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“Damn it,” I bit out, feeling my temper rise. Why now? Why him? Whyme?
You know why, Franklin.
I slammed the door on that voice while also slamming the pillow back onto the bed. Two sheets of pastel paper floated onto the floor. It was the type of paper Leland sketched on in between painting the mural. I thought back on what he’d said to me when I first discovered his hidden talent.
“I’m not all that good at sketching, but it relaxes me when I get too in my head about how crappy a painting is turning out. Sketching reminds me that there’s something I’m better at, so then I go back to my painting with renewed confidence. It’s a trick of the brain, really,”he’d said.
At the end of every night, I’d find sheets of charcoal drawings scattered throughout the house. They were amazing, like everything else he’d done, and I secretly kept a few of them.
I picked up the sheet closest to me, turning it over and leaning closer to the bedside table to get a better look under the lamp light. The rough sketch depicted a man from behind. Anudeman from behind.
He stood on a balcony, palms pressing into its railing, his head lowered, the ocean—expanding in the dark distance—spot lit by the moon.
I pursued the muscular planes of his back with a trembling finger, chasing the hard line of his spine down to the beauty mark atop his right butt cheek.
The second rendering was more explicit. Two men in bed, their faces hidden, leaving me to identify them using other means. The one from the first sketch hovered between the other one’s spread thighs. I knew it was the same man because of the matching beauty mark. And I knew the man below him was Leland because of the scar marring the leg he had wrapped around…mylower back.
Storming from Leland’s bedroom, I charged into mine, throwing my balcony doors wide and stepping into the warm rain. I held up the first drawing, now bunched in my fist, staring between it and what I could see spread out in front of me.
The same ocean. The same moon.
I turned my back on the view, rain water sluicing down my body as my gaze landed on my open bedroom door.He’d been watching me.
Balling up the wet paper, I pressed into the railing, adopting the same pose in the sketch. Leland wasn’t fevered and delirious when he drew this, not like he had been when we kissed tonight. And suddenly the mishap on the patio when we’d gotten aroused as he straddled me could no longer be ignored or summed up to our adrenaline pumping and my need for sex. This thing bubbling inside me wasn’t one-sided.
I struggled to pinpoint the moment it had started for me. Had I known that I wanted him the instant he’d stepped on to that roof, refreshingly oblivious to who I was? Or had it begun when I took his hand before marching onto the Ferris wheel with him? Or perhaps when I watched him get off in his shower?
And when had it started for him? As his gaze stalked me all night at the office party? Had it begun with the very first flirtatious comment he’d directed at me?
Some missing part of me slid into place, making me whole while also tearing down the world around me.
A rash sort of recklessness came over me, and I warred with wanting to barge downstairs and take what I wanted—now that I knew Leland wanted me back—and packing up his things and returning him safely to his apartment before the sun rose to shine its light on my indiscretions.
He didn’t deserve me making a mess of his life, which was precisely what would happen if I laid another hand on him.
I sank to my haunches, still holding on to the balcony railing for support as the rain picked up in force, attempting to pound some sense into me. I thought of my wife.
“Use this time to figure out what you want, Franklin, because we can’t live like this anymore.”
An insidious voice crooned romantically in my ear, whispering that Selene’s words had granted me permission to cross every vile line I had in mind.
Bile cruised up my esophagus as I made a tough decision. I had to get as far away from Leland as possible before I gave in and pursued the thing that had haunted me ever sincethen. Ever since Theo. That voice had given me a terrible excuse to do it now, and I wasn’t above using it.
Chapter 10
Leland
For once, the morning sun was the last thing I wanted to see after waking up on the sofa with a stiff neck. My mouth was dry, and the rest of my body felt clammy, but all that was forgotten by the sight of Franky dressed and sitting at the kitchen island. Not sitting, more likewaiting.
“How are you feeling?” he asked with zero emotion.
“Better, I think. Hard to tell when every part of me needs a shower and sustenance.” I stretched, getting to my feet.
“I’d like to make sure you’re okay. My physician was able to fit you in this morning. After that, I think it’s best if you went back to your place. Now that the mural is complete.”
I’d been about to tell him I didn’t need to see a doctor, that I was fine, that I could stay, even though he was being weird. I’d already accepted that “weird” came with the territory when being Franky’s friend. I’d rather deal with his mercurial moods than not deal with him at all.
I couldn’t tell him that, though. Not when my packed duffle bag sat at the bottom of the stairs, sending a new round of sickness through me.What the fuck?
