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I can’t share Tristan—not his exquisite body or his altruistic heart. “I’m not planning on seeing anyone other than you.”
Tristan nods a few times, as he puts it together. Doesn’t seeing one man exclusively, maintaining daily contact, and admiring him thoroughly add up to the definition of being his boyfriend?
“Do you want to date other men?” Maybe I hold my breath as I wait for him to answer.
“I have no interest in dating anyone but you. But I’ve gotta ask—why the sudden change in the direction of our relationship?”
“It’s not so much a change in direction… as an acceptance of it.” It is that simple.
“Okay, then.” When he smiles, it feels like I hit the casino jackpot.
“Can I take you to dinner?” I ask.
“Tara made meatballs.”
“Tempting as that sounds, I want to be alone with you tonight.” I want to celebrate the step forward we’ve taken by candlelight.
“You told me on the phone that you have paperwork Tara needs to sign,” he reminds me.
“That was my weak excuse to see you.”
He smiles sweetly. “Then I’m all yours tonight.”
I sincerely hope he’s all mine for more than just tonight.
* * *
Tristan
Remi takesme to a fancy Indian restaurant in the city. The food is rich and spicy and totally amazing, but our conversation is stilted, limited to my upcoming jobs and his classes. Neither of us is certain how we fit into this vaguely defined relationship.
As we leave the restaurant, I agree to go back to Remi’s loft to spend the night with him. Undeniably a new step for us. I’ve slept over before but as a matter of convenience. Tonight is a conscious decision to be together.
As we sip white wine on the couch, I notice Remi hasn’t done any more work on the portrait of me that rests on the easel. “No progress on the painting?” I ask.
“Well, if I remember correctly, someone promised to model for me. For three hours, I believe… in a certain Halloween costume exchange.”
“And you’ve been waiting patiently for this model to fulfill his obligation?”
“I assure you, he is well worth the wait.”
My cheeks warm. “I can assure you that the model is at your beck and call.”
Remi slips the wine glass from my hand and places it on the coffee table along with his own. “Is he at my beck and call for more than modeling?”
I place my hands lightly on his bristled cheeks and stare into his eyes. “He is.”
He leans forward and kisses me. It’s a mild, tentative kiss. “Are we on the same page here, Tristan?”
My best guess is that he’s referring to intimacy. “It’s been a while for me.”
“A while?” Remi’s forehead wrinkles. “How long?”
“Years… since before Wendy was born.”
“You truly are a dedicated uncle.”
“There’s been no time for me to spend on what I want. All of my attention has been focused on them.”
“Until now.”
I nod. “Until tonight.”
Once again, Remi’s lips find mine, but this time with purpose, though he doesn’t part my lips with his tongue. “I want you, Tristan,” he whispers against my mouth.
I don’t know what to say.My life isn’t simple. It hasn’t been for years—maybe it never will be. But I’m a man with needs, and I need Remi, in more ways than one. “Maybe we should go to your bedroom.”
After standing, he helps me to my feet. “We’ll only do what you’re ready for.”
I’m not merely a tool to satisfy his lust. “Okay.” I follow him to his room.
“I’ve always had protected intercourse in the past,” he tells me as we pass through his bedroom door. “And I’m regularly tested, though it’s been a month or so.”
“I’ve only had one partner,” I confess. “I’ve been tested too.”
He freezes. “One partner?”
“Uh-huh.” One clumsy partner, one awkward time. Then life got in the way.
“You sure you want to do this?” he asks.
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
“Then I guess you should make yourself comfortable,” he says, gesturing to the bed.
“I’d be more comfortable without my shirt,” I tease. Once I pull off my T-shirt, Remi seems drawn to me as if I’m a magnet, and he’s steel.
“You have the most exquisite body.” His large palms curve around my shoulders and squeeze. “I remember when you lowered your robe on the first day of life drawing class. I had to bite my lip—I wanted so badly to see more.”
“I remember the way you looked at me that day—like I was something tasty to eat.”
“I’m not usually so hungry for classroom models.”
“There’s just something about Tristan…” I quip.
