Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 2

work to keep Connor distracted until then, and it's not until the office starts to empty around him that Connor realizes how late it is. Just past five.
    He tucks his laptop under his arm and brings it and the drawings up to Rafe's office. Rafe gestures to the table by the window when he comes in, finishes typing up whatever he's working on, and then brings his own laptop over to sit across from him.
    "How many do we have left?" Rafe asks, sifting through the drawings Connor placed in the middle of the table.
    "Just a few." Connor finds the unfinished ones and hands them to Rafe, who takes half and gives the rest back to Connor.
    The office grows quiet around them. Behind the windows the light fades and shifts into dusk, and the motion-sensor lights in the hall outside go off. There's something kind of nice about working in the cocoon of Rafe's office, the silence easy between them.
    Connor feels eyes on him, and he looks up to find Rafe watching him. He catches a hint of something— he can't read it, not entirely, but it's unexpectedly intense. Rafe seems to realize he's staring and clears his throat.
    "Can I see what you've done so far?"
    Connor turns his laptop to the side. Rafe slides his chair closer to look. Only a few inches separate them as Rafe clicks through the models. Connor can feel Rafe's body heat burn across his shoulder and arm.
    "They look good," Rafe says to Connor's relief. He hasn't had that much experience with this type of work outside of his college courses. Rafe pauses on one. "Is this based on the drawing?"
    Connor peers over to see which one he's talking about. Oh. "The measurements didn't match the house plans, so I... improvised a little. It's just that one corner."
    Rafe frowns, but it isn't a pissed-off frown. More a look of contemplation. "Did you consider changing this side instead?"
    "You'd run up against the plumbing."
    Rafe nods. "Good memory. Let's go with this, then. Thanks for catching the error."
    He rests his hand on Connor's shoulder and squeezes, and then seems to realize what he'd done. "Sorry," he says, taking his hand away.
    "You don't have to be sorry." An awkward pause follows. Connor stares at his laptop screen. He can still feel the warmth of Rafe's hand. It's none of his business but he can't help ask, "How was your trip?"
    Rafe gives him an odd look but says, " More successful than I expected. A few years ago, Julian and I bought a place together in New York. An interested buyer contacted him, so we went up to meet with her."
    "Are you back together?"
    "With Julian? God, no. Is that what you thought?"
    Connor's not sure what he thought. He stares at his laptop, at Rafe's hand resting next it.
    "Connor." Something in Rafe's voice has him turning to look at him. Rafe's neck above his shirt collar is flushed . "I know there's nothing about this that's appropriate. So if you want to take on a different project, I understand. I can talk to Frank, get you some work on one of his."
    "Wait, what?" Connor sits up, feeling like he's missed something.
    "And I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable. I—" Rafe runs a hand over his head. To Connor's shock, his eyes are full of doubt.
    That's not what Connor wants to see there. He doesn't know what Rafe means by this , but it's not how he wants it to end.
    He gets a glimpse of Rafe's eyes widening just before he kisses him. For a second it feels like the most disastrous move ever. Humiliation creeps up his neck. Then Rafe's hand is there instead, bringing him in closer, t he kiss deepening for an exquisite moment before Rafe pulls back.
    "Okay," Rafe says. His lips are flushed where Connor kissed them. "I think we heard completely different things back there."
    "I'm not a kid," Connor says. He's not sure where that came from, but it feels vitally necessary that Rafe understand it.
    Rafe's silent a moment. "No, you're not. But you still work for a firm I partly own."
    "I can make my own choices."
    "Of course you can," Rafe says. He rubs the back of his neck, his face a mix of uncertainty and what might even be hope. "I'm not exactly a catch, you know. Ask Julian."
    Connor doesn't want to ask Julian anything, least of all that. What he wants is to kiss Rafe again, with a need so immediate it's a little terrifying. He leans forward to close the gap, lips bumping up against Rafe's awkwardly until Rafe tilts his mouth and the angle is right. Part of him is aware that they're doing this in an office in full view of the city, but the