Love In Slow Motion (Love Beyond Measure #2) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,88

not saying after we hang up you shouldn’t touch yourself, though.”

Ilan grunted a little. “Watch it, old man. You have no idea how close I am.”

Fredric laughed, the sound giving away just how damn close he was to the edge. “Oh. I think I do.”

Chapter 20

The relief was almost visceral when Ilan stepped into Fredric’s touch. It was familiar and strange all at the same time—a shift between them changing not who they were, not even the love between them, but the shape of it. But though the ground beneath his feet felt uneven, he still breathed out a sigh and leaned in to the hard, warm body in front of him. His hand grazed over a shirt—silky and expensive, small buttons done up, leaving only a patch of skin exposed at Ilan’s throat.

He trailed fingers down his arms, feeling the sleeves rolled up at the elbows, then moved them back up toward his face. The arm of Ilan’s glasses went askew, but he just laughed and ran his fingers over Fredric’s bottom lip before he leaned in and spoke so close, Fredric could feel the rush of his breath.

“Can I kiss you hello? Are we at that phase of the relationship?”

Fredric laughed and instead of answering, closed the distance between them. He wasn’t sure how so few kisses could feel like they’d been doing it for a lifetime, but the press of their lips felt like home. It felt right, like the world had been shaken and was finally settling back into its proper shape. He let the moment between them linger, not going deeper, but the passion was there. It was a low simmer in the pit of his stomach, a promise for more—if he felt like he could take that step and not ruin everything before it even got started.

Let out a small sigh when Ilan brushed fingers through the back of his hair, holding him in place for a second before finally breaking away and stepping back. “You look good.” His voice was rough, the honesty in it almost like it was unpracticed.

Fredric ran his fingers over his carefully combed hair, then down the front of his shirt. He’d taken his time to get ready, changing outfits three times before settling on something casual and—what Agatha insisted—was hip without being too young. “I had help.”

“You’ve never needed it before,” Ilan said, and Fredric could hear the frown in his tone, and it made him laugh.

“Yes, well,” he said and dragged a touch down Ilan’s arm until their hands linked, “I’ve also never wanted to impress someone as badly as I do tonight.”

Ilan stepped in close, and then warm lips brushed against his temple, and he spoke right there against Fredric’s skin. “Ridiculous.”

Fredric’s eyes squeezed shut, and he simply let himself feel this—this joy, wonder, disbelief that even a second of this was allowed to be his. He suddenly understood the meaning of starving, because he was now feasting on something he’d been deprived of for longer than he cared to think about.

“Where’s Bas?” Ilan asked when the moment settled.

“Oh.” Fredric stepped away and grabbed his cane off the coatrack. “He’s taking the night off. I didn’t want to have to stress about him getting in the way. The woman I spoke to on the phone said he was welcome, but that the place is small, and it can get messy.”

Ilan offered his arm, and Fredric curled his fingers around his bicep. “We’d make it work, you know. I love having him.”

Fredric felt the warmth of that statement—so simple, so thoughtfully casual. “I know, but it’s not just that. He’s getting old and late nights like this are hard on him. Besides, he’s enjoying being spoiled by Agatha and Teddy.”

Ilan didn’t argue further, just led the way to his car, and Fredric settled in the comfortable seat. There was soft music on when the engine started, and Fredric grinned when he realized it was Billie Holiday. “Good choice.”

Ilan laughed softly as he turned onto the main road. “I always think about you when I play her. This was one of the songs you used when you were trying to teach Julian how to dance before prom.”

Fredric sucked in a breath. That memory was old, faded, just a blip in the sea of millions he held close to his chest. But it rose to the surface, gasping for air as he remembered. They’d been in the parlor, Corinne at the writing desk cackling, Ilan standing somewhere off to