Page 50 of Cherry on Top

“It’s good.” Will licked his lips, and his gaze flicked to Enzo’s. But they’d agreed they weren’t doing it. They weren’t closing this distance between them.

“Could be better,” Enzo said wryly.

Will nodded and tucked his head in, dipping it low, lips barely brushing over Enzo’s neck. Enzo felt himself inhale sharply. But he didn’t move. Didn’t think he could move.

“As good as we’re getting,” Will finally said, right before he released him.

Enzo didn’t want to leave the warm circle of his arms, but if he didn’t, he wouldn’t.

“Did that . . .uh . . .give you enough inspiration?”

“Yeah.” Will’s voice was deep and a little rough, scraping over Enzo’s nerves. “Plenty. I know just what I’ll say.”

Enzo was not tempted at all to follow him to the Inn and listen to Will telling his side of the encounter. Nope. Because if he did, that would totally defeat the whole point of what they were trying to do. Because if he did, there was no way they’d avoid kissing for real.

And you really want to.

“Text me after and let me know how it goes,” Enzo said.

Will shot him a knowing grin. “You wanna know what I’m gonna say.”

“Well, yeah.” He was trying to be good, trying to do the right thing, not dead.

“Between the two of us, you’re the one famous for his imagination,” Will teased. “I think you’ll be able to fill in the blanks.”

Enzo made a face but he nodded. “Fine. Yes.” He did not add that he’d be filling in those blanks while he touched his cock and imagined that his hand was bigger and calloused with work. That it was attached to a big mountain of a man with kind blue eyes.

“Goodnight, Enzo,” Will said. “Thanks for dinner. For uh . . .the laughter. And everything.”

“Honestly, it was my genuine pleasure, Stud Muffin,” Enzo said and meant it.

Will smiled and turned away, heading towards the Inn.

Enzo knew he should turn and go, too—the other way—but instead, he stood there for a long time, watching as Will’s figure disappeared into the darkness.

Finally, when he couldn’t see it any longer, he turned and headed towards his mom’s house.

And, to his surprise, it was dark again.

Where was his mother and what was she doing during these long evenings?

It was almost ten at night. She should be home. He’d fully expected that she would be, and she’d be incredibly eager to hear how it had gone. That he’d be giving his own recital of the date.

Enzo stared at the empty dark house and then finally went up the stairs to his old apartment over the garage. Regretting that it was also dark. And lonely.

There was no mountain of a man waiting for him, and no blue eyes full of laughter as Enzo called him the most ridiculous nicknames he could come up with.

Being alone had never bothered Enzo before. He remembered when he moved out of Chiara and Ilaria’s loft to his own tiny studio, and how he’d gloried in the silence. How he’d never once come home and thought, isn’t it just a little too quiet? like he was doing now.

“Stop it,” he told himself, out loud. “Just fucking stop it.”

His brain didn’t need to supply any more reasons to want Will Johnson. Or any more reasons it was a terrible idea. Including that he was apparently now missing him even though he’d just walked away.

Will swore he could feel Enzo’s gaze on him long after he turned and headed back to the Inn. Even though he told himself it wasn’t real, that Enzo wasn’t watching him, wasn’t following him, he felt the weight of that stare on him all the way back to Joy’s house.

Just like he’d expected, there was Joy sitting on one of the long, shallow porch swings, but to his surprise, she wasn’t alone.

Nope. Even Giana was lying in wait for them.

---