“Well, the real estate market here isn’t exactly booming, so you might be able to find something pretty cheap, depending on your price range,” Mark stated, moving his hand to the tumbler instead of the beer bottle he’d almost completely drained
Francis hummed. Then he kept his tone casual and asked, “Are you sure you want to drink that? You can still drive, right?” and just like that, Mark trembled, and goosebumps ran from his feet, up to his legs, and higher and higher, until his scalp tingled.
Why? How? It wasn’t as if Francis had propositioned to blow him right then and there. His tone hadn’t been suggestive, either. How the fuck did he have such hold over Mark?
“Uh,” Mark grunted. He cleared his throat. “I’ve had just the beer.” He then let go of the glass of whiskey and pulled both of his hands to his lap.
“Good,” Francis said but this time in that lower register of his that made Mark’s insides do flips.
“You have your car at the front?”