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ADAM
We’re sprawled on the bed an hour later, curled beneath a fleece blanket like two stowaways hiding from the world. When my phone rings in the kitchen, I ignore the clanging interruption and keep myself pressed into Nick’s warmth. His head is tucked against my shoulder and I can feel the vein in his neck pulsing with a strong, steady tempo. After a horn squeals on the street below, he clears his throat and slowly shifts onto one elbow.
“I like this.” It’s a whispered confession. “It feels…right.”
I slide my hand up the middle of his back and brush the hair from his eyes. They glimmer with an easy, relaxed contentment that makes him look even more striking.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he says.
“That sounds odd coming out of your mouth.” I smile. “I mean, guys your age don’t usually say things like that.”
He smirks. “I learned it from my grandmother. She used to say it all the time. I went to her house after school until I was old enough to be on my own. She was always baking or sewing, so I’d do my homework at the kitchen table. But I found it really hard to concentrate, so I usually just listened to her stories and asked a million questions.”
“It sounds like you got along with her nicely.”
He snickers cheerfully. “She was a wackadoodle, but we all loved her. That was way before the show about hoarders, but she would’ve fit right in. My grandmother never threw anything away.”
I give him a look. “Did you inherit the hoarding gene?”
“Possibly.” He purses his lips. “But it’s mainly with things like running shoes, tubes of acrylic paint and brushes from Winsor & Newton.”
“Well, that makes sense.” I pull him down against my shoulder again. “You’re an artist. And I can’t imagine anything more important to you.”
He laughs. “I can think of at least two or three others, but I can’t paint without supplies.”
“What are the other things?” I ask. “What do you really like?”
He sighs. “Oh, I bet you can guess.”
“Quinoa and tofu?”
“Fuck, no!” He reaches down and jostles my cock. “This would be one.” Then he lifts the hand and rests the tip of a finger against my lips. “And your mouth.”
I turn toward him and kiss his forehead. “That’s sweet.”
He murmurs, burrowing deeper against me. “You’re sweet. I’m glad that we got another chance to connect. After I messed up everything last week, I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
“You didn’t mess up anything. It was a simple misunderstanding.”
“I don’t know about that,” he replies with a sigh. “I’m not the best at communicating sometimes. And I jump to conclusions way too fast, usually without asking a few basic questions.”
“I think that makes you human.”
He snorts. “And most humans are flawed as fuck.”
“I’m not going to argue about that,” I tell him. “We all have something.”
His hand slides down my stomach. “Yep.” His fingers encircle my cock. “You have this.”
I give him a wink. “I do have that. And you’re welcome to have it too, handsome. As much as you can handle and as often as you can take it.”
He blushes, turning the rest of his face the same crimson shade as the scrapes from the night before.
“What now?” he asks.
I pull him closer. Then I kiss the top of his head and run my hand down his back to the gentle swell of his sculpted ass.
“How about a shower?” I say. “And then lunch followed by a walk through Central Park?”
Nick sighs contentedly. “That sounds more perfect than anything.”
I can’t help but flash a smile. “There’s at least one other thing that might be even better,” I say. “But we can do that again later when we get back here.”
He frowns. “I’m sorry, but I have to work tonight for Dede.”
I reach over, slide one finger under his chin and gently lift it until our eyes meet.
“You know what?” I ask.
Nick shakes his head.
“I’m a very patient man,” I tell him. “I can wait until you finish work.”
“Or maybe you should order a pizza,” he says with a naughty grin. “I’ve always wondered if the cliché would be as hot in real life as it looks in the videos.”
I laugh. “I bet it is,” I say, “but we’ll have fun finding out one way or the other.”