first, always. He didn’t know what it was about Ian that made him so aware of Ian’s body, his hands, his eyes, his wry lips. Objectively, Ian wasn’t the most handsome man in the room; Alexander was. Alexander was a blue-eyed brunet too, with truly Hollywood looks. Ian’s features, while handsome, were too sharp, too hard. Objectively, he shouldn’t seem like the most attractive man in the room.

But fuck, he totally was the hottest. Miles wanted to lick along that razor-sharp jawline and suck at that Adam’s apple. He wanted to bury his fingers in Ian’s hair, pull Ian’s face to his own neck, and beg him for more marks and hickeys.

Swallowing, Miles dragged his eyes away—only to find Shawn’s watchful gaze on him.

Dammit. That was another reason why he couldn’t just be friendly to Ian: Miles was the Rutledges’ guest, their friend. Derek and Shawn definitely wouldn’t understand his pining after the man who was supposedly out to ruin them.

But was he?

Frowning, Miles returned his gaze to his salad.

Was Ian really as ruthless as Derek thought?

Miles’s fork paused on its way to his mouth.

Maybe he should find out. Maybe he should get Ian alone, just to ask him about his intentions. After all, didn’t he owe Derek and Shawn? The least he could do to repay their kindness was to find out for sure whether Ian really was playing some dishonest game or not.

The more Miles thought about it, the more he liked the idea. He wanted to help Derek and Shawn, and he liked the thought of just asking openly instead of some underhanded, ridiculous tactics like spying.

Decision made, Miles returned his eyes to Ian.