Corinne was in high school. She was off on a school trip, and the firm had just won this important case. We got a massive commendation for it. It was six years of work—late nights and missing family dinners, and it didn’t feel worth it, but Jacqueline was thrilled.”
“She’s…” Ilan started, but Fredric squeezed his hand, and Ilan went quiet.
“We had too much wine with dinner, and there was something in her voice that reminded me of the woman she had been. I couldn’t help myself, and when she touched me, I let her. When she kissed me, I took her to bed. She was gone by morning, and I think that was the moment I knew I never wanted to touch her again. I spent every night for the next month praying she wasn’t going to get pregnant.”
“Did she?” Ilan asked.
Fredric felt his stomach twist, because he would have loved that child, but he would have resented eighteen more years of feeling trapped. “If she did, she didn’t say, and obviously nothing came of it.”
Fredric felt Ilan’s large thumb trace over his knuckles, then he squeezed. “Is she why you’re not dating women?”
His brows dipped. “What do you mean?”
“All of your dates so far—all of your emails—they’re all from men.”
Fredric bit his lower lip and felt foolish and naïve, but he also trusted Ilan with these tender parts of himself. “That’s not why. I…I want to feel something I never thought I could. There was a part of me that thought I’d be trapped in my marriage forever. Even if these dates never work out, I want to go past an awkward dinner. I just,” he let out a long sigh, “want to know what it’s like to kiss a man.”
“Well,” Ilan said, then drew his hand back, “if that’s all you need, we can resolve that easily.”
Fredric blinked rapidly. “What do you mean?”
There was a heavy pause, then a tense laugh. “Never mind. God, I don’t know why I…”
Fredric reached for him again, his fingers curling over Ilan’s. “What do you mean?” he repeated.
The skin under his hand got warm—then hot—and Ilan cleared his throat. “I mean that I know what I’m doing. I might not have kissed a lot of men, but I’ve kissed more than a few. Your first kiss should be with someone you trust, and I would never hurt you. I would…” He stopped on a harsh laugh. “But I also get why that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever…”
Fredric felt the moment stretch out in front of them, like a thin rope ready to snap. And when it did, things would change. Whichever choice he made, whichever answer he gave, nothing would be the same again.
With his swallow lodged in his throat, Fredric turned slightly in his chair and reached out his other hand. It landed on Ilan’s forearm, and he turned him so they were face to face. The man beneath his touch was so still, Fredric could only feel the faint rise and fall of his breath, and his fingers inched slowly upward. Ilan’s skin beneath his hands wasn’t unfamiliar, but it was the first time he’d ever touched him like this.
It was the first time he’d ever touched anyone like this. With a gentle intimacy that said nothing and everything all in a single, simple gesture.
He trembled, but he didn’t pull away. His palms brushed over the short sleeves of a t-shirt. It felt soft and expensive as he kept going. The curve of the shirt’s collar was next, and above that, the slope of his neck. Fredric’s thumb grazed his Adam’s apple, then touched the soft space just beneath his chin. Ilan’s face was rough with a few days of not shaving, and it felt like a tactile map leading him to something he could never come back from.
He wanted to speak—he wanted to ask if this was okay. He wanted to confess every single sin. He wanted to ask if his feelings for Ilan were going to ruin everything, but he wasn’t brave enough because he knew the answer. It might not be yes, but the unknowing was a risk he wasn’t sure he was willing to take.
But if he didn’t face all of that, if he just closed his eyes instead and leapt…
He moved his hands to either side of Ilan’s face and cradled it. His thumbs brushed the corners of his mouth, finding it wide, lips full and generous. He had never really wondered what Ilan looked