Love Him Free (On the Market #1) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,56
times and Rocco still hadn’t come. Simon’s unease crept in just under the bliss and euphoria, and it must have shown in his eyes when he pulled back.
‘What’s wrong?’ Rocco signed.
Simon bit his lip. ‘Can we talk about,’ he waved his hand between him and Rocco. ‘After we eat?’
Rocco looked hesitant. ‘Are you unhappy?’
‘Confused,’ Simon spelled, not remembering the sign for it. Rocco showed him, and he repeated it. ‘Not bad, just need to talk.’
Rocco’s entire body relaxed just a fraction, and when he leaned in again, Simon didn’t reject the kiss. It was sweeter this time. It was full of an emotion Simon was too afraid to name. It was over too fast, but Simon’s crotch was sticky and uncomfortably wet, so he was grateful for the reprieve.
He didn’t let himself think too much as he changed, didn’t sink into the anxiety of what-ifs, but it was a near thing. Instead, he focused on what was to come. Dinner with his lover, and a little more tenderness.
And then…
And then, he would get ready to bare all.
Simon had to wonder if it was some sort of gift that all Italian men had—like a genetic ability to cook, though he knew that was ridiculous. But one of his first friends in college had been a whiz with a hot plate and dry noodles and cans of cheap tomato sauce. He could whip up a bolognaise good enough to make Simon want to cry with a half bottle of two-dollar wine and a jar of dried oregano added in.
Rocco’s was better than that. It was dry pasta, but it tasted fresh. The sauce had a richness he couldn’t describe with words, but he was happy to eat until he almost felt sick. It was an over-indulgence, but Rocco’s pleased grin as he watched Simon attack his plate was worth it.
When they were finished, Rocco took him by the hand, a loose grip of clasped fingers, and they made their way out back. There was an echo of the sunset’s glow just above the peak of the mountains, but not enough to give any real light. The yard was lit up by a handful of solars, but it felt soothing in a way to be surrounded by darkness.
Rocco led him to a two-person swing, the cushions heavy and thick, and he tucked himself between Rocco’s spread legs, the pair of them stretched along the length of it as best as two fully grown men could. Simon laid with his back to Rocco’s chest and let Rocco’s large hands curve over his.
“Happy?” Rocco asked aloud.
Simon nodded his fist against Rocco’s palm.
“Me too.” Lips pressed against his hair, nose digging into his curls. He felt more than heard Rocco take a deep breath in. “Can we talk out here?”
Simon took his hands away, then twisted around. ‘Too dark?’
Rocco pulled a face, but he knew Simon was right. Neither of them seemed to want to give up this little bit of sanctuary away from both the chaos of life and what they planned to do next in the bedroom, but Simon knew he couldn’t put it off for much longer.
He leaned in and stole a kiss before heaving himself up, and he heard Rocco’s heavy footsteps follow him in. They’d only taken a minute out there in the dark, but Simon’s eyes struggled to adjust. They watered a little as he took the corner seat on the sofa, and he turned as Rocco joined him.
‘If you changed your mind,’ Rocco started, but Simon shook his head.
‘It isn’t that. I,’ he hovered with his finger touching his chest, then stopped and dropped his hands for a second. ‘I don’t know what this is between us,’ he went on. ‘You like me.’
‘Yes,’ Rocco said, his fist perfunctory and sharp. He leaned in, but not close enough to touch. ‘Yes,’ he signed again.
‘What happens when all of this is over?’ Simon asked.
Rocco’s brow furrowed. ‘What?’
‘Your agent,’ Simon asked, his shaking fingers fumbling over the spelling of words he didn’t have the signs for. ‘Your job. You can’t live in Cherry Creek.’
Rocco’s brow furrowed. ‘Why not?’
Simon couldn’t help his laugh. ‘It’s small. There’s nothing here.’
Rocco’s face was challenging now, eyes not letting him go. ‘You’re here. Your family is here.’
‘Your family is not,’ Simon reminded him.
Rocco scoffed. ‘I don’t see them that often. We’re not as close as we were before I started working in film. I don’t let them choose for me what makes me happy.’