Page 26 of Best Served Cold

“You could always give them this as your gift.” I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the sketch. The way Kai had his fingers woven through Alex’s longish hair, his wide-legged stance, how he stared down at his boyfriend with lust and love blazing. I could almost feel his arousal and their connection through the page.

An image of Zane popped into my head, and my stupid brain superimposed him in Alex’s place. But instead of sucking off Kai, it was me Zane was kneeling for.

River’s laugh ripped me free from that unwanted thought sidequest. “Knowing them, they’d love it. Maybe I’ll give them the PG and the X-rated versions, if I ever get the spark for the PG one.”

I flipped to the next page, which was another of Alex and Kai, only in this one, they were in the reverse roles. Kai was on his knees for Alex, who had his head thrown back and was holding onto a shelf or something above him. The tension was so real he looked like he was seconds from coming. I could actually feel his desperation.

River wasn’t just an extraordinary artist, he had the rare ability to not only capture emotion, but replicate it in his audience.

“I kinda caught them in the back room at work,” River mumbled, quickly turning to a sketch of a goofy-looking dog.

Shit, had he taken my silence as judgment?

“They didn’t notice me the first time, and when I went back thinking they were done, I caught round two. The image got stuck in my head and I had to draw it to get it out.”

“You work with Kai?”

“Yeah. At…my other job.”

I bit my lip so I once again didn’t ask where that was. River was putting a huge amount of trust in me by showing me his work, especially the spicy ones. I respected that.

“That’s gotta be exhausting, working two jobs.”

“Keeps us busy.” He shrugged. “I don’t do well with idle time. Zane says I get into trouble when I have too much time on my hands.”

“Do you?”

He grinned. “Maybe.”

I flipped to a half-finished sketch of a tree. “These are amazing.” I closed the book and pushed it toward him. “You must have spent years studying techniques to get to this point.”

He took the sketchbook back, his cheeks coloring again. “Not really. I took art in school with everyone else, but I just like to doodle.”

“You didn’t take art lessons or anything?” He was self-taught? Jesus. Imagine having that much raw talent.

“Nope. Took other kinds of lessons when we were kids, but art wasn’t one of them. Our parents wanted to tire us out and give us ways to focus our energy and they didn’t understand that art soothes the brain, which helps calm the body.”

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened my gallery. “Want to see some of my work?”

He nodded eagerly and leaned in, so his chin was practically on my shoulder.

I never showed anyone my art, but it felt wrong to not share with River after he’d shared with me.

I clicked on the folder of my old paintings and slowly swiped through them.

“Holy crap.” River got off his stool and stood behind me, his body warm as he pressed against my back and peered over my shoulder. “Go back to that last one.”

I did.

River’s proximity wasn’t really having an effect on me, other than reminding me it had been ages since I’d gotten up close and personal with anyone who didn’t share my DNA.

Not like how his brother’s proximity affected me.

“That’s gorgeous.” The photo was of a watercolor I’d painted as part of my portfolio when I’d been stupid enough to believe I had the talent to get into art school.

I handed him the phone so he could zoom in.

“I wish I could paint,” he mused. “Drawing is easy, but I’ve never been able to get a handle on painting.”

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