Page 60 of Familiar Things New

Andrew cupped Edwin’s chin. Edwin swallowed thickly as Andrew scooted closer on the sofa.

And then, before Edwin could reconsider, Andrew leaned in and kissed him. Edwin’s heart fluttered the moment their lips connected. Quivering slightly, he raised his hand to cup Andrew’s cheek.

Over the next chunk of forever—magical, wonderful seconds that felt like much longer—they kissed and kissed and kissed.

And after only a little while more, Andrew’s tongue lightly brushed Edwin’s lips, as though he was maybe requesting permission for them to kiss more deeply. Tentatively, Edwin accepted, opening his mouth wider in response. Right away, Andrew’s tongue found his, and blood then rushed to Edwin’s pelvic region. Surrendering to the splendor, Edwin moaned into Andrew’s mouth and began to rock his hips, finding friction from the stiff fabric of his pants, the crease in the middle of his crotch hitting a certain spot perfectly. Too perfectly.

Jesus Christ.

Equal parts lust and fear seized hold of him, and he broke their kiss.

“Dear God,” he whispered through an exhale. “We need to stop.”

Breathless, Andrew only nodded. He backed away and adjusted his pants. Without meaning to, Edwin let his eyes flicker to Andrew’s crotch, and his stomach swooped, heat spreading across his cheeks upon seeing Andrew’s obvious bulge. Andrew fumbled for a nearby pillow and set it atop his lap.

“Don’t be mad,” he said. “I really am fine with only kissing. I promise.”

Still blushing, Edwin huffed a laugh. “Oh, Andrew, of course I’m not mad.”

Andrew pressed his lips more firmly together, as though he was trying to keep himself from saying something.

“You’re trying not to say sorry, aren’t you?” Edwin asked, a playful lilt in his voice.

Andrew chuckled. “Yes. Sorry.”

Affection bloomed in Edwin’s chest. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Andrew’s lips, letting out a sigh when it was over.

“I think I should go. I’m sure Agnes and my mother are missing me.”

Edwin so fervently wished he could stay instead. Andrew moved his injured leg—straightening his knee and then bending it, and Edwin was struck with an idea.

“Do you want me to come back tomorrow? Once I’m finished taking care of the plants? I could try to make it to the conservatory early so that I can help you with your business afterward. With your knee being so swollen—”

“You wouldn’t mind?” Andrew asked.

“No, not at all. I’d like it. I think.” Edwin’s face fell. Andrew’s business involved interacting with other people. Constantly. “Actually, do you think . . . I hate to ask this, but do you think that maybe you’d be able to keep being the one to speak with customers? I’m just not sure if I’d be able to manage it myself. Because of my shyness, I mean. I could . . . help take the photographs, though? I remember a good bit from our lesson.”

“Sounds perfect,” Andrew said. “And, uhm, will you stay afterward? Just for a little while. Because I’d really like to spend more time with you. Like this.”

Edwin smiled fondly. Andrew was entirely too endearing.

“I’d like that too,” Edwin said, his cheeks reddening.

And then he planted one more kiss on Andrew’s lips.

Chapter Sixteen

Andrew

Andrew’s smile broadened as he welcomed his and Edwin’s third group of customers into the studio. Just like they’d agreed upon, he had been showing the families in all morning, while Edwin had been observing and helping with a few other things, like coating and changing out the plates and running back and forth between the darkroom and the camera, all of which helped alleviate some of the strain on Andrew’s knee.

Andrew began leading the Fitzpatrick family—father, mother, and twin boys—over to the seating area. He reviewed the options for potential backgrounds, props, and embellishments with them on the way. Meanwhile, Edwin hovered by the worktable, his hands hooked behind his back. He was smiling a closed-lip smile, one Andrew recognized as at least a little fake. Overall, though, Edwin’s posture seemed more relaxed than it had been when they’d met with their first two clients earlier that morning. Hopefully that meant Edwin was settling in somewhat.

While Andrew helped the two boys, who couldn’t have been more than eight or nine, come up with a comfortable enough pose on the oversized high-backed chair, Edwin retrieved the bouquet of fabric flowers that Mrs. Fitzpatrick wanted to hold. Her husband spoke up just as Edwin handed them to her.

“I seem to remember from the flyer we saw that your studio offers tintypes, Mr. Thompson,” Mr. Fitzpatrick remarked. “Is that correct?”

“It is,” Andrew replied. “Why? Are you interested in one?”