Don't Read in the Closet: Volume Four (110 page)

Romeo’s hand in both of his so there’d be no escaping. Romeo

wouldn’t have dreamed of escaping, but if the idea made Julian hold

onto him tighter he wasn’t going to say that.

Julian led up the wide steps and into the portico. Both shed hats

and jackets and boots and bags, leaving them on a bench there. A

great wooden door let them into an elegant columned foyer.

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“This way,” Julian said, leading to the left. “Kitchen is there,” he

waved as they passed the hall, “and you can use this bathroom. Get a

shower; I’ll get you some dry clothes.”

“You should go first,” Romeo protested.

“It’ll just take me a minute to grab you clothes, silly man.”

Of course the house had more than one bathroom, what was he

thinking? Romeo let Julian shove him into a marble-decorated guest

bath.

When he came out in a pair of drawstring yoga pants—yoga

pants!—and a shirt he hoped he wasn’t ruining since he was built

wider than Julian was, all he had to do to find the man of the house

was follow the singing.

Romeo didn’t know the song or even the language, but he was

relieved to notice that Julian sang much better than he hummed. The

voice led him to the kitchen and he stopped in the archway gazing at

heaven on earth.

Unlike the outside of the house, the kitchen had been updated—

but carefully, with modern conveniences put in and none of the

Tuscan flavor taken out. It was bright, spacious, and lined with hand-

carved cabinets and cupboards of aged chestnut. The counters were

marble, the floor terracotta tile, and the appliances made to blend in.

Loveliest by far, though, was Julian, wearing tight jeans and a flannel

shirt too big for him, padding about in rainbow-striped toe socks and

singing as he set out the dinner Romeo had brought.

“But soft,” Romeo said, “what light through yonder window

breaks?”

Julian laughed. “You’re the one in the doorway, Romeo.”

“You’re the one who’s beautiful.”

Julian blushed. Romeo found that too charming to resist. “I’m

going to kiss you,” he told Julian as he walked forward, fair warning

because he held glassware. Julian smiled and set it down. Romeo

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stepped close and leaned in, aiming for no more nose-mashing. Julian

caught Romeo’s face and helped. Romeo closed his eyes and kissed.

A slow breathless eternity passed, filled to overflowing with the

taste of Julian’s lips and the touch of his hands. Romeo prayed it

would last forever, but Julian broke the kiss, turning his head but

pressing his cheek to Romeo’s.

“Sorry,” he gasped out, “I’ll get better.”

Romeo chuckled and slid his arms around Julian’s waist. “I think,”

he said, “we’re supposed to breathe.”

“I know. I just forget.”

“Me too.” Romeo buried a hand in Julian’s damp hair and kissed

the cheek next to his. Kissed Julian’s ear. Kissed a curl drying on

Julian’s neck. Julian shivered.

“Cold?” Romeo pressed Julian to him, but Julian pushed away.

Romeo released him; Julian caught his hand.

“I’m all right. But we should…probably eat.” Julian turned towards

the table. Romeo tugged him back.

“Julian,” he said, raising Julian’s hand to his lips.

“Yes?” Julian breathed.

“I love your socks.”

That laugh, too, went in Romeo’s collection of Julian’s best laughs.

Romeo pulled out a chair and guided Julian into it before he sat and

reached to pour the wine.

“Oh!” Julian said. “I didn’t even think. Did you want to heat this

up since we’re not picnicking tonight?”

“Do you want me to?”

“No.” Julian caught Romeo’s hand as he started to stand. “No. It

looks amazing as it is.”

“Try the
gnocchi
,” Romeo suggested. Julian took one and closed

his eyes with a groan. Romeo grinned.

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“How,” Julian asked as he filled his plate with more
gnocchi
and

other selections, “Romeo how are you not as big as a house eating like

this all the time?”

“Lots of hiking. Walking in streams. Chasing a soccer ball all over

the damned place.”

Julian shot him a shy smile. “I…looked you up and watched a

couple games. You’re really good. Very…” he waved a hand,

“tenacious. One commentator said you’re the only reason your team

wins.”

“We’re a team.” Romeo had heard that too, and it annoyed him.

“They do the set-up and the defense; I get the shot and get the glory.”

“I…wasn’t watching anyone else,” Julian admitted, making Romeo

want to kiss him again but he was just on the far side of close enough

for that. Romeo took his hand and kissed it instead. Julian smiled and

blushed and took his hand back.

“Eat your marvelous food, Romeo.”

“Yes, Julian.” Romeo sipped his wine and smiled back and turned

his attention—some of it, anyway—to his plate. A sock-covered foot

crept onto his under the table and he grinned at his food.

“It’s the strangest thing,” Julian said when the first rush of hunger

was blunted. “You’re so easy to talk to, but tonight I can’t think of a

single thing to say.”

“Me either.” Romeo chuckled and refilled the wine. “So,” he said,

“how was your day?”

“Oh, I like that,” Julian said, leaning his cheek on his hand. “My

day was
amazing
. How was yours?”

“Joyous,” Romeo said. “Utterly glorious. The most unbelievable

thing happened to me.”

“Me too,” Julian breathed.

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Romeo stood up. Julian frowned, but when Romeo put his hands

on the table to lean across it, Julian tilted his head and met him with

another time-stopping kiss.

Leaning on the table made Romeo’s shoulder hurt. He stepped

around the corner and pulled Julian up and into his arms.

Some not-long-enough time later, Julian put his hands on Romeo’s

chest and pushed.

“I’m tired,” he said with a breathless laugh. “Can we sit down?”

“I’m sorry!” Romeo blurted. “I didn’t—”

“Then sign you up for the next Iron Man.” Julian took Romeo’s

hand and led into the next room. It was as big as the dining room at

the inn and twice as high, but here and there were huddled seating

groups. Julian led to a couch/lounge/chair grouping that faced the tall

windows with a view onto the deck and the hill beyond. The storm

still rumbled about the hill’s crest. Flickering lightning and distant

thunder punctuated the view.

“Your house is amazing, Julian.”

“It’s not mine.” Julian turned towards the other end of the room.

“But yes. It is. I use the loft for my studio. I can see most of the hill

and down into the valley from up there.”

The loft ran across the end of the room and above the foyer.

Romeo saw a flash of lighting and realized that window was where

the balcony was—Julian’s studio. Since he hadn’t been invited there

yet, Romeo stored that fact away for later use.

“Geez, Romeo.” Julian shoved and Romeo fell into the couch.

“Hey!”

Julian grinned and sat. He took Romeo’s face in his hands and in a

joyful heartbeat they were kissing again.

Far too soon he pulled away again. “Turning my head like that

gives me a crick in my neck,” he complained.

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“Let’s try—” Romeo turned towards Julian, but their knees

clashed. Julian grabbed an ottoman and sat in front of him, but Romeo

shook his head. “Now you’re too far away.”

“Well, damn it, something has to work,” Julian growled.

“You could put your legs across my lap?”

“No.” Julian jerked his head in denial. “Hell. Didn’t you ever kiss

anyone before?”

“Not anyone I wanted to kiss more than once.”

“Oh…” Julian said softly. “We…need to figure this out.”

“You’re the smart one.” Romeo sat forward to take Julian’s hand

from Julian’s knee. “I’ll just amuse myself while I wait.”

“You’re just as—oh!”

Romeo grinned and nibbled the next finger.

“Oh…” Julian said again.

“Haven’t you ever kissed anyone?” Romeo asked, continuing his

exploration.

“Not…not really? That…Romeo…”

“You’re twenty-two,” Romeo said. “Never dated?”

“No.” Julian took his hand back. “I really should tell you—”

“Oh, I know.” Romeo turned sideways in the couch, putting his

bare feet up. Romeo patted the space next to him. The sofa was deep

and Julian was slender; there was plenty of room. “Come here.”

“Romeo—” Julian stood, but he didn’t sit. Romeo grabbed behind

Julian’s knees and pulled, folding his legs. If Julian could push him,

that was fair too.

“Whoa!” Julian landed kneeling on the couch. Romeo wrapped a

hand in his shirt and tugged.

“Oh hell,” Julian said, and kissed him.

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Romeo had always thought kissing-with-tongue gross until it was

Julian’s tongue slipping into his mouth. Julian’s hands held his face,

pulling him closer; Romeo buried a hand in Julian’s hair and wrapped

an arm around his shoulders, clinging just as tightly. When the not-

breathing head-spinning got emphatic, he broke away to heave in air.

Julian’s lips brushed his jaw, nip of teeth, oh…Romeo gasped on

Julian’s neck and Julian shivered against him and Romeo realized he’d

done that and set out to do it again.

All the world shrank down to Julian, to touching him and kissing

him and gasping for air. To shivers and soft sounds and an occasional

sloppy slurp. Romeo nibbled Julian’s ear and tasted his neck while

those incredible hands tangled in his hair. Julian kissed his eyes, his

nose, his lips in a gentle touch that deepened until they clung together

desperately trying for just…a little…more…then had to break for air

again. Julian let his head fall to Romeo’s shoulder and he lay there

being breathtaking, his cheeks flushed and hair mussed, his lips

reddened and eyes dreamy. Romeo swallowed hard and reached a

reverent hand to touch. Brushed back Julian’s hair, traced his cheek,

stroked his thumb across Julian’s lips, trailed his fingers down Julian’s

neck.

Julian’s shirt was soft from wear and in the aggressive snuggling

several buttons had come undone. Romeo traced over bare, heated

skin to let his hand rest on Julian’s thudding heart.

“Julian,” he said, “I love you.”

With a lurch and a wriggle Julian was gone, on the other side of

the coffee table with his head turned away, the shirt closed and his

arms wrapped around.

“Romeo,” he said softly, “you’d better go.”

“I’m sorry! I—”

“Please,” Julian said more softly. He didn’t look angry. He

looked…sad. Lost, like the day they met at his parents’ grave. In the

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rainbow-striped toe-socks his toes were clenched. Romeo bit back

further argument and went to gather his things.

He didn’t say anything and Julian didn’t either, even when Julian

opened the door for him. And he still wouldn’t look at Romeo. Romeo

sighed in his wet clothes and slung his bag on his shoulder and went

out the front door wishing they’d just stayed on the balcony—on the

deck—forever.

“I’m sorry,” he said again before the door closed, but he doubted

Julian heard.

Romeo was soaked when he got home, and he didn’t care. His

father was angry he’d worried them. His mother was angry he’d been

foolish enough to get soaked. Romeo let them scold and did what he

was told and went to bed washed and warm and fed and lay staring at

the beams of the ceiling until the storm had rumbled on and a grey day

dawned.

Then he got up and started cooking. He didn’t know what else to

do.

Julian didn’t believe he was sincere. Or maybe he’d just moved too

fast. He had to prove his love, or apologize enough. Either would be