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“Words I always want to hear from a naked man after sex,” Kieran said.
“You think that’s funny?”
Kieran laughed and nodded. Finley dove in with curled fingers, searching for ticklish spots, but Kieran was stronger and faster. He pinned Finley to the bed and proved he had an outstanding memory too, homing in on each of the spots he’d uncovered before sex. Finley would’ve expressed outrage that he had enough brain cells left after their shared orgasm, but he was breathless from laughing so hard.
Finley banged his fist against the mattress and shouted, “Uncle!” Kieran collapsed beside him on the bed, and they lay there, grinning at each other for a long time. Finley reached over and brushed the backs of his knuckles over Kieran’s cheek. “I mentioned taking things slow because you’ve been through a lot, and I’m sure I don’t even know the half of it. My track record with men is horrid, and I carry baggage of my own. We could have something amazing, beautiful, and rare, but I worry about codependency issues. I fear I might want too much too fast, and—”
Kieran quieted him with a kiss. “I’ll tell you if I feel overwhelmed and need some solitude, and you can tell me when you need me to open up more. I trust you like I’ve never trusted anyone else, and it has nothing to do with codependency. It feels like I put out a call to the universe, and you answered.”
“Pack,” Finley whispered. Kieran cocked his head to the side in confusion. “You reminded me of a lone coyote when we met. Something about you spoke to me, and I could hear your howl echoing in my soul.”
Kieran tightened his hold around Finley. “And you answered.”
“And I always will.” No matter what their future held, Finley would always answer Kieran’s call. He pressed a kiss to one perfect pec, then pushed up into a sitting position. “Can I ask for that favor now?”
Kieran smiled, cupped the back of his neck, and pulled him back down for a kiss. “I’m lying here in a boneless heap, covered in my spunk because you rocked my world. You can have anything.”
“I’m curious about your sketchbook,” Finley said. “You had it with you in the laundry room, and I’ve wondered about the kinds of things you draw.”
Kieran inhaled long and slow as he considered, and Finley knew it was a big request. He exhaled just as slowly before saying, “Nothing until the past few weeks. Some of the sketches are pretty rough.”
“I don’t want to critique your work. I just want you to share it with me when you’re ready.”
“Go ahead,” Kieran said, nodding toward the nightstand.
Finley retrieved the sketchbook from the drawer and sat up. “Are you sure?”
Kieran rolled onto his side, bent his arm, and rested his head on his palm. “I am. I think you’re going to get an idea of where my head has been since the moment I arrived on the ranch.”
The first few sketches were landscapes and animals. Finley could tell Kieran’s first strokes weren’t quite confident, but the technique sharpened with each turned page. The subject changed from trees, mountains, dogs, and horses to Finley. Images of him performing various tasks filled the page. Finley’s favorite was a sketch Kieran had made of him hugging Tiny Dancer. He’d drawn it so beautifully that it looked like a black-and-white photo. The tears shimmering in his eyes in the sketch were so lifelike. And because life imitated art, Finley’s eyes filled again.
“You’re killing me,” Kieran said. “You’ve been staring at that drawing for several minutes.”
Finley jerked his head up. “Have I?”
Kieran bit his bottom lip and nodded. “Do you like it?”
Swallowing hard, Finley said, “I love it. You’re so talented.”
Kieran snagged Finley’s hand and brought it to his lips. “The subject obviously moves me.”
Finley struggled to tear his gaze away from the sketch. He’d never looked better than through Kieran’s eyes. “Have you ever wanted to pursue a career in art?”
“It’s always seemed like a pipe dream,” Kieran replied. “I’d hoped to take some courses to hone my skills, but I’ve never been able to pull it off.”
“Until now. You’re surrounded by people who want to see your dreams become a reality.”
Kieran captured his mouth with a long, lazy kiss that left him reeling. “I want to see your art too.”
Finley snorted. “Even my stick figures are unrecognizable.”
“Nice try,” Kieran replied. “I want to see the photos that made Harry gasp.”
Finley released a long exhale and set the sketchbook down. If Kieran could put himself out there, then he could too. He leaned over the edge of the bed and retrieved his phone from his pocket. “I used Harry’s laptop to save them to my digital storage.” He tapped on the app and accessed the folder before handing over the device.
Kieran lay beside him and held the phone where they could both see it. He said nothing as he scrolled through the photos twice. He set the device on the bed and rolled onto his side. Finley turned his head and bravely met his gaze. “I’ve never liked pictures of myself. They were a visual reminder of how I never fit in.” He set his hand on Finley’s racing heart. “I always looked so out of place…until now.”
“Youdobelong. Pack.”
