Page 26 of Dreams and Reptiles

“Not in my life, currently.”

“Francis, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No,” he said, stepping closer to me. He reached out, looked at his hand, looked at the bugs, and grimaced. “I need to wash up. Here, need help with your new friends?”

“I’ll take pity on you. No thanks, I got this. How about I meet you in the kitchen in a few?”

“Perfect.”

He darted down the stairs and, a few moments later, I heard the sink turn on and him singing along to whatever was playing on the house-wide speaker system. Had to admit that was a pretty damn cool feature.

I gathered up the last of the crickets I could see, then checked the nooks and crannies in the rest of the room to make sure the coast was clear. I poked around under the sink in the en suite and found some cleaning supplies, so I wiped down the corner of the room and sprayed a hefty amount of Windex in the crease where they may or may not have crawled in. By the time I made it downstairs with my two containers in tow, Francis was just finishing scrubbing up his arms. I set the bugs outside the slider, closed the door, and joined him at the sink. He’d set down towels for me on the counter as well.

He hopped up onto the counter and sat watching me as I lathered up my forearms and hands. He reached into a small basket by the sink and pulled out another tube of lip balm, and I nearly whimpered as he spread it over his plush lips, but his uneasy expression concerned me.

“What is it?” I asked as I dried my hands. I set the towel down and stood next to his knee.

“I’d been nervous about having you over, but now that you’re here, I like it.”

I took a chance and ran my hand along the outside of his thigh. “I’m glad,” I said. “Why nervous?”

He sighed. “That’s not a story for today.”

“Understood,” I said, moving closer, standing between his open knees and gazing into his eyes. “Tell me or don’t, whatever you want. But I do have another question.”

He cocked his head to the side and rested his hands hesitantly on my shoulders. “What’s that?”

I reached up and picked a piece of paint out of his hair and showed him. “What else have you been up to today?”

He glanced at my finger then ran his own hands through his hair with a groan. “Oh, I am a disaster! It’s not done. I usually don’t like showing my work until it’s done, but you could get a pass, I suppose.”

He slid forward as if to hop down, but I didn’t move.

I loved looking up at him, and he was downright delectable in his stretched-out t-shirt that showed more of his golden skin than I’d seen up to this point. I slowly ran my fingers along his sides and around his back, breathing in another sweet smell.

“What do you use on your lips?”

“Oh, this? It’s Toasted Marshmallow. Like?”

“Mmm, and the lemon cake one from the other day.”

I leaned closer and inhaled with a sigh, but I didn’t kiss him. I didn’t want to push.

“I’m glad you texted me,” I finally said. “I was having trouble waiting until tomorrow to see you.”

His soft smile was back. He ran his nails up and down the nape of my neck and my scalp. “I’m glad I wasn’t the only one.”

“I want to respect your boundaries, but I just love being around you.”

“Say less.”

I chuckled, but a sense of urgency quieted my voice, made me approach with caution but intensity. “Is this okay?” I ran my fingers up his naked back under the short t-shirt, and he shivered. His head fell back, and I wanted at his throat. “Francis?”

“Yes,” he moaned, and I took that as an answer and consent.

I ran my nose along his throat and kissed under his jaw. I’d already learned that he had the most sensitive skin there. I wanted to taste him for hours. I sucked gently, nibbling with my lips and teeth, careful not to leave marks, and he gripped my shoulders tighter. He hooked his ankles around my waist and moaned as he tried to get closer.

“I swear,” I said, moving to his earlobe. “I love talking with you, but God, Francis⁠—”