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Edison was placing another pitcher of his amazing sweet tea on the table when he turned the corner. Bishop surveyed the delicious spread that Edison had prepared in just a couple of hours. There was a leafy green salad loaded with fresh vegetables, a basket of perfectly toasted garlic bread, and a wide dish of pasta, topped with gooey cheese and bright bubbling red sauce. It was overwhelming and so greatly appreciated.
“Hey,” Edison said when Bishop continued towards the table, his gaze bouncing from Edison then back to the dinner that’d been set before him as if he was a king.
“This is really great, Eddie. Thank you,” Bishop croaked. One of the hardest challenges for him while doing time had been consuming the food. For years he’d longed for a meal like the one Edison had spread before him. One that was made with care and came from a special place. He sat next to Edison this time, close enough that their knees bumped, liking the surprised but intriguing smile Edison gave him.
Chapter Thirty
Edison
Dinner was delicious if he did say so himself. And Bishop’s compliments had been plentiful, and the sounds he’d made as he’d sucked tomato sauce off his fingertips had bordered on the obscene. More than once, Edison had to squeeze his thighs together to apply some pressure to his balls. He’d struggled all through eating to keep his eyes off Bishop’s chest which was outlined wonderfully in the thin T-shirt he’d changed into.
Bishop rubbed his flat stomach as he finished his third glass of iced tea while Edison piled the dinner dishes in the sink. It was almost nine o’clock, later than he was used to finishing dinner, but he was beyond glad for the company.
“So, what would you be doing, Eddie, if I wasn’t here right now?” Bishop asked matter-of-factly.
Edison shook his head. He didn’t want to tell the truth because it sounded pitiful, but he wasn’t going to lie to Bishop. Edison laughed lightly, “Honestly, reading. I’d be in the living room entranced in this new book I got yesterday. I’d probably have finished dinner an hour or so ago, alone. I would’ve eaten right there where I was sitting, like I do every night except I usually have my laptop out, surfing the net or—”
“On Facebook, or the Gram,” Bishop finished.
“No.” Edison shook his head, looking at Bishop as if he was insane. “The twenty-five or thirty friends I did have on Facebook, I’d never even met before, and the few friend requests I sent out went unanswered, so…” Edison shrugged as if it was no big deal. “I’m not a fan of social media.”
“Me either.” Bishop sat taller, appearing pleased with Edison’s answer. “All people wanna do now is type out long texts on their phones and chat on a computer instead of actually having a conversation. It’s frustrating.”
“I’m starting to get that about you. And I like it. At first, I thought you were a man of very few words, but I was surprised to see you don’t like texting, chatting, or any of the conventional ways our generation chooses to communicate now. You’d rather speak to me, as if you like hearing my voice.”
“‘As if’,” Bishop repeated. He stood and came around the table, meeting Edison on his way out of the kitchen. He’d turned off the bright overheads, leaving only the warm glow from the stove light and the dining room. Bishop didn’t stop until he was close, and Edison flushed when Bishop cupped both his cheeks in his large hands. “I do like your voice.”
Edison tried to duck his head, but Bishop held him firmly. “Thank you,” he whispered, meeting those expressive eyes. When Edison really looked at Bishop, he could see the sincerity.
As if he couldn’t help himself, Bishop slowly leaned in and pressed his lips against his, holding there for a couple of seconds before he slanted his head. Bishop’s mouth was like the best dish he’d ever tasted. He could get full from it so he was glad that Bishop was being so generous.
He groaned when Bishop delved deeper, or maybe they’d both made that sound, he didn’t know for sure, all he knew was he wanted more. Bishop’s mouth was just wide and demanding enough to make him feel taken.
“So you’d be reading right now, huh?” Bishop’s whisper sounded like an idling diesel engine.
Edison blinked and licked his tingling lips. He laughed lightly. “Um, yeah.”
Bishop never changed positions as he stroked Edison’s cheeks with his rough thumbs while he rested their foreheads together. His mouth moved as if he was trying to say something but couldn’t find the words. Edison ran his hands up and down Bishop’s strong back in support. Whatever it was he needed to say would be—
“Read to me,” Bishop croaked.
Edison glanced up in surprise. Did he hear right? “What?”
