God, he was so fucking hard and horny.
Holden had unlocked a visceral kind of want that Bryce had no interest in turning off. Maybe if he had a week, he could get some of it out of his system, but as he pushed a second fingerinto himself, cum sticking and smearing around his knuckles, he knew that was a lie. He would never get enough of Holden, but more than that, he didn’t want to.
CHAPTER 15
Holden
The days dragged on,a series of one tattoo after another and another, all of it blurring into nights wrapped up in Bryce’s long and trembling limbs. Holden and Bryce had fallen into a bit of a routine, but nothing that would arouse suspicion with Merrick, who still had no idea about the two of them. He certainly knew Bryce was seeing somebody. Holden had listened to Merrick whine about it at least once a day for the past two weeks, but he couldn’t figure out who. It was a small relief for Holden to find out they’d been doing a good job at keeping their relationship under wraps.
And it was a relationship, after all. They were boyfriends.
Secret boyfriends.
Holden carried another secret, though. That he’d fallen in love with Bryce Shannon whether he’d meant to or not. Bryce promised he was just as all-in as Holden was, but Holden knew things were sometimes said in the heat of the moment. He wanted to trust it, because he did trust Bryce, but it was hard. Hannah told him more than once he was being ridiculous, that he would turn into a self-fulfilling prophecy if he didn’t tell Bryce the truth, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The momentsthey shared were as close to perfect as Holden had ever imagined possible, and he wasn’t ready to lose that yet.
“But what if it gets better?” Hannah had asked him last time they spoke.
He waved her off and said he had to get off the phone. She rolled her eyes at him but let the lie slide. It didn’t matter; her question had been bouncing around in his head for days, and that was how he found himself at work early one Wednesday, bent over his sketchbook, tracing out a galaxy of constellations, Bryce’s knuckle tattoos in the forefront of his mind.
Just before eleven, the upstairs door opened and the landing creaked. Holden set down his pencil and cracked his back, calling up to Riggs, “I’m in early.”
The last thing he wanted was to catch his boss and his boss’s boyfriend naked or in the middle of a sex thing, which was a real risk considering Riggs lived in the apartment over the shop. Smith had his own place in Hollywood, but he stayed over a lot. The two men were sickeningly in love, but Holden found it hopeful and inspiring.
Most of the time.
“I’m decent,” Riggs announced, voice still thick with sleep. The stairs groaned as Riggs descended, and he blinked like an owl once he reached the bright lights of the shop. “Did you have an early appointment?”
“Just going stir crazy at home and wanted a change of scenery.”
Riggs chuckled and tied his long hair up into a messy bun. “Most people would go to the beach or a coffee shop in that case, not work.”
He gestured to Holden’s empty chair. “Can I sit?”
“Your shop.”
Holden rolled his stool back to make room for Riggs, who settled into the chair like a man who’d spent hours doing it. Hehad, in fact. Riggs was almost entirely covered in ink from his throat down to his ankles. Holden wasn’t much further behind him as far as coverage went, but for some reason—maybe the hair and the constant five-o-clock shadow—Riggs looked a lot tougher than Holden ever would.
“What are you drawing? Do you mind sharing?”
Holden handed over his sketchbook. “Just stars.”
Riggs smiled and tapped his finger against the corner of the page. “Can I flip?”
“There’s no nudes in there, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Riggs crossed his legs at the ankle and skimmed through Holden’s sketchbook. It wasn’t the first time. Holden had brought it with him for his interview, but Riggs had paid more attention to his finished portfolio than his in-process sketches. It made sense because the end product was what they were selling. Of course, it mattered how he got there, but that was the least of it.
“You are really good,” Riggs finally said, handing the book back.
“You sound surprised.”
“I wouldn’t have hired you if you weren’t,” he said. “Just nice to be reminded, I think.”
“Yeah, well. Thanks.”
Riggs nodded and yawned, stretching his arms over his head. His shirt lifted, revealing a stripe of equally tattooed skin.
“How have you settled in here?” Riggs asked him. “You like it okay?”
