“I’d like to finishoneline,” he said. “Oh!” He turned to Jesse. “Could I have one of the sheets when we’re finished?”
“You want one page of a six-page newspaper?”
Arthur’s face reddened. “Just . . . as a keepsake.”
“Sure,” Jesse said with a shake of his head.
Arthur smiled. “Thank you.”
Arthur resumed composing the line of type. He continued to feel Jesse’s intoxicating presence beside him while he worked. Not only the weight of Jesse’s leg pressing against his, either, but Jesse’s overall closeness. It was very hard to concentrate with him being so... soright therelike that.
Arthur’s heart began thumping excitedly, its beats fierce enough that he found himself wondering whether Jesse might even be able to hear its rhythmic movements.
It took Arthur five more minutes to finish the line, which seemed like a very long time compared to how long Jesse had taken with his. Gazing at the finished product, Arthur felt both foolish and proud simultaneously, his cheeks warming while a separate heat swirled in his chest.
After pushing the wooden stick back over to Jesse, Arthur reached for his spectacles, but Jesse took them from the table before he could retrieve them.
“I need those to see clearly farther than a few feet in front of me,” Arthur said, keeping his tone playful as he turned toward Jesse.
Jesse began reaching toward Arthur’s face. Arthur’s lenses were balanced between his long, nimble fingers. Once Arthur realized what was happening, his heart stuttered. Fear and excitement crashed together and began coursing through his veins at the same time.
Gingerly, Jesse set the pince-nez-style frames back on the bridge of Arthur’s nose. He even knew to pinch the sides of the nosepiece together so that they’d stay on. One of Jesse’s hands lingered, and his fingers brushed Arthur’s cheek. Arthur let out a shuddered breath.
“Jesse...” Arthur whispered, though he wanted to say so much more. He was simply too overwhelmed by the beauty of the moment to come up with something better, something sweeter.
Although, what could have been sweeter than the sound of Jesse’s name?
Jesse moved his thumb back and forth, back and forth, on Arthur’s cheek over the faintest hint of stubble.
“I know. I like you, too, Arthur.”
Arthur’s breath caught. Even though he had been certain—one hundred percentcertain—over the last hour that Jesse reciprocated these romantic feelings, it still felt so wonderful to hear Jesse speak those beautiful words out loud. He could hardly believe the precise words that Jesse had chosen when he had made his confession, either.I like you, too, Arthur.With that, Jesse had spoken of Arthur’s own crush for him. It was as though he had taken on the entirety of the responsibility for what was between them.
Oh, what a magnificent man Jesse O’Connor was.
Now it was Arthur’s turn to be bold.
He checked to make sure the curtains were closed. Then, slowly, he leaned forward. His wild heart thumped excitedly as a swell of nervousness caused his stomach to swoop. Good Lord, he hadn’t been kissed in sixteen years. And he had never, ever kissed a man before.
Jesse slid his thumb over Arthur’s cheek one more time, and the sweet gesture provided Arthur with enough courage to follow through. After one more long, terrifying second, Arthur touched his lips to Jesse’s in a featherlight kiss.
Immediately, Arthur’s body started to tremble, and he wondered whether or not he ought to pull back. But then, he caught a whiff of the faintest hint of something sweet lingering on Jesse’s skin, and a lightning bolt of needshot through him.
Oh, how he needed more. More of the smell. More of the kiss. More ofJesse.
Hooking his hand behind Jesse’s head, Arthur deepened their kiss. Quivering with a mixture of need and want and fear and like, Arthur touched his tongue to Jesse’s lips—a silent plea for entrance—and Jesse responded by opening his mouth wider and kissing their tongues together. Jesse moaned into Arthur’s mouth as their tongues twirled in the midst of the intricate ballet that was this beautiful forbidden something between them.
One minute passed, or perhaps two, while they continued to kiss. Arthur’s fingers became tangled in Jesse’s soft, beautiful hair while one of Jesse’s hands roamed over Arthur’s chest, first clutching tight to one of Arthur’s lapels and then playing with his cravat—the same blue cravat that he had worn when they had first spent time together.
And then, finally, Jesse pulled back. Arthur let out a soft, pathetic whimper in response to the loss of contact.
Jesse’s hand moved behind Arthur’s head, and he tipped their foreheads together. Both men stayed silent for a few seconds, savefor their forceful exhales as they panted from the emotional exhaustion of their intimacy. Arthur continued to lightly twist Jesse’s hair between his fingers.
After a while, Jesse said, “I need to finish the formes.” He heaved a sorrowful-sounding sigh. “I need to finish the formes, but...”
He trailed off. Arthur knew precisely what Jesse wanted to say. Jesse wanted them to keep kissing. And Arthur wanted them to keep kissing, too.
He winced from a sudden twinge of pain in his chest, his heart splintering from the realization that the two of them might not have the chance to kiss again for a while after this. Unable to even entertain the possibility of not kissing Jesse for hours or weeks or, hell, any length of time, Arthur caught Jesse’s mouth in one more hungry kiss. Jesse’s tongue brushed his, and Arthur let out a happy hum, his earlier pain temporarily tempered, but then Jesse placed a palm flat on Arthur’s chest and pushed.
