Tip swallowed, wondering if it was a good thing or bad that the bagginess of the clothes he was currently swamped in would completely hide the effect the contact was having on him. He leaned toward Steve, and those warm, soft fingers continued to caress his skin, the aroma of cheap hotel soap and expensive aftershave teasing Tip’s nose and bringing the promise of earthier scents to come.
Just as he was wondering if Steve was going to kiss him, there was a frantic knocking on the door. Tip jumped, then remembered he was (a) human and (b) decent, and relaxed. He cursed under his breath at the interruption.
“Come in,” Steve called.
The door burst open in a bustle of floral prints and sensible shoes. “Oh, Stephen! There you are! Something dreadful’s happened!”
Tip blinked.
It was Mrs. Bloody Helpful.
“Calm down, Aunty May,” Steve said in soothing tones. “I’ll make you a cup of tea.”