Colt looked back and up at him, offering him a huge grin over one shoulder.
“I’m not at all ashamed of myself for looking, baby.” Not one little bit.
That earned him a wiggle and a shimmy, then a happy cry sounded. “La! I found it.”
He patted the bed. “Let me see. We need some finger foods and stuff, right?”
“Mm-hmm. I like french fries.” Colt clicked his teeth together. “I like to crunch.”
“French fries, then. Watch those teeth.” He grinned and took the book from Colt. “And the cheese platter, yeah? Maybe a bottle of wine?”
“Mmm. Works for me. Something red and rich.”
“Yes, perfect.” He reached over and picked up the phone to call in the order, adding malt vinegar for the fries and something sweet for dessert.
Colt’s hands found his back, the fingers digging in, playing his muscles like a maestro.
“Oh. Oh wow. That feels great. You have the best hands.” He let his head hang forward, melting into Colt’s touch.
“Merci.” Colt hummed softly, singing to him again, searching out little knots of tension.
“De rien.” High school French for the win. “But I’m the one who should be—oh, right there—thanking you right now.” He groaned as Colt found one of his hot spots. “I have a… ooh. Yep. Right there.”
“Mm-hmm. I feel.” Colt dug in, rubbing the knot out until he wanted to scream or purr or melt or something.
“Ask me anything right now and I’d say yes. I would. You’re magic.” He was actually kneading the sheets with one hand.
“Mmm. Good to know. I’ll keep that in my pocket.” Colt moved down to work on his ass, his legs.
He stretched out, very ready to enjoy all the attention. “The piece I want music for is pretty simple. And it’s not all that long really. But I love telling stories with my body, and the music will fill in the gaps, add emotion, tension. We would work it out together, make the pieces fit, you know? And then you’d record it for me for the show.”
“I can do that. You show me what you want, I will play it.” The confidence in Colt’s voice made him smile.
“I have no doubt. I’ll show you what I do. I bet you’ll figure out what it needs. And I was thinking guitar, but now that I know you play such a huge range, you may have other ideas there too. We can collaborate a little.”
There was a knock at the door. “Oh. I can’t get up right now.” He could, but he was so relaxed. “Will you?”
“Surely do.” Colt stood up, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around his waist before answering the door. “Ooo, that all smells good. How’re you?”
The soft back-and-forth, so Southern, so very warm and welcoming, made Kyle smile and made the young server blush. He’d noticed that when Colt asked someone how they were, he actually listened to the answer. He could learn to love a guy like that, he really could. Maybe even a musician. Maybe. Though that might be a bad idea.
When the door closed again, he tossed off the sheet he’d pulled over his ass for modesty and made himself sit up. “So do you try to make people blush, or does that just happen to everyone you talk to?” He grinned.
“Hmm?” Colt settled the little rolling cart close by and started pulling off lids.
He gave Colt a fond smile. Of course Colt would have no idea what he was talking about. He reached for the wine and the bottle opener. “Never mind, baby. What are you feeding me first?”
“It all looks good. You like a certain kind of cheese?”
“If it’s cheese, I like it.” He leaned toward Colt. “Surprise me. Again.” He winked.
Colt explored his options, then carefully made up a bite with cracker and cheese and a dollop of some sort of jelly.
“That’s pretty.” He opened his mouth to accept the bite and made a little show of holding on to Colt’s fingers with his teeth for a second. He poured them each a glass of wine and handed one to Colt. “Yummy.”
“Thank you.” Colt lifted his glass. “Bon temps, cher.”
“Cheers to you, baby.” The wine was perfect, rich and dark. He reached for a french fry and held it out. “You have family back home?”