“Of course I can relate,” he said. “If I didn’t make art every day—make something—I’d fall into a really dark place.” He looked up at me, my hand still clasped gently in his. “I have fallen into that place.”
My fingers curled around his. “What kind of place?”
Ian scooted his chair closer, until our arms brushed together and I could smell the clean scent of him. He turned in his seat, and his face was serious as he seemed to search for the right words.
“I’m nervous to tell you this,” he started, the look in his eyes hesitant. “But I like you a lot, and I want to be honest and upfront with you before you…before you decide.”
My eyebrows knitted as his fingers laced through mine, forearms brushing together, an intimate slide of warm skin against skin. “Decide what?”
“Whether it’s a deal breaker.” He blew out a deep breath and raked his dark hair back with the long fingers of his free hand. “I kind of…went dark for a few days because I needed to think, because it’s been a few years since I’ve met someone I liked so much. As much as I like you. And I’m sorry if I left you hanging—that wasn’t my intention, really, but I just had to have some space to sort through my thoughts. Because I really. . .” he trailed off, as if searching for the words. “Because I really like you, and it was as intimidating as it was exciting. I needed to make sure that I was ready for…for whatever goes on between us. Whatever will go on.”
With my other hand, I toyed with one of the oversized buttons on the front of my cardigan. “Sounds heavy.”
He nodded, his expression grim. “It is. I’m a recovering alcoholic, and I just…I wasn’t sure when to tell you. How to tell you. It can make dating hard at this age. A little scary.” He exhaled a deep breath. “I’ve been sober for three years.”
I blinked, and the knot in my gut eased. Dissolved. “Is that all?”
He nodded, his surprise at my response obvious. “Doesn’t it scare you?”
I shook my head, a smile curling my lips. “No,” I said, voice breathless with relief. “God, no, not if you’ve been sober for three years. Honestly, I’m still stuck on you telling me how much you like me.”
Ian shook his head and chuckled as he shifted further toward me, leaning in closer. “I do,” he murmured. “I like you a lot, and I’m so fucking relieved that you aren’t…aren’t freaked out about me being in recovery.”
“I’m not,” I breathed as his face—his lips—drifted temptingly closer. “I think it’s great, and very brave.”
When his lips pressed against mine, they were soft. Gentle and exploring, like the warm hug we’d shared the week before. I breathed him in—his clean fragrance, the mint of his toothpaste that clung to him—and savored every detail. His tongue licked at the seam of my lips, and I opened for him, letting him sweep inside to twine his tongue with mine.
Too soon, he broke away with a sigh and leaned his forehead against mine. “I wanted to do that last week,” he whispered, even though there was no one else in the room to hear us. No one using the room for hours yet, either. “But it was just lunch, you know?”
“Everybody knows that you can’t kiss after lunch,” I whispered back, my tone teasing. “It’s against the rules.”
“Only after dinner,” he returned, his eyes glimmering with humor. “And after knitting and drawing classes.”
His lips found mine again, more aggressive this time—the kind of thorough, claiming kiss I had wanted from him from the start. He shifted in his seat to pull me across his lap and into his arms, and I was lost for endless minutes. Lost in the kiss, lost in the pleasure he triggered with his mouth and tongue, lost in whatever spell he wove around me without even seeming to realize it.
“I have to go,” I finally said after I pulled away, breathing hard and feeling the high flush burn on my cheeks.
He studied me, dark eyes hooded and slumberous and filled with arousal. “Me, too. The shop opens soon.” He paused, as though considering what he was about to say. Unsure of what I might say in return. “Can I see you tonight?”
I leaned in to press one more kiss to his full lips. “Yes. My house. I’ll text you the address.”
It took tremendous effort to push myself away from Ian, to walk toward the exit with my bag slung around my shoulder while I knew his dark eyes still watched me after the kisses we’d just shared. I turned around one last time before I left, meeting that hungry midnight gaze that set my entire body on fire.
“I’m really glad that I met you, Sam,” he said quietly.
I smiled back. “I’m glad that I met you, too,” I returned. “It feels good.”