Love In Slow Motion (Love Beyond Measure #2) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,89

her left offering terrible pointers, and Julian’s hand sweating in his, heated with his blush because he was embarrassed.

“People don’t dance like this anymore, Dad,” he’d complained, but Fredric still made him go through the steps.

“You’ll do this someday, and the person you end up loving will be impressed. And then you’ll thank me.”

“Right,” Julian said with all the scoff and distaste he could pull off at seventeen. “That’ll be the day.”

Swallowing thickly, he turned his head toward Ilan. “Did he dance that night?”

There was a long, pointed silence. “No. But he didn’t ask anyone, either. They had prom at that one resort that burned down a couple years later—I don’t remember the name of it. The theme was something like fairies or woods. They had all these twinkle lights up and everything was really dark brown. It was supposed to be romantic, but everyone kept booing when they put on slow songs, so the whole night it was teen pop and boy bands.”

A laugh bubbled out of Fredric’s chest, and he covered his mouth. “Did you dance?” he asked after he got a hold of himself.

“Yeah, but just once and only to make Julian laugh,” he answered. “He didn’t want to go, but there was a girl I liked. I could tell the whole thing made him feel like shit, though, so I ignored her, and she never talked to me again.”

“I’m sorry,” Fredric said quietly, then he startled when Ilan’s fingers curled around his wrist and brought his hand up for a slow, lingering kiss to his knuckles.

“You were good to him. You were so fucking good to him, and I had no right to be angry for as long as I was.”

Fredric pulled his hand away, but only to drag the tips of his fingers along the side of Ilan’s neck. “Don’t.”

Ilan huffed, and Fredric felt him shrug. “You’re right. This isn’t the time to…”

“I mean don’t ever,” Fredric corrected. He felt the car slow, and he knew they were probably at the parking lot, but he wasn’t ready to stop just yet. “I’m not going to accept an apology from you about that because you weren’t wrong. I know,” he said when he heard Ilan suck in a breath to argue with him, “that I was just as much of a victim as Julian was—but I was also his father, and I have to live with all the ways I let him down. And I have to live with the weight of his forgiveness, because that is the heaviest burden I bear.”

Ilan said nothing as the car rolled to a stop. The engine stilled, and the music was replaced with silence, and neither of them moved. Then, after a beat as slow as honey, Ilan’s hand came up and directed Fredric’s face slightly to the left. He leaned in—Fredric could feel the heat, could smell the soft woodsy scent of his cologne.

“Consider it dropped. For good.”

He hadn’t been expecting that, but he had been expecting the kiss that he turned his face up for. Ilan was a little more rough this time, a little more demanding. He urged Fredric’s mouth open with a thumb against his chin, then pushed his tongue inside and tasted all of him.

When he pulled away, Fredric’s face was burning, and he was hard. “I can’t go in there like this,” he complained, and Ilan laughed.

“You’ll be fine. Just give it a moment.”

Which of course was easier said than done considering being close to Ilan left him half-hard all the time. But eventually, he could move without embarrassing himself, and he grabbed his cane, meeting Ilan at the curb.

Inside the shop, there was no echo. The place felt stuffy and claustrophobic, and he was overwhelmed with the sharp scent of acrylics and cleaning solution. For a moment, he almost had to walk out, but he also didn’t want to give up that easily. They checked in at the desk, Ilan taking both their smocks, and they were given a canvas in the back.

Fredric ran his hands over the shape of the shirt, then found the arm holes and tied it in the back. He dragged a hand down his front when he was done and grinned over at Ilan. “Well?”

“Hot,” Ilan said, and Fredric heard the smirk in his tone. “You pull off eccentric painter very well.”

Fredric felt another spark of want, and he was glad the smock was thick and went all the way down to his knees. He turned away