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“I think I like the sound of infinity more,” I whispered back.
“Where do you see yourself in this lifetime, and every lifetime after, Leelee Bear?”
I swooped in impossibly close, holding his face and his gaze the way he held mine, and I gave him the same answer I’d given him all those years ago. I gave him the truth.
“Somewhere still wanting you, Franky.”
Chapter 37
Franklin
In the time it had taken me to grab my phone from upstairs, and our beer refills from the fridge, Leland had ambled from the patio armchairs we’d been enjoying our nightly conversation from, to the easel he’d set up over on his favorite side of the backyard. It was the area least protected by tree foliage, so it received the best sunlight during the day. It was also the section of yard space I’d chosen for the garden, for that same reason.
I rested our Stellas on the short table in front of our chairs before coming up behind him to drop a kiss along the column of his neck. “You’re cold,” I said, running my hands up and down the gooseflesh along his arms. As if to punctuate the sudden dip in temperature, a faint breeze snuffed out the flames of several of the lanterns surrounding us.
“Which means you’re not,” he said, craning his head toward me.
“I admit this weather agrees with me, but we can take your easel and our drinks inside.”
He turned back to his current project. “I get more done out here.”
It’d been a couple weeks since he picked up a paintbrush, and my walls would be eternally grateful for the work he’d blessed them with in that time. He’d had a few false starts, and more than a few confidence-shaking moments, but Leland had always been a natural, painting was in his blood, and it came back to him relatively easily. Now he couldn’t stop. I couldn’t even get him down to The Daisy, when before I’d had to get creative with my distractions to keep him from attempting to work shifts at the flourishing bar.
“Will you at least allow me to keep you warm?” I asked, already heading for the fold-up chair I kept perched against the fence for those spur-of-the-moment requests that I sit so he could paint me.
“No way,” he said as I opened it behind him, preparing to sit and wrap him up in my arms. “I get nothing done when you touch me.”
“A jacket, then?” I’d been overly needy and protective of him since the art studio reveal. I took offense whenever the night air ruffled his hair, or when the afternoon sun threatened to burn him alive.
He didn’t seem to mind. It went unsaid that we were making up for lost time. Things were still tenuous between us, which played a part in how I’d been behaving. The past hadn’t miraculously disappeared as if it never existed. There were still occasions when he stared at me like he was unsure or like he was certain but scared.
Cole and Jasper learning the truth continued to sit wedged between us too, but Leland wanted me, and he could admit to it now, admit that he wanted to try. It was more than enough. More than I deserved.
Cole and Jasper had been by for dinner last night, and pretending there was nothing but friendship going on between us, when there was plenty more going on, had been easier than when we’d had to pretend to be one step above strangers.
“No need,” Leland said, interrupting my musings. “I’m done for the night.”
“And what’s this?” I asked, lowering into my chair anyway and resting my chin on his shoulder. Leland didn’t do abstract much, but he was equally as good at it.
“I don’t know yet,” he said, angling his head at the canvas. “I let my hand lead instead of my head. I’ll come up with a name for it eventually.”
I ran my nose up and down the crease behind his ear, breathing him in. “Have I been touching you too much?” I whispered in a love-induced haze, getting high off the scent of him.
“Too much?” He chuckled, the sound reverberating along his skin. “Franky, all I dream about is getting this boot off my leg so I can fuck the shit out of your cock. No, it’s never too much.” He’d gotten the cast removed earlier that day. The boot was a hindrance, but he’d gained his independence back. I wouldn’t touch him inthatway, though, until he was fully healed.
“Always so tasteful,” I quipped, brushing my lips against his cool skin.
“Hey, decorum has always been your department, and it’s such a fucking turn-on when you lose all traces of it.” He tilted his head to give me better access. “Fuck, Franky. Look at what you’re doing to me,” he breathed. My eyes moved to his lap where his cock had tented the soft fabric of his sweats, and where a pin-sized wet spot had graduated to the size of a dime right before my eyes. “Always making me wet, Franky.”
I backed off, and he whimpered. “There are a few ways I can take care of that for you, but you can’t tempt me into hurting you. I won’t fuck you until you can take it.”
He twisted around. “The doctor said the boot can be removed in a week,” he said.
“He said one to two weeks, Leland.”
“Can we fucking think positively?” he asked, pent-up lust agitating him.
“One week. But then you’ve got to rehab the leg. You haven’t used it in a while.”
