Page 19 of Merrick

Wilder did, moving slowly through the photos of Merrick’s most recent pieces. He took his time, and Merrick watched him carefully. The way his brows furrowed, the way he zoomed in on tiny details scattered through each piece. Wilder asked him about every single one, and Merrick answered his questions with as much detail as he wanted. Wilder never once looked bored or bothered, and he asked Merrick to elaborate, to point out places he’d used what technique. Almost an hour passed before Wilder finally gave up his phone, and Merrick had never felt so seen. The air in the room crackled and shifted. Merrick exhaled, his shoulders sagging as he set his phone face down on the table beside his empty water bottle.

“I don’t think you invited me over to talk about painting,” he said.

“Didn’t I?”

Merrick rolled his eyes.

“Not entirely, no,” Wilder conceded. He held his hand out, palm up, and Merrick tentatively touched their fingertips together before giving Wilder more of his hand to hold. It was easy to sit on the couch with him like this. Merrick was relaxed,he was at ease, but most of all he was ready for whatever Wilder had to say next.

CHAPTER 8

Wilder

He’d maybe underestimatedhis own fascination with Merrick, but after listening to him talk about painting techniques and art for well near an hour, his interest was impossible to ignore. Merrick’s hand fit so well in his, clammy palm and all.

“You remember earlier, I said I was a Dom.” He curled his fingers around Merrick’s and turned their hands upside down before lowering them both down to the couch. He didn’t let go.

“I remember.”

“Your sign last night said no D/s. Is that because you’re against the idea?” he asked.

“I’m not against it. I just didn’t want to do all the talking that normally comes with it,” Merrick said.

“You? Not wanting to talk?”

Merrick’s expression darkened at the taunt, and Wilder brushed his thumb across the swell of Merrick’s cheekbone.

“Don’t be cross,” Wilder murmured, knowing all was well when Merrick’s lashes fluttered and he leaned into Wilder’s retreating touch.

“Sometimes the sex helps me turn off, like it quiets all the chatter in my mind.”

“You’re using sex to medicate?”

“Not that.” Merrick’s eyes went wide and he shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong. I just know most people?—”

“Most people aren’t here,” Wilder interrupted. “Most people are not in this room.”

“I know that, but I can’t just pretend they don’t exist because they’re not here this very second.”

That was fair, and Wilder told him as much. Merrick was already turning out to be so much different from what Wilder had expected him to be, and he liked that. Not that Merrick would be a challenge, but he would be new. Fresh.

“Okay, hold on.” Wilder held up his hand, giving them both a pause. “I’m going about this wrong. I approached this from a place of presumption, and I need to backtrack a little.”

“You didn’t presume anything.”

He smiled sweetly at Merrick, so earnest and nervous while also being somehow completely at ease. The duality of the man across from him was not lost on Wilder, the way the physical reactions of his body didn’t quite mesh with the words out of his mouth. It was as if Merrick so desperately wanted to be something only half of himself could allow.

“This morning when I told you I wanted you, I meant it. I don’t do open relationships and I’m not a huge fan of casual. I appreciate commitment. I require it. I also know asking you to commit to me in any way when we don’t know a single thing about each other is probably the biggest red flag?—”

Merrick cut him off. “I hear you, but it’s not. I don’t want you to think that about yourself.”

“Why isn’t it a red flag?”

“You’re thinking of me in all this too, right?” Merrick asked, running a hand over the short hairs on the top of his head. “Not just yourself?”

“Right.”

“You’re trying to create safety,” Merrick said. “I respect that.”