“What are you thinking about so hard over there?” Edison asked, walking until he was standing beside him.
Bishop set his beer on the island and turned to face him head-on. “I was thinking I want to be your boyfriend, but wondering if guys even ask that anymore.”
Edison’s smile started slowly before he was soon beaming. “I… I don’t know if they do or not. I think most people just change their Facebook relationship status and that’s that. But, I’m a bit old-fashioned.”
“I noticed… and I like that.” Bishop felt his own lips tugging in the corners as he placed both hands over Edison’s cheeks and lifted his head until he was looking at him. “I wanna be your man, Edison.”
Edison nodded.
“Good,” Bishop murmured against Edison’s lips, then kissed him as thoroughly as he’d wanted to in the bookstore. One of them groaned and Bishop felt Edison’s soft hands on his throat, then along the back of his neck. He grunted against the urge to thrust his hips, and instead hugged Edison’s waist closely, his eyes shut tight as pleasure flooded his body. Pleasure like he’d never known. He felt such a deep connection to Edison that went far beyond his sexual needs, and straight to his hurt soul. Somehow, this remarkable man was all up in his head, and it only made coming together like this that much more powerful and that much more stimulating.
“Come on,” Edison panted as he broke them apart. He took Bishop’s hand and started to lead him down the hall, past the guest bathroom, to his bedroom. Edison opened the door, flicking on a light switch that started the ceiling fan. Edison released his hand and walked farther into the room, next to a large, neatly-made bed, and turned on the lamp atop one of the nightstands. Bishop glanced around, noticing the furniture was big and comfortable just like in the rest of the house, but there were more books and pictures filling the shelves on the wall and the two tall dressers on the opposite side of the room. Bishop would have to explore those later.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Edison
Edison draped his jacket across the ottoman of the one chair in his room. “Just make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna use the bathroom.” Edison hoped his voice wasn’t as shaky as he felt.
Bishop was watching him like a lion watched a gazelle. The hunger and inevitable capture was all there in those dark eyes, and Edison felt his body react.
Holy moly! Edison mouthed after he closed himself in his bathroom, leaning against the door in awe. He wasn’t scared, not even a little bit. He was at ease with Bishop and he was more than ready to take this next step… with his boyfriend. He couldn’t believe it. Finally! He’d really been enjoying Bishop’s company and getting to know him over the past month, but he’d tried not to get too excited on the off-chance things didn’t work out. Which they typically didn’t for him in that department. He wasn’t as naive as most people thought he was, and for him to snag a man like Bishop was a one in a million dream come true for him. Not because of Bishop’s appearance and that they made an interesting-looking couple, but because Bishop was one of the most gentle, sweetest, talented, smart, ambitious men he’d ever met. And yes, heck yes, he wanted Bishop to be his boyfriend, his man, his first, his lover, his… his all. It was a risk, a helluva gamble. But Bishop had always been honest and real with him from the beginning. Edison had had the man alone in his home for weeks and Bishop had given him no reason not to trust him… especially with his heart.
Edison loosened the top two buttons of his dress shirt, then unbuttoned and rolled up the sleeves. He washed his hands, then hurried to floss, and brush his teeth. His hands trembled when he snatched the hand towel off the rack to dry his face. He checked his reflection in the full-length mirror, and ran his hand over his chest, feeling good about himself… feeling ready. He turned off the light and eased the door closed behind him. His eyes locked on Bishop’s back as he stood in front of one of his dressers looking at the many photos of him and his pop. He felt his face warm when Bishop lingered on a photo of him—a hundred pounds heavier—and his father in front of his barber shop.
His heart almost leapt into his throat when Bishop turned to face him. His shoes and everything were still on, but his jet black button-up shirt was wide open, displaying Bishop’s broad chest. He tried to breathe normally as he took in the smooth, black hair that ran down Bishop’s abs and into his waistband.