nice picture.”
“Do you want me to tell you about it?”
“Um . . .”
“Or we can just look at it and feel.”
Logan twisted abruptly toward Alexander. “Okay. So.” He sucked in a breath. “How much of a deal breaker would it be? Say you were getting serious about a guy, but then you found out he’s not cultured like you are. That even when he tries to learn it doesn’t always stick. I mean, is that the kind of guy that’s fun for fucking but could never be long-term material? Because I can tell the difference between these styles but I’m not sure I’ll remember the names and I’m really not sure I’ll remember the artists.” Logan pointed to the painting before them. “I’d say something like, oh look, that’s from that boxy artist who did a lot of fruit and hills.”
“Cézanne.”
“Boxy artist.”
Alexander laughed.
Logan sighed, a deep resigned sound. “Do I sound panicked?”
“Yes, you do.” Alexander still held his hand, but Logan didn’t squeeze back. “Are you okay?”
Logan nodded, but his Adam’s apple jutted.
“Logan . . .”
Logan looked at him. “Maybe Mom was right. I do need to go back to college, I just . . .”
Alexander winced. “I didn’t bring you here to make you feel . . .”
“I know,” Logan said. “Bringing me here was really fucking romantic. I’m so touched I can barely string a sentence together, and Alexander, there are a bunch of sentences I need to string together. With you. Tonight.”
Alexander smiled nervously.
Just one last night.
“I d-don’t think you need to go back to college,” Alexander blurted.
“You don’t?” Logan rocked back on his heels, surprised. “Really? Were you not paying attention the last twenty minutes?”
“Classrooms aren’t the only way to become good at something.”
“What do you mean?” Logan sounded relieved.
“From everything I’ve seen, you seem to be an active learner. You learn by doing things and making them fun.”
“By clowning around.”
“As I said. Making things fun.”
They moved into the second hall, where Alexander studied Logan more than the surrounding art.
“Okay,” Logan said. “This one’s my favorite.”
“The Play-doh sculpture?”
“Yep. It looks so outta place. Like a child left it here. Which, though I know you’re burning to tell me otherwise, I’m still gonna believe when we leave.”
Alexander bit back on the theory behind the installation and nodded. “What’s your favorite?” Logan asked. “In this room.”
Alexander made a slow turn. “That one.”
“Really?” Logan sounded doubtful.
“Yes.”
“That can’t be your fave.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s my fave. And I don’t believe of all the talent-filled paintings in here, you’d choose this.”
Alexander shrugged. “I still choose the Play-doh piece.”
“Why?”
“Because it brought back your smile.” A loaded beat passed. “Now,” Alexander said gruffly, gesturing Logan into the third and final room. “There’s more in here.”
They walked through the rest of the exhibit, Alexander enjoying the rush of playing teacher as he answered the questions that continued on the car ride home, and into their house.
Logan halted suddenly in the middle of the spacious living area, and Alexander threw him a querying look.
“There is a Manet, isn’t there?”
Alexander pressed his forehead against Logan’s neck.
Logan looped his arms around Alexander’s waist, holding him snug against that broad body. “I guess all that’s left now is to talk.”
Alexander froze, heart thumping.
He looked up at Logan, voice husky. “That’s not all that’s left.”
“Alexander—”
Alexander cut him off with a kiss.
He closed his eyes, moving his lips against Logan’s warm, slightly lemony ones. Logan’s resistance melted and he deepened the kiss, as if possessed by the same need for just a little longer.
Alexander pushed Logan into his dark bedroom, stumbling awkwardly as he tried not to break their groping, kneading, tongue-locking connection.
Logan hit the base of his bed with a smack of his heels, and Alexander laughed out an apology, not stopping to strip Logan of his shirt, shorts, socks . . .
The bedsheets were tangled, as if Logan had left them as evidence of Alexander’s disappearance.
Logan pulled away and followed Alexander’s gaze.
This was not the time to talk. Alexander turned Logan’s chin back so he faced him.
“Undress me, Logan.”
Logan’s erection twitched against Alexander’s stomach. Deft hands hastily freed Alexander of clothing and cool skin pressed against his, thigh to thigh, cocks bumping, chests shuddering with trembling breaths.
Softness edged the darker desire in Logan’s eyes, and Alexander felt it swelling his cock and tugging at his chest.
Logan slid a hand over Alexander’s jaw, through his hair, to the back of his head. His thumb tapped at Alexander’s temple. “About last night . . .” Logan murmured.
Panic lodged in his throat