Alek spent the next hour seducing Ian between talking shop, finding any excuse to touch him, dropping a hand to his wrist under the ruse of getting his attention, leaning closer when the bar was loud to speak against his ear. His tactics were shamelessly obvious, but Alek was like a book Ian couldn’t stop reading. There was something magnetic and dangerous about him. Ian nursed a single beer until it was lukewarm and still felt drunk, his words flowing freely, as if Alek wasn’t just a book, but a drug.
