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Bishop’s eyes widened and his hands tightened on his jaw. “I… Because I really dig your voice. It relaxes me. And if reading is what you’d usually be doing… then let’s do that.”
Edison’s smile quickly spread across his face. Read together. It was a dream come true. “Seriously?”
Bishop nodded, keeping their bodies close, his grip almost painful.
Edison squeezed Bishop’s arms when he saw how serious he was. “All right. Come on, let me show you something.” Edison ran his hand down Bishop’s forearms until he reached his hand. He linked their fingers together and led him towards his workout room.
Bishop’s mouth dropped when he opened the door and flicked on the light. He stepped aside and let Bishop enter before him. “Holy shit.”
“Some people prefer walls of mirrors in their exercise area, but I prefer bookshelves. It’s less reality in your face, ya know.”
Bishop walked along the rows of black shelves, dragging his finger across the spines of several John Grisham novels. Edison had almost every book of his. He realized how obsessive this all looked, especially in the digital age. Veteran readers had turned their paperbacks into firewood and made e-readers their new obsession. While Edison had broken down and got a Kindle for convenience, he still liked to go to the bookstore and find a good hardback, so he could get lost in the feel and scent of the pages.
“Have you read all of these?”
Edison shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, trying to see the room from Bishop’s point of view. “Yeah, I have. After I read it, I add it to the shelf. Some people collect troll dolls… I collect my favorite novels. And I have quite a bit of audio, too. If you ever want to borrow some.”
“I think this is sexy as hell,” Bishop said. He gave Edison a seductive look and nodded for him to come closer. “Pick one. Whichever one you were going to read tonight.”
Edison went to the half-full shelf and grabbed the Kingsley McDennis hardback still inside the Barnes & Noble shopping bag. “Kingsley is one of my favorite mystery writers. He’s one of the best at making the action kind of leap off the page.” Edison’s voice had gotten higher with his excitement.
Edison took Bishop’s other hand and led them back to his living room. He left the main lights off and turned on the small lamp on one of his end tables. Bishop had already settled into a comfortable position on the sectional. With his back against the L-shape of the chaise, he opened his arms in invitation for Edison to join him. He was surprised how easily he fit against Bishop. Edison thought he was a big guy but Bishop’s brawn, and the way he could effortlessly heft his body made him feel small and weightless.
“There,” Bishop murmured against the side of Edison’s head, adjusting him until Edison was nestled deep under his arm. “That’s perfect.”
Edison shivered and tugged the quilt Aunt Carlotta had made for him for his eighteenth birthday off the back of the couch and draped it over his legs in an effort to hide his erection that seemed constant when Bishop was around. “I’m not too heavy leaning on you?” Edison asked quietly.
“No, baby,” was all Bishop said.
Edison opened the hard cover—they were so quiet he could hear the spine crackling as he spread it wider. He flipped past the first few pages of contents, copyrights, and dedications until he saw chapter one. Edison could feel Bishop’s heart pounding, matching his own erratic heartbeat. He wasn’t nervous, reading was something he could show off with. He was just anxious not to run off another man because of his boring lifestyle. However, he wasn’t getting that vibe from Bishop, and Edison vibrated with excitement.
He read ahead the first few sentences, then started at the beginning. He kept his tone low and smooth, hoping Bishop liked it. After a couple of pages Edison found his rhythm and began to get immersed in the narration. He was quite comfortable with reading aloud and did it often when he was alone. In school, his pop had made him read his homework, the newspaper, a magazine or whatever to him while he’d cleaned up at closing time. That’d been his study period.
By the time he reached chapter three, Bishop’s forearm was cradling his head, putting him in a good position to run his fingertips through his hair. It was so hypnotic that Edison found himself leaning into the touch. His voice got huskier as he went on and Bishop appeared to like it.
They’d just laughed at a funny line and were settling back down when Bishop checked his watch.
“It’s getting late.”
Damn, he loved the sound of Bishop’s voice in the late evening. It was just ten-thirty but he supposed Bishop was right. He did have to get up a lot earlier than he did. And eleven was about the time his book began to make him doze.
