Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
I bring my hand to his face, caressing his cheek. His lips are so plump and perfect, I can feel mine screaming to reunite with his. “You haven’t ruined anything.”
“I haven’t?”
“No.” I drag my thumb over the side of his lips, feeling how soft they are. “You just made me wait a little longer for you to come around. That’s all.”
“A little longer …”
“And now that you’ve come around …” I lean in. “I’m not gonna let you go again.”
Quin joins my hand with his own, both of us holding his cheek. He leans forward and brings his lips to mine.
I close my eyes, falling into the soft, gentle embrace of our lips. Then the kiss becomes more desperate. And even more. Suddenly, we’re making up for all the time we lost these past few days, hungry for each other in ways neither of us can hope to describe with any amount of words.
Abruptly we stop, then stare into each other’s eyes, out of breath.
“Boyfriends,” he says.
I smile. “Boyfriends,” I agree.
Should we go for another kiss? Or would that lead to trouble? Are we already at the point in our relationship to consider having sex on the front steps of an exhibit hall?
“I kinda want to just … leave this thing and spend the rest of my night with you.”
“Like hell you will,” I protest at once. He makes a face at me. “You gotta reap the benefits of your work! You have fans, admirers, and connections to make, Mr. Artist!”
He pouts. “But I just want to get out of these clothes, cuddle up with you on your couch, kiss you all night, and then … and then make love.”
It’s honestly so fucking adorable, how he whimpered that last part.
I get close to his face. “You and I will have all the time in the world after your big night to do whatever the hell we want to do. We could survey the stars. We could lay out on the beach. We could get ten flavors of ice cream. I don’t care. I’m all yours.”
His eyes light up like a New Years’ sparkler.
I put another quick kiss on his lips. “But first, you’ve got a room of admirers to return to.”
“I hate when you’re sensible,” he says, sweetly gazing into my eyes.
I shrug. “It’s a secret ‘himbo’ magic power.” I take hold of his hand, help him up, then take his bouquet of flowers. “I’ll hang on to these so you aren’t burdened with them when you greet your fans.” Then I give his cute ass a smack. “I like your butt in these pants, by the way.”
“I’ll remember that and wear them whenever you make me mad,” says Quin teasingly. I growl at him and chase him the rest of the way up the stairs back into the exhibit hall as he laughs, taunting me.
Inside, I take a back seat as Quintin shines in front of his peers. While we were occupied, a lot more people have gotten around the room, and it isn’t long before everyone has taken notice of his work. I stand back like the proud boyfriend I am, grinning ear to ear, as Quin is approached by countless art students and visitors of the gallery, all of them wanting to give him their praise.
Now and then, he’ll look up and search for my eyes through the crowd. Once he finds them, he gives me a smile, happy to see me, then resumes his chatter.
At one point in the evening, I spot my mom. She has found my dad. The two of them are talking calmly as they stand next to a wall of colorful mousetraps arranged in a strange design—some social justice statement the artist is making, I guess. But the art doesn’t matter; it’s my parents that have my full attention, talking calmly, easily, nicely.
Maybe it’s my frame of mind right now, but I’m struck by how sweet they seem together. Is it just a strange kind of magic in the air? Or have my parents been destined to reconnect tonight?
I guess my brothers and I have to embrace that our parents’ romantic journey may not be over just yet.
Hours later, Quin and I leave the venue together, hand-in-hand. His eyes are alight with inspiration and promise. I feel like I’m floating as we walk down the street together, my man at my side, and our future together looking and feeling limitless. We decided we’re not quite ready to head to my apartment yet, so we’re strolling along the streets under the moon and the stars, enjoying however much of this crazy, magical night we have left.
“It feels a little unreal,” admits Quin as we stroll lazily down the narrow Artist Row, passing all of the eccentric, colorful houses along the way.
“Tonight in general? Or—?”