Chapter 2 #2
“And then—” Iven mimed an explosion with his hands, “the snowman’s head popped right off.
” He was mid-tale about one of his disastrous experiences during previous ice-carving competitions, hands expanding and fluttering like they were the ones telling the story.
I couldn’t help but think the way the firelight caught on his fingers was devastatingly lovely.
I nodded, hoping to encourage him to keep talking—and he did.
“Janis was so angry,” Iven chuckled, like causing his ex’s ire was delightful. “Oh man.” And then, without a transition whatsoever, “We ready for the check?”
I nodded again.
Iven waved a hand to catch the waiter’s attention, a sunny grin on his lips.
His smile was as angular as the rest of him, pointed edges, raw glint.
His mustache only seemed to highlight the shape of it.
Like a gilded frame on a portrait. His glasses helped too, softening the wicked light in his eyes.
Iven possessed a magnetism that I couldn’t help but be drawn to. As wild as the animals I often saw traipsing through my yard, their footprints left behind in the snow. Simply watching him exist felt liberating in a way I didn’t understand.
This was different from how I’d felt about the men I’d dated in the past. Maybe because we weren’t dating, I had to remind myself again. That line felt blurry, and that was never a good thing. I needed to get control of myself.
I put a hand up when he moved to procure his wallet.
It was a nice leather piece that I could appreciate better than most, as a lot of my income came from crafting goods with attention to detail.
Iven lowered it back into his pocket, blue eyes watching me with a look I couldn’t interpret without feeling like I was taking liberties where I shouldn’t.
I handed the waiter the exact amount of cash needed and left a sizable tip on the table.
If the way Iven’s eyes lingered on the money was any indication, he found my generosity pleasing.
Outside, the cool air bit at our noses as we exited the establishment.
“It’s too bad they don’t make cordless portable space heaters,” Iven said, rubbing his hands together before reaching into his pocket for gloves.
Without thinking, I stalled the movement, my hands finding his.
I pulled them up to my mouth, watching his face for signs of discomfort as I gently puffed warm breath upon them.
Iven’s gaze widened. His eyes somehow looked even more blue at night, cast in the shadow of moonlight, the glint of the stars flickering on his glasses as he watched me.
When his hands were sufficiently warm, I let him have them back. They shook a little as he shoved them into his gloves—and for a single, terrifying moment, I worried I’d crossed a line.
If I was being honest…I’d crossed a lot of lines tonight.
Truthfully, I hadn’t planned on taking him out. I’d thought a simple dinner at my home would suffice. But then he’d said he thought I was attractive—and he’d mentioned going out enough times it made me realize some part of him, however small, probably wanted that.
And I’d conceded.
I’d always concede to him.
That had been obvious from day one.
“I’d tell you that you have very warm breath, but that sounds like an insult,” Iven informed me. “Or like I’m attempting to drop hints about halitosis.” He blinked, horrified. “Which I’m not. Obviously. You have nice breath. Good hygiene. I noticed immediately.”
Rambling again, worried he’d crossed a line, even though I was the one who had done that. I arched a brow. Iven laughed. “You smell like tea,” he said immediately in explanation. “And cinnamon. And pine.”
His tongue flickered out to wet his lips. They were chapped from the chill. It did surprise me a little that he’d noticed my smell of all things—and in such detail. He had the nose of a bloodhound apparently. I supposed that made sense. He was good at hunting, too.
He’d certainly hunted me down, after all.
My hand settled on his lower back, steering him toward the parking lot where my pickup truck sat waiting. The whole walk, Iven continued to fret. Maybe he recognized all the compliments he’d been giving me and saw them as threats.
Maybe he wasn’t ready to acknowledge the heat that simmered between us.
Maybe he never would be.
Maybe there was no heat at all.
Wishful thinking.
That’s all this was. Even if the lotion he’d given me as a gift earlier, his excited comments about my looks, and the headiness in his gaze were all things that made it very difficult to rationalize his actions.
I’d never been so painfully enamored with another person before. Especially not a straight man. That wasn’t a mistake I’d made since I was in my teens…hell, three decades ago.
“Straight men can think other men smell good,” I finally said when we’d arrived and I’d pulled the passenger door open. It was a reference to what he’d said earlier that day on the phone about me being ripe. A joke. At least—it was supposed to be a joke.
I’d never been good at those.
As evidenced by Iven’s lack of laughter.
In fact, he froze, all the long lines of him rigid as his blue eyes met mine and his lips pressed into a flat line.
A beat passed. A car crunched through the snow to our left, lights bleeding across the parking lot as it pulled out and headed down the street.
We were in the middle of town, where everyone could see.
Tall, narrow gray houses constructed from stone loomed around us, craggy giants.
No doubt, in at least a few of those lit-up windows, we were being watched.
Our town was too small to avoid gossip.
Too small to avoid rumors and speculation.
I’d never cared what anyone thought of me before, until now. All the people who had known my mother before she passed were long gone. Lost to the passing of time. Relocated to bigger spaces with less brutal winters, or to the graveyard at the back of town to rest.
And yet…I found myself caring now.
I found myself stepping back a little, cheeks warm.
All it would take was one look for anyone to know how smitten I was. How pathetically entranced. Entranced enough that I’d agreed to Iven’s sneaky little plot even though it was entirely out of character for me. Even though the sculpture contest was my favorite part of the year.
I’d never hear the end of it.
Maddox Fuller, the madly-in-love fool.
Only…the way Iven was looking at me didn’t make me feel foolish.
Far from it. His hands twitched at his sides, long fingers dancing.
I missed watching them bare. He wore gloves when he sculpted, too—and while still lovely, there was nothing quite like looking at his knobby knuckles and the ink smudges on his skin.
“Maddox?” Iven’s voice was hushed, softer than the snow that lined the banks. His feet crunched a little as he shifted from side to side. His mustache twitched as his lips continued to tremble.
I waited, sure this was one of those times he’d fill in the silence for me. He didn’t. Which meant I was forced to speak. “Yes?”
Iven sucked in a breath, like hearing my voice again was affecting him in ways he couldn’t comprehend. “I know this is a long shot…” he began, slower than before. “And that I told you rather pointedly that I was heterosexual.”
My heart began to pound.
Now it was my turn to panic.
I could hardly breathe as Iven’s lips curled upward. He pushed the nose piece on his glasses up so he could see me better, tipping his face back to meet my gaze. He really was lovely, painted in moonlight. His sweater was a dark charcoal gray today. Dark enough it made his eyes almost glow.
“I think maybe…as odd as it sounds…I might have been wrong about that.” Skin hot, hands clammy, I struggled to make sense of his words. Surely, he couldn’t be implying what I thought he was.
“Clarify.” My voice was rough.
Like being asked to speak was a relief, Iven relaxed. “I just mean…ah…How to say this without sounding crass?” He twitched a little, more snow crunching underfoot. His mustache twitched. “After the last time we met, I may have…taken some…time…to…myself. Privately. In bed.”
Some time to his—oh god.
It was easy enough to read between the lines.
To picture Iven spread eagle, his long body folded in a way that left him open and ready.
His hand between his legs, those long fingers skimming up and down his cock.
Or—no. Faster. Manic. Like the way he spoke.
Jerking up and down, up and down, his balls drawing up tight.
I blinked, dazed. “And?” I cleared my throat, suddenly even more eager to hear what he had to say next.
“And…” Iven’s voice dropped low, husky. “It was enlightening.”
Oh fuck.
Suddenly weak-kneed, I had to fight the urge to lean against the truck to catch my balance. I didn’t want to cage him in. Didn’t want to interrupt him.
It figured that he’d been chatty all night, and this was the only time his words had come slow and unhurried.
“How so?” I croaked, my own tongue flicking out to wet my lips. My cock was half hard. There was no denying that. The anticipation was killing me, as was the way Iven’s pupils were slowly but surely swallowing the blue in his eyes entirely.
“I’ve been alive a long time,” Iven continued.
“Forty-six years.” He was my junior by three years.
I logged that away for later, quickly distracted by his next words.
“I thought I knew one thing about myself.” Iven took a moment to gather his thoughts.
“But after spending time with you, I’ve come to the conclusion that my sexuality is a lot more fluid than I’d realized. ”
Lightheaded.
I was officially lightheaded.
“Suffice to say,” Iven continued. “I was wondering…if perhaps you might allow me to kiss you?” Starlight flickered on his glasses, framing his lovely eyes. I couldn’t look away, even if I’d wanted to. I was mesmerized.
I didn’t want to be a straight man’s experiment.
But…I didn’t think that was what this was. Iven looked sincere. He looked…worried. He looked eager. It was that last thing that made up my mind for me. I’d give him anything when he looked at me like that.
“If you decide that you don’t like it, that’s fine,” I managed, voice rough. “I won’t be offended.” My drive to please came rushing to the surface. This itch beneath my skin that said I could be exactly what he needed, if he let me.
“I know,” Iven said with a confidence I wasn’t sure he should possess. “You’re very gentle,” he added, as if that explained where said confidence came from. “I doubt you’d hold it against me.”
My throat clicked when I swallowed, overcome with emotion. How could we have only known each other a few short weeks and yet he seemed to understand me so well?
“Okay,” Iven said after a moment of waiting. “So, now what? Do I kiss you? Do you kiss me? I’m not entirely sure what the protocol is—”
I kissed him. His lips felt as chilly and chapped as they looked. And god, I’d never tasted anything better. His mustache tickled my skin as I cupped the back of his head, sinking my fingers into his thick chestnut locks and pulling him closer.
He was a little stiff at first. Maybe nerves. Maybe the cold. This was new, after all. But quickly enough, Iven melted beneath my fingers like he was a sculpture himself, molding beneath my touch. He groaned, pressing back with eagerness, his teeth finding my lip and giving it a sharp nip.
I nipped back, harder even, and Iven’s breath started to come quicker.
It was electric.
This delicate, greedy thing. Iven’s hands wound into my beard and hair, mirroring me as the kiss grew more biting. I didn’t introduce my tongue. I didn’t want to overwhelm him too—oh.
And there was his tongue, wiggling its way right into my mouth.
Well, that answered that.
Growling, I sucked around it, my free hand pushing him back, back till his shoulder blades pressed into the side of the truck and I had leverage to devour him.
Iven liked having his tongue in my mouth, wet and soft and coaxing, but he liked when I chased him even more.
He emitted this almost inhuman little warble as I licked past his teeth and stroked up and down along his tongue.
I could feel the evidence of his arousal against me, the hard line of his cock attempting to find my own as he wiggled, going so far as to even hook his leg around the back of one of mine to try and line our cocks up.
I didn’t let him.
We were in public.
Grabbing his face to hold him still—and his hip, for good measure—I continued to take him apart, lick by lick, kiss by kiss.
When we separated, several long, delightful minutes later, Iven was shaking. There was a noticeable tent in his trousers, and his lean chest was heaving. His eyes, normally so bright, were dark. His mouth was puffy and red, moonlight glinting across the spit that slicked his lips.
His tongue flickered out, chasing our mingling flavor before he finally spoke again.
“Well, that was a successful experiment,” he said, voice nothing but gravel.
I nodded, nostrils flaring. Iven’s eyes dragged over my mouth, my chest, down my belly, and to where my cock mirrored his. “Ripe,” he said, one single word that startled a bark of laughter right out of me.
He looked like he’d won an award, his eyebrows shooting up, sharp smile dancing. “So you can laugh,” he teased. “I was beginning to wond—eehr, oh Jesus.” I grabbed him by the hips and hefted him into the passenger seat to cut off his teasing. “You are strong.”
Pleased, I shut his door with a thump and headed around the car to the driver’s side. My mouth tingled. My cock ached. I ignored both things as I climbed into the vehicle and buckled up.
“For a recluse, you’re a pretty good kisser,” Iven informed me, his fingers up and gently skimming over his lower lip like he was memorizing the way they felt.
I arched a brow at him, and he laughed.
“Okay, okay. You’re right,” he agreed. “Not a recluse.” He was shivering. I turned the heater on full blast. I held a hand out for him when it seemed he wasn’t taking advantage. Confused, Iven gave me both his hands, and I gently moved them directly in front of the vents.
My heart was still pounding as I drove him home, somewhat in shock after the turn the night had taken. Like a good, obedient boy, Iven held his hands in front of the heater the entire drive.
“Thanks for dinner,” he said when we arrived outside his shop. The lights were off, and it looked peaceful. I grunted. “And for…” Iven’s eyes wandered down to my mouth, “dessert.”
I snorted, and he grinned unrepentantly.
He didn’t invite me upstairs.
I didn’t expect him to.
We had time, after all, and part of me was still expecting him to have regrets.