Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“I kind of want to kiss your ass. I’m hoping you’ll kiss mine too.” Van winked and Shane rolled his eyes. “I’m serious, Shane.”
He wasn’t sure if Shane believed him, but he didn’t want to get into it right now. “Tour later. Gawking later. I want you naked and in bed with me.”
“I want to be naked and in bed with you,” Shane replied, so they did just that. They stripped out of their clothes, wrapped around each other and passed the hell out. A few hours later they woke up, showered, and then Van took Shane around LA. He hit up some of the usual tourist spots—Hollywood and Highland, Rodeo Drive, and the Santa Monica Pier.
They ate dinner late that night in West Hollywood, on the patio at Hamburger Mary’s.
Shane took it all in—wide-eyed and amazed, almost like a child. It was beautiful to watch. Sure, he’d spent time in Portland, but even as incredible of a city as it was, there was really no place like Los Angeles.
After dinner, they went back to Van’s place, showered, and cleaned up before Van eagerly went ass up for him.
It didn’t take either of them long to spill their loads all over the bed and cling to each other, sweaty and sated.
“That felt good,” Shane said. “Needed you.”
“I needed you too. Haven’t had an orgasm with anyone other than myself since I left. Well, other than you watching over Skype, but it’s not the same.”
“You haven’t?” Shane asked, brows pulled together.
“You thought I would?”
“We never talked about being exclusive. I just didn’t know…you being back here. It’s not like you’re short of options.”
Jesus, he really didn’t get it. “You dumb fucker.” Van pinched his nipple.
“Ouch. What the hell?”
“Do you really not see that I’ve fallen in love with you?” Van asked. Shane gasped but Van ignored it and continued. “You’re not what I expected.”
“How could you expect anything about me? It’s not like you were ever planning to see me again.”
Which wasn’t true. Van hadn’t stopped thinking about Shane in twelve years, even though it was just in regards to his regrets, but he knew Shane didn’t want to hear that. “So? That doesn’t mean I couldn’t have expectations.”
Shane sighed, wrapped an arm around Van and pulled him close. Van let his head rest in the crook of Shane’s arm, nudging himself in as close as he could get. “Can I tell you something?” Shane asked.
“Since I just professed my undying love for you, I’d say we’re past asking that question.”
Shane chuckled. Van could hear it through his chest. “You didn’t mention the undying part. Now you’re just being dramatic,” he teased, paused, ran his fingers through Van’s hair. “One of my biggest fears about coming here was that I wouldn’t be able to walk away from you again. That it would kill me to go.”
Van’s heart beat so hard, he thought if he looked down he would see the outline of it in his chest. He sat up, leaned on his elbow and looked down at his man. “What are you saying here, Shane?”
“Don’t really know. You’re still here and I’m still there but…I’m crazy fucking in love with you and I don’t know what the means for me.”
“We’ll figure it out.” Van rubbed his cheek against Shane’s—stubble to stubble. “We’ll figure it out.”
He put his head on Shane’s chest again, and neither of them moved the rest of the night.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
On Friday Van took Shane to the LA Arts District. Shane had never seen anything like it. It was gritty and urban and full of creativity. Most of the buildings were old industrial buildings that had been revamped and modernized. There was gallery after gallery and street displays with more styles of art than Shane could imagine.
“It’s incredible,” Shane told him as they walked down a sidewalk with murals covering the walls.
“Isn’t it? I used to spend every day here when I first moved to LA. I’d come every day off I had and walk up and down the streets, hoping for the day someone would look at my art the way I was looking at this art.”
His words were almost electric. It was one of Shane’s favorite things about Van—his passion.
“And now you made it.”
“Eh. I do alright.” He shrugged.
“You do better than that. You should be proud of yourself.”
“What about you?” Van asked.
“I don’t know…” And the truth was, he didn’t. “I don’t know if I think it’s me—doing this for anything other than enjoyment.”
“So are you just going to continue to store it all in your studio?”
“Maybe,” he replied. It wasn’t as though he had to have all the answers right then. “Have you read the letter?” he asked, changing the subject.
Van shook his head. Shane had kept himself from asking Van when they spoke over the phone or Skype, but he couldn’t hold back now.