Page 76 of Cherry on Top

Wanted to lick the sweat up his spine.

His cock was a hard, aching weight in his jeans as he stared, like a total creeper.

He nearly said something, but then, as he watched, Enzo plucked a paintbrush out of the back pocket of his jeans and dipped it into the can at his feet and then began to paint.

He was creating the outcropping, the high point Eliza stood on, Enzo realized, as he dabbed and brushed, something blooming out of nothing—out of just his imagination.

Will didn’t know how long he stood there, mesmerized, as Enzo unleashed his unbelievable skill and vision onto his wall.

He was beginning to understand why Enzo had been so pissed off when Will had thought, even for a minute, that he was vandalizing his building with graffiti that was rough, uncreative, without purpose. Nothing like what Enzo was really capable of.

He’d known that Enzo was going to keep doing mural painting. It was his calling and his job, so of course he would. He’d go on traveling around, to different cities, gracing them with his talent. But now he really understood. Enzo was special. His creations were special. It would’ve been an utter shame for him to be trapped here in Indigo Bay.

Will wanted him, but he wanted him like this. Being the best version of himself.

How was that going to work?

He lived here and Enzo didn’t?

That didn’t sound so great, but then the alternative, Will reminded himself, was worse: no Enzo at all.

Enzo had said he didn’t know how it was going to work, and Will would just have to trust him.

He was so lost to the work he didn’t even notice Will watching him, and finally, when the bright heat of the sun got to him, Will turned and walked back inside.

It’s going to work out; it has to. It can’t feel like this and not work out.

But Will knew that life didn’t, sometimes.

By the time Enzo got home, showered the sweat of the day off, and then took off for the Inn again, he was buzzing with anticipation and exhilaration.

Only by pouring himself into the work today, pushing himself hard into a focused zone, had he been able to resist the urge to beg Will to play hooky with him. To return to the bed they’d just left.

He didn’t know where his mother was—and didn’t really want to be thinking about her right now—but she wasn’t on the front porch like she’d been last night, so he headed straight into the Inn and up the staircase.

The point this time wasn’t necessarily to be seen, though Enzo wasn’t against being seen.

He was just too focused to want to be bothered with anybody else right now.

There was just Will. Only Will.

Breathless from his jog up the stairs, he paused in front of Will’s door and knocked.

Like he’d been waiting, Will opened it on the first knock and immediately took Enzo’s arm, tugging him in.

He was in a white T-shirt and blue shorts, hugging all those rippling muscles Enzo wanted to explore more closely. His mouth watered.

Enzo had dressed relatively simply too. T-shirt. Shorts. Easy to remove, though he wasn’t exactly proud that the thought had crossed his mind more than once as he’d been getting dressed.

For a second, Will stared at him, eyes flicking to his mouth, and they didn’t say anything.

Enzo swallowed hard. “Hey,” he said. Suddenly feeling awkward and a little stupid. Should he have not been so goddamned eager?

Then Will bent towards him, his mouth reaching for his, and it was all over.

They both went up like dry kindling, stumbling to the edge of the bed, lips fused together, hands everywhere. Then Will’s fingers found the hem of his shirt and tugged it up, over his head.

Enzo did the same, groaning as he finally got to touch Will’s bare chest, follow every smooth line of muscle he’d been dreaming about seeing up close and personal.

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