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“Are you trying to argue me out of being in love with you?” Eric’s voice carried a hint of hurt, and no, that hadn’t been Adrian’s intention. Never. “Because babe, that’s not how it works.”
Babe.
Adrian wasn’t sure if it was the first time Eric called him that. Maybe not. But it packed a real punch now, slid right into the gaps between Adrian’s ribs and settled in for the long haul.
“That’s not…” God, he hated feeling this vulnerable. But what was the point of holding back? “You might change your mind. Like, in three months, you may decide that this place is too remote after all. And that would…” He swallowed and cleared his throat. “It would hurt. Really hurt a lot.”
“Adrian.” It came out soft, almost reverent. “I won’t change my mind.”
“How do youknow?”
“Because”—Eric made a sweeping gesture to encompass the room and what lay beyond—“it’s only been a couple of months, but this feels like home. More than my London flat ever did.”
God, Eric fit. He’d stepped right into a void Adrian hadn’t realised existed, and if he left…‘This feels like home.’
Adrian must have taken too long to reply because Eric straightened his spine, shoulders rolling back. His voice dipped down. “Do you not want me to be in love with you?”
Fuck.
“I do.” Adrian sucked in a sharp breath. “Ido.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Eric sounded a little lost, like he honestly didn’t get it, and… And, well. Bloody Martin and his bloody accurate questions.‘Is there a chance you just aren’t sure whether a guy will hang around long-term?’
Adrian glanced away, at the swell of ink taking over the sky. “I won’t always be young and hot, you know?”
Something about his tone must have resonated with Eric because he slid off the piano stool and crossed the room. A moment later, he straddled Adrian’s lap, solid and warm, arms draping around Adrian’s shoulders. “I won’t be, either.”
Adrian raised his head to meet Eric’s eyes. Dizzyingly bright spots danced behind his lids when he blinked. “But you’ll still be… You’ll still be allthis. Like, smart and so fucking talented, and writing songs that people love. Meanwhile, I’ve got a crumbling hotel to my name.”
“Okay, first off?” Eric’s arms tightened. “I love this hotel, almost as much as I love you. And we’re not going to let it crumble.”
We.
Before Adrian had a chance to react, Eric continued. “And secondly, I didn’t fall for you because you’re hot. Max is hot too—never did a thing for me. You’re…” Proximity blurred Eric’s lashes to smudged shadows. “You work so bloody hard, Adrian. And you’re funny and sweet and smart. You help me get out of my head when I need it, and you push me a little but not too much.”
God. Eric was—he just wasn’tfair. How had Adrian ever been meant to resist him?
“Well, I kind of love you. So.” Adrian hadn’t planned to say it quite like that. It felt like it should have been a much bigger declaration, violins and kissing in the rain and all those movie clichés. Instead, it was the bright space in his chest, it was him and Eric alone in this room while darkness fell with the inevitability of a winter night in the mountains.
And then Eric’s smile—brilliant, blinding, glitter in Adrian’s veins. “Whatever happened to ‘anytime one of us wants out, done, no questions asked’?”
Adrian brought his arms up around Eric’s shoulders and smiled back. “Eliminated on grounds of it being a stupid idea to begin with.”
Eric’s head dipped, voice tinged with humour, his lips brushing the corner of Adrian’s. “And you just decided that without consulting me?”
“Well, I do make the rules around here.”
“Do you, now?” Eric murmured. “So what’s the new rule, sir?”
Adrian ran one hand along Eric’s spine and down the back of his jeans, finding warm, bare skin. “For one, this is a clothing-strictly-optional space. Also, I get a daily line always.”
Eric shifted, thighs caging Adrian in on the sofa. “On that note, I kind of wrote a song about you. It’s probably half-finished, but … yeah.”
Liquid gold pooled in Adrian’s stomach. “You did?”
“Gave it to Max.”
Holy fuck.
