I nod, reluctant to leave the open-air intimacy of our rooftop.
He takes my hand and walks me to the elevator. Once on the road, he navigates the thickening traffic with one hand on the wheel, one hand holding mine on the console between us. We don’t talk much, but he absently strokes the ink along my thumb. “In A Sentimental Mood” sighs through the speakers, Duke Ellington’s keys and John Coltrane’s collaborating notes filling the air. I can already sense Canon’s mind slipping away into shadowed corners, probably for a clandestine meeting with his mistress, Dessi Blue.
“So I assume you have plans for the rest of the day?” I ask.
“What?” He glances over at me, that vague look in his eyes. I had all of him on that rooftop, but a man like Canon? His art is a demanding taskmaster, and I don’t mind sharing.
“You have work to do?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “I need to set up shots for tomorrow. Meeting Kenneth in an hour.”
“Thank you for this morning,” I say when we pull up in front of my place. “I enjoyed our secret Sunday.”
I open the car door, knowing he’ll probably pull off before the door is even closed, but he surprises me. He touches my arm and leans over to kiss me. It starts like butterfly wings, just brushes of our lips, and deepens, passion rising and overtaking. I slide my hand up his neck, cup the hard ridge of his jaw. I could kiss him all day, but he pulls back after a few seconds. Kisses my cheeks and nose.
“So next Sunday?” he asks, tucking my hair behind my ear. “It’s a date?”
My big, cheesy grin holds nothing back because I don’t know how where Canon is concerned, and I drop a quick kiss on his lips.
“Next Sunday. It’s a date.”