Page 4 of Pages of My Heart
“What church do you go to?”
“You ask a lot of questions, Red.” Charlie gives him an appraising look before continuing. “Family belongs to the Protestant church over on 12th Street, but we don’t go too often. My old man doesn’t like it.” He hums, mouth quirking into a teasing smile. “Bet you’re a good Catholic boy.”
“Bridget makes us go, but I try to get out of it if I can.” Thomas hesitates, then asks, “You believe what it says in the Bible about . . . about people like us?”
Charlie frowns, then tilts his head up to the stars. “That we’re sinners? That we’re going to hell?”
“Well, yes. The Bible says . . .” Thomas stops when Charlie turns his gaze on him, eyes darkening with anger.
“Go on, then, what does the Bible say?”
Thomas takes a deep breath, ignoring Charlie’s simmering resentment, then recites from memory. “Leviticus, chapter twenty, verse thirteen: ‘If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination and shall be put to death.’”
Charlie nods, then picks up a loose stone from the dock and tosses it into the water, his anger seeming to sink with the stone. “I told you, Red. I got me a girl, so I don’t think too much about that shit. Come on, let’skeep walking.”
He stands, and Thomas scrambles to follow.
They haven’t gone far when Thomas bumps his shoulder against Charlie’s, shocked at his own brazenness. Soon, Charlie’s hand is brushing his own, their palms aligning, then their fingers entwining. Thomas holds his breath. Their pace slows to a leisurely stroll, like lovers on a warm summer’s night. Thomas likes the heat of Charlie’s hand in his, but he worries he’s perspiring and Charlie will let go. Even more than that, he fears they will be seen by someone. He checks over his shoulder before speaking again.
“So where do you work?”
Charlie gives him a look, like he wants to rib him some more about all of the questions, but he must see something earnest in Thomas’s face because he starts talking a moment later.
“Up at Jimmy’s Garage on the North Side. I’m lucky to have the job, truth be told. My uncle set me up when I was fourteen. We all needed to work, ya know? At first, I was just the kid that cleaned up and did all the chores none of the old timers wanted to do. But the last few years I’ve been working on the cars. Learning how to fix ’em up.”
“I’ve been lucky too. Bridget had this job at a factory—that’s where she met Eddie. His parents own the place, and the whole family is stinking rich. They didn’t lose all their money in the crash like most people. So, we’ve been doing all right since Bridge and Eddie got hitched. Eddie’s parents weren’t too keen about their son marrying down like he did but we got to move from the South Side to the North Side. It meant Michael and I got to stay in school, and now I have a scholarship at Wilson Junior College. I’m going to be a teacher, then a headmaster. Maybe even a college professor one day. I like English literature and history the most but...”
Thomas trails off, suddenly feeling all kinds of stupid. Charlie has had to work since he was fourteen, and here he is prattling on about his favorite school subjects like a dumb kid.
“You sure talk a lot, Thomas O’Reilly.”
Thomas stops walking and turns to face him. “I’m sorry. I’ll try not to.”
“Nah, I like it. And I’m glad you get to study. I can read and write well enough, but I don’t know much about literature.” Charlie drops Thomas’s hand and takes a step back. “Maybe you’re too smart for the likes of me, Red.”
Thomas quickly closes the distance between them and reaches for both of Charlie’s hands this time. “I’m not. I promise. I think you could teach me about . . . about . . . lots of things.”
Charlie’s body seems to soften. His gaze drifts down Thomas’s body, then his eyes lift, looking up through lush, dark lashes. “And what do you want to learn, Thomas?”
Thomas is sure it’s the first time Charlie has said his name like that—soft and affectionate. It’s like hearing his name said for the very first time, so different it sounds coming from Charlie’s lips. The tension, the heat—just like on the dance floor—is building again.
Thomas swallows nervously. “You know what I want to learn. What I want to know.”
Charlie’s gaze flickers between Thomas’s eyes and his mouth, and he’s sure it’s a sign that Charlie wants to kiss him just as much as he wants to kiss Charlie. He tugs on Charlie’s hands, pulling him closer, leaning in, the anticipation and fear turning his muscles to mush. The moment lengthens into eternity, and Thomas is about to pull away like a coward when Charlie surges up and connects their lips. The softness and the warmth surprise him. Perhaps he thought a man’s lips would be hard or rough, but they’re anything but.
Charlie moves his mouth against his, and Thomas moans, something akin to a pitiful sigh, and then Charlie’s tongue swipes across his lips and Thomas’s body erupts with a searing heat. Without a second thought, he opens his mouth and connects their tongues, melting with desire and need. Pulling Charlie’s body flush against his, he kisses him desperately, wanting to be impossibly closer. Charlie’s hands caress up and down his back, and lustful groans pour into his mouth. It’s Fourth of July fireworks and all his birthdays and Christmases come at once.
Kissing Charlie Miller is everything.
Feeling brave, Thomas mimics what he saw that man do at the club and lowers one hand to Charlie’s ass, pulling their hips together. Still they kiss. The increasing firmness of Charlie’s arousal is pressing against his thigh, his own pushing into Charlie’s stomach. And Thomaswants.
When Charlie drags his lips down Thomas’s jaw and lays kisses upon the column of his throat, his knees buckle and his legs shake. On instinct, his hand finds its way to Charlie’s groin, feeling Charlie’s thick shaft through his trousers.
“Oh, Charlie,” he sighs, as he tries to stroke him through the fabric. When Charlie suddenly breaks away, it leaves him panting and disoriented. “Did I do something wrong?” Thomas asks, voice pitched high.
“No. Christ, no. You did everything right. Just . . . I think we should stop.” Charlie’s face is flushed a deep rose color, breaths tumbling raggedly from his parted lips. The evidence of their lust is clearly defined through their trousers.
Thomas takes a half step forward and tries to hide his hurt when Charlie moves further out of his reach.
