mouth. The kiss was tender and soft, and Rafael wrapped those strong arms around James’s shoulders and embraced, clung for dear life, and James relaxed against him, even if it meant sliding out.
He rolled to the side a little and propped one arm up over his head, and Rafael turned to him, searching his face with those luminous, liquid black eyes.
“You do everything you needed?” he asked, and James laughed a little and shook his head.
“Oh, God, Rafael. I want to give you so much more.”
Rafael raised his hand to James’s face, stroking his clean-shaven jaw and keeping those serious eyes locked with James’s.
“You don’t know what you’ve given me already, do you?”
James smiled again and leaned into that touch, closing his eyes against that seriousness. He felt so good. Happy. Beautiful. Young.
“Not half of what you’ve given me,” he murmured. “Trust me, Rafael. I could make love to you for years and years, and I’d still be in your debt.”
“Pretty words,” Rafael murmured, and James opened his eyes again.
“Pretty man,” he said softly.
“You fuck a pretty man,” Rafael answered. “You just made love to me.”
James grunted. God, he was quick. Too much, too far, too fast, too late to put on the brakes.
“You make love to a beautiful man, with a beautiful soul,” James told him, figuring maybe Rafael might be the one man in the world who wouldn’t quail from a little bit of romance with his sex.
Rafael closed those all-seeing eyes, and that lean finger—smelling a little bit like motor oil, James noted, smiling inwardly—rubbed at his lips.
“Then I got some more making love to do,” he said.
James’s smile grew, and he kissed Rafael’s finger with all the gentleness he had. “Yeah. Yeah. Both of us. We’ve both got some to do. Right?”
“Right.”
James pushed himself up on his elbow then and remembered the part of the evening that he’d forgotten.
“But first dessert, okay?”
Rafael started to laugh, his knees drawn up over his belly, his head thrown back, pure joy rolling through the room. “I thought that was dessert, Jimmy! What, you meant something with sugar and sweets and everything?”
James grinned. “Yeah. Stay right there. It’s strawberries and chocolate and whipped cream. We can eat them in bed!”
Rafael sobered and stopped him with a hand on his arm as he went to slide out of bed.
“Okay. But not right now. Right now, stay here some more and say pretty things to me, Jimmy. I’ll say them back. I think maybe we both really need to hear.”
A sudden, terrible feeling of vulnerability assailed James, and he almost hurt Rafael’s feelings forever by running away and grabbing dessert. But he remembered Rafael, spread out for him, vulnerable, willing, and he couldn’t do that. God, who knew that pride could be tied up in strawberries, chocolate, and cream?
He relaxed his body back into the bed and rested his head on his arm.
“Just so you know,” he said quietly, meaning it, “I could say pretty things to you all night.”
Rafael’s smile brightened the twilight that was starting to pervade the room as the sun set. “Me too. That’s okay. You just told me we can break for dessert.”
Chapter 5
Brown and White
H E SPENT Easter Sunday with Rafael’s family.
The two weeks before that, they were inseparable, and he worried a little. It wasn’t always easy, being together. There were moments when that place where two people meet seemed over their heads and far away.
He tried not to cringe every time Rafael left the Charger in front of his house. He couldn’t explain it—it was nothing he’d ever thought of before—but suddenly having that bright electric-blue paean to muscle cars seemed damned ostentatious for his bland little suburb of college-educated adults. Even the families had placid minivans or SUVs. The thing was loud, too, but every time he thought to say something, he could actually hear the uptight prig in
He rolled to the side a little and propped one arm up over his head, and Rafael turned to him, searching his face with those luminous, liquid black eyes.
“You do everything you needed?” he asked, and James laughed a little and shook his head.
“Oh, God, Rafael. I want to give you so much more.”
Rafael raised his hand to James’s face, stroking his clean-shaven jaw and keeping those serious eyes locked with James’s.
“You don’t know what you’ve given me already, do you?”
James smiled again and leaned into that touch, closing his eyes against that seriousness. He felt so good. Happy. Beautiful. Young.
“Not half of what you’ve given me,” he murmured. “Trust me, Rafael. I could make love to you for years and years, and I’d still be in your debt.”
“Pretty words,” Rafael murmured, and James opened his eyes again.
“Pretty man,” he said softly.
“You fuck a pretty man,” Rafael answered. “You just made love to me.”
James grunted. God, he was quick. Too much, too far, too fast, too late to put on the brakes.
“You make love to a beautiful man, with a beautiful soul,” James told him, figuring maybe Rafael might be the one man in the world who wouldn’t quail from a little bit of romance with his sex.
Rafael closed those all-seeing eyes, and that lean finger—smelling a little bit like motor oil, James noted, smiling inwardly—rubbed at his lips.
“Then I got some more making love to do,” he said.
James’s smile grew, and he kissed Rafael’s finger with all the gentleness he had. “Yeah. Yeah. Both of us. We’ve both got some to do. Right?”
“Right.”
James pushed himself up on his elbow then and remembered the part of the evening that he’d forgotten.
“But first dessert, okay?”
Rafael started to laugh, his knees drawn up over his belly, his head thrown back, pure joy rolling through the room. “I thought that was dessert, Jimmy! What, you meant something with sugar and sweets and everything?”
James grinned. “Yeah. Stay right there. It’s strawberries and chocolate and whipped cream. We can eat them in bed!”
Rafael sobered and stopped him with a hand on his arm as he went to slide out of bed.
“Okay. But not right now. Right now, stay here some more and say pretty things to me, Jimmy. I’ll say them back. I think maybe we both really need to hear.”
A sudden, terrible feeling of vulnerability assailed James, and he almost hurt Rafael’s feelings forever by running away and grabbing dessert. But he remembered Rafael, spread out for him, vulnerable, willing, and he couldn’t do that. God, who knew that pride could be tied up in strawberries, chocolate, and cream?
He relaxed his body back into the bed and rested his head on his arm.
“Just so you know,” he said quietly, meaning it, “I could say pretty things to you all night.”
Rafael’s smile brightened the twilight that was starting to pervade the room as the sun set. “Me too. That’s okay. You just told me we can break for dessert.”
Chapter 5
Brown and White
H E SPENT Easter Sunday with Rafael’s family.
The two weeks before that, they were inseparable, and he worried a little. It wasn’t always easy, being together. There were moments when that place where two people meet seemed over their heads and far away.
He tried not to cringe every time Rafael left the Charger in front of his house. He couldn’t explain it—it was nothing he’d ever thought of before—but suddenly having that bright electric-blue paean to muscle cars seemed damned ostentatious for his bland little suburb of college-educated adults. Even the families had placid minivans or SUVs. The thing was loud, too, but every time he thought to say something, he could actually hear the uptight prig in
Similar Books
