11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Mosby

It was time I came clean with Tyler. I really liked the kid. If my math was right when he'd told me his history, he was twenty-three, and I had turned thirty-nine at the end of February, two days before the anniversary of Alistaire's death. I didn't celebrate anymore. Too many horrible memories associated with it.

Tariq Jackson was twenty-eight when he was with Alistaire, who was forty. Was I falling for the younger man because a younger man had taken Alistaire away from me? No, that was ridiculous. I was only falling for Tyler because he was a bright light in a dim world.

"Let me print the recipe so we can get started and don't have to rely on my phone. Is it too chilly in here? Should I build a fire in the living room?"

Tyler removed his jacket and shoved his sweater sleeves up to his elbows. "Feels good to me. When we turn on the oven, it'll get warmer." I stepped closer to him, his body inches from mine. I reached around him and took two aprons from the hook. One had been Nana's and the other Granddad's.

"Good point." I put the navy apron over my shoulder and the loop for the white and green apron over Tyler's head. It was shorter.

"Spin around." He did as I instructed, and I quickly tied a bow in the back, taking a moment to look at his sexy bubble butt in a pair of black skinny jeans. It was completely bitable, and the urge was nearly overwhelming.

I stepped back and pulled on my own apron before I took off my loafers and put them on the rug by the back door. Tyler did the same without me saying a word. He followed my lead quite well, sending a flutter through my belly.

"When did you stop wearing makeup?" Tyler definitely didn't need it, but he'd said he enjoyed wearing makeup and nail polish when he was younger. I'd noticed I hadn't seen him wearing either the few times we'd been together.

His cheeks flushed, which was erection-inducing. "I stopped when I went to prison. I was trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. There were femme guys there, and they were nice, but they, uh, got passed around. I didn't want that to happen to me."

I touched his shoulder. "Tell me it didn't." I moved my hand to his chin, lifting his face to search his eyes. Please don't lie to me.

"I wasn't passed around like the others, but I did have a cell mate who'd offered to look out for me if I took care of him. Do his laundry. Get his food. Carry messages to other inmates when KC was doing a deal. He kept me safe because nobody would cross him."

I glanced down to see Tyler playing with his fingers as if he was nervous. "What else did you have to do for him?"

Tyler swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. "He was straight, you see, but he would ask me to blow him sometimes. He said he wasn't gay, so he never wanted to have intercourse with me."

I nodded. "Did you have a choice whether you wanted to or not?"

He shook his head, his eyes falling to the floor in shame. I leaned forward and kissed his forehead before I pulled him into my arms where he began to sniffle. I held him tight. "Never again. I'm so sorry that happened to you. I won't let anything like that happen to you again. How long?"

I reached into the back pocket of my jeans and handed him a handkerchief. He wiped his nose, eyes, and cleared his throat. "I'll wash this and get it back to you. I'm sorry I melted down. I try not to think about it. I was transferred to Soledad, a minimum-security prison, so I could attend trade school there, and while I was gone, KC killed another inmate and was transferred to Pelican Bay supermax in Crescent City. I haven't heard from him, and I don't think he'll ever get out."

That was a relief, actually. That was one worry Tyler wouldn't have.

"Have you, uh, ever been with a guy?" I shouldn't have asked, but I had to know.

Before I walked further out on that limb, I wanted to know if he could be satisfied with one man or if he was like men I'd met over the years who needed variety. Like Alistaire, who believed monogamy to be a heteronormative behavior pushed onto us by the conservatives to fit into the box they'd created when they granted us the freedom to marry. The same heteronormative behavior he was planning to pursue with Tariq .

"I, uh, I've never been fucked by a guy. I've put my fingers inside myself when I masturbate, but no. Not sex with anyone."

"You've never had a boyfriend?" Staring at this beautiful man, I found it hard to believe.

"No. Never had a boyfriend."

My heart pounded in my chest. "Passionately kissed?" He shook his head.

My brain had fireworks going off inside like the Fourth of July. Was Tyler Rockwell my prize for being shit on by Alistaire? "Are you interested in any of those things?"

Tyler swallowed again. "With you?"

I lifted my hand and placed it on the side of his neck, my thumb caressing his Adam's apple.

"Y-yes. Yes, I'd be interested in all those things if I could do them with you." He swallowed again, and the sensation shot through my thumb and up my arm. I leaned closer, brushing my lips over his plump ones. The heat from his body seeped into mine. It was like a warm cup of tea on a cold night.

I didn't deepen it, though god knew I wanted to more than anything, but I needed to tell him my secrets because he trusted me with his.

I pulled away and slowly opened my eyes to see his still closed. I kissed each lid and then his forehead. "We'll never eat if we don't cook." I stepped back and went to a cabinet, retrieving a pasta pot and an iron skillet.

"Leslie?" I put both on the island and turned to Tyler, seeing him playing with his fingers again.

I held up my hand. "The first thing I have to tell you is that my name isn't Leslie. Well, that's not exactly true. Leslie is my last name." I filled the pasta pot with water and turned on the stove.

"Your last name?" The worry in Tyler's voice had me smirking for an instant until I thought about the things he'd been exposed to and decided I was being cruel.

I pulled a cutting board out of a cabinet and retrieved a knife from the block, placing everything on the kitchen island before I grabbed the bag of produce and Italian sausage we'd picked up at the grocery. We were making an Italian sausage bake I'd found on a recipe website. It looked easy enough for the two of us to tackle.

"Yes. My name is Mosby Leslie. I'm not in the mob either. I'm a painter, or I used to be. Hell, I don't even know anymore."

That caught his attention. "Can you reach into the cabinet behind you and grab a colander?" I opened the cloth bag and removed the produce for Tyler to clean while I began to sauté the sausage.

"Like houses? "

I chuckled. "It would have been easier, I'm certain. I probably should have been clearer with you. I paint… Come with me."

I took his hand and led him upstairs to my studio. Before I opened the door, I turned to Tyler and smiled. "This is my studio. It's very messy, but I like it this way."

I leaned forward and pecked his lips while I reached behind my back and turned the knob. The room was warm, and the sun shone through the curtainless windows. I scanned the space trying to take in what he saw, and there, on the easel, was the half-finished painting of Tyler.

"Is that how you see me?" He pointed to the canvas.

I stared at it, seeing the slight pink hue I'd added to his cheeks to highlight his beauty. The only thing really missing was his eyes because I wanted to get the color just right.

His irises were lighter than I remembered, but there was more sunlight in this room than there had been in his bedroom when I'd spent the night. "Hang on. Don't go anywhere."

I hurried downstairs and turned off the boiling water on the stove. I hadn't turned on the burner with the sausage yet, so I stuck the pan into the fridge in order not to kill us by food poisoning. I grabbed a stool from the island and hurried back upstairs to the studio .

"Okay, will you give me half an hour? Take a seat." I put the stool in a spot to get the best light possible, and I began mixing paint as I stared at Tyler.

"Can you turn a little to your right?" He did as I asked.

"That's perfect. So, anyway, I destroyed a commission I painted for a client because my boyfriend died. Well, that's not exactly right, either. He committed suicide. He was cheating with someone, and that guy got killed in an accident on a movie set, so Alistaire took a boat out for a joy ride and jumped in Lake Michigan. He drowned. He couldn't swim. Chin up, please."

Tyler lifted his chin. "I'm sorry." His voice was soft, and I knew I'd told the story in the most fucked-up way possible. In fact, I sounded like a callous jackass.

I stood from my stool and placed the palette on top. I walked over to where he was sitting and took his hands in mine, putting his palms flat on my chest. "That came out really horrible, I know. I'm sorry. Alistaire Scott was his name. We'd been together for ten years. We owned a house together in California, and I bought out his half and sent his things to his parents after he died.

"I was a real mess, and I couldn't pull my head out of my ass while I was surrounded by everything we'd built together. I came up here, and I've been hiding for a year. I saw you the day I fell and wanted to get to know you. Telling you I couldn't remember my name or where I lived seemed the best way to be around you. I'm sorry I lied. I'd been painting that morning, which is why I looked like a vagrant, and I've been letting my hair and beard grow so nobody recognizes me."

Tyler stared at me for a moment, so I released his hands. He didn't move them an inch. "I don't lie. I'm the guy who drove the robbers to the sheriff's office, remember? I respect your privacy and won't tell anyone who you are, but please don't lie to me again. It got me in trouble in the past, and I've promised myself I won't tolerate liars anymore."

He quickly pulled his hands from my chest and glanced at the floor. I squatted a bit and looked into his beautiful brown eyes with the gold flecks finally gazing into mine. "You have my word. I will never lie to you again. Promise."

Then, like a total douche, I held out my pinky like I remembered the girls doing in grade school—which was a hell of a long time ago. "Pinky swears."

Tyler grinned at me and his whole face lit up. He held out his pinky. "Pinky swears."

I kissed him again and went back to the canvas. Tyler kept his gaze on me as I painted his eyes the perfect shade of brown with those little golden sparkles. Once the eyes were exactly as I wanted them, I put the brush in the jar on the paint-splattered table and wiped the palette with the shop towels I used upstairs, tossing them into the trash.

I took Tyler's hand and led him out of the room and downstairs. "Let's fix something to eat. So, do you know how to sauté sausage?" He released the most amazing giggle, and I was hooked. Just one giggle, and I was gaga for the guy.

We made dinner using the marinara sauce I'd canned and sliced peppers and onions. I boiled some ziti, not ready to tackle making pasta just yet. Maybe next time.

After we ate, I built a small fire for ambiance, not heat, and we sat in the living room. "How'd you learn to do that?" He was pointing to the crackling fireplace, making the room glow.

"My granddad taught me a long time ago. The house doesn't have a furnace, which makes it really fucking cold in the winter. He said if I was going to spend time at the cabin, I needed to know how to keep myself warm. He said if he came up here and found me frozen solid, he'd be pissed."

Another giggle. I relaxed on the couch and pulled Tyler on top of me. He relaxed with his head on my chest, and I played with his hair. "I'm inexperienced, Les—Mosby. That's actually a cool name. Is it a family name? "

I kissed the top of his head. "My nana's maiden name, actually. Look, I'm fine with inexperience, Tyler. We can see what we like and what we don't. There's no rush for anything to happen between us, but if something makes you uncomfortable, or if you don't want to do something because of what happened when you…uh…" Yeah, I was rambling.

Tyler propped himself up on my chest, left hand holding up his head. "This is probably none of my business, so tell me if you don't want to answer, okay?"

I gave him a small smile as I twisted a lock of his brown hair through my fingers. "Ask away."

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-nine. You're twenty-three, right?"

"I'll be twenty-four on July fifth. When is your birthday?" Tyler was combing through my beard. It was relaxing.

"It was February 28. I don't celebrate it, really. Haven't celebrated since Alistaire and I started dating. He was two years older than me, and it bothered him that he was aging. I mean, we all are fucking aging, aren't we?"

"Kinda hard not to. Would you be offended if we celebrated your birthday after the fact? "

I moved my hands to the small of his back and rubbed my fingers over the top of his sexy ass. "Like what kind of celebrate?"

Tyler giggled again, and his body squirmed on top of me, his hard cock rubbing against mine through our clothes. I wanted to flip us and grind my cock into his, but I wouldn't do that to him. We'd go at his pace—even if it killed me.