“No.” Rasul was emphatic. “I want you to love it. I want it to burn you inside like it does me. I want you to feel in your bones that this was written precisely for you, because it was. It is.”
Forget warm, Jacob was steaming. He fanned his face. “Um, wow.”
“Not a joke, Jacob. There’s so much of me in this book. So much of us. Not just our relationship, but us individually. I can’t wait for you to see it. I want you to read Milo and not only recognize yourself but feel empowered. I want you to see parts of yourself you didn’t know you had. I want you to find the ones you forgot.”
Jacob couldn’t have been more affected by Rasul’s words even if he’d said them at the nape of his neck. The image made Jacob’s knees wobble, and he went back to the sink, trying again for a glass of water. “Nobody I’ve ever met is as passionate as you. Nobody’s ever been able to make me feel passion the way you do. You undo me in ways I didn’t even know to plan to guard against.”
There was a pause, and it went on long enough Jacob stopped with the glass of water halfway to his mouth.
“Rasul?” he said, suddenly worried.
Now Rasul sounded ragged. “Um, well.” His voice cracked. “So, I was about to walk up your stairs, but now I’m trying to decide if that’s a good idea.”
The glass clanged in the sink as Jacob rushed across the living room, heart pounding, and unlocked the door.
At the bottom of the stairs was Rasul, standing in the fresh dusting of snow, wearing his brand-new bobble hat from the bazaar, phone to his ear as he gazed up at Jacob.
Jacob lowered his own phone, Air Supply blasting in his head.
“Come up,” he told Rasul. “It’s too cold to stand down there.”
Rasul didn’t move except to hang up his phone and put it in his pocket. “If I come up there, we both know what’s going to happen.”
Yes, Jacob absolutely did. “The first time is still inside the veil of stars.”
God, but he loved the slowly dawning look of mischief on Rasul’s face. “But there’s a whole lot of other stuff we can do inside your apartment?”
Jacob motioned to him impatiently. “It’s freezing, and I don’t even have socks on.”
“Then I’d better come warm you up.”
They started kissing as soon as the door closed, Jacob cradling Rasul’s head and holding his own lower body back while Rasul stepped out of his boots and tossed his coat aside. Then he pulled Jacob against him and went at him with a hunger that spun Jacob’s head into the night sky.
“I’m so crazy about you.” Rasul kissed his way along Jacob’s jaw, threading his fingers into Jacob’s hair. “You have no idea how much I want you. Let me show you.” He nipped at Jacob’s chin. “In fact, let’s get in your car and go back to my place.”
Jacob laughed and kissed him back, lingering. “You said it was good for your book to wait.”
“I’m ridiculous. I don’t know what I’m talking about.” He ground a thick erection against Jacob’s matching one. “I want to make love to you for six days. A month. A year. Ten years.”
Jacob kissed him, long and slow, cooing into Rasul’s mouth as cold hands slid beneath his waistband and cupped his ass. But when those hands slid to his hips and started to tug his pants down, Jacob pulled away and took Rasul’s face in his hands.
“Look me in the eye and tell me this isn’t going to break your spell.”
Rasul did look him in the eye, so intently Jacob would have said yes to doing him on the stage at Founder’s Day. Then Rasul sighed, shut his eyes, and sagged. “I can’t do it. It sounds absolutely ridiculous and I want desperately to say it won’t matter, but….”
Jacob kissed his hairline. “I can wait.”
“I’m not sure I can.” But he took a step back, clearly resigning himself. “I want to know if you have any other nightmares. I’ll buzz over and kiss them away.”
Jacob nodded, heart fluttering happily. “I promise I’ll tell you.”
“Also, I feel silly for asking so late, and I’m sure you already have plans, but what are you doing for Thanksgiving? Christmas?”
“If you’re offering to cook for me, I’m coming to your place.”
“Mmm, no, let’s do it here. You don’t have plans?”
Jacob made a mental note to call up Gus and Matt to cancel. “No plans.”
“Christmas either?”
Gina would understand. “Nope, nothing.”
Rasul raised his eyebrow, but he grinned. “You’re telling me stories, but I suppose turnabout’s fair play.”
Jacob tweaked his nose. “Go home and get some sleep.”
“Screw that, I’m making coffee and starting another chapter.”
Jacob waved him away, then leaned against the door after he’d locked it, smiling like a giddy schoolboy for several minutes.
When he went back to sleep, he dreamed again. But this time, when Rasul asked him to dance, Jacob stepped out boldly into his arms.
Chapter Eleven
RASUL DID well until Elizabeth told him he had a publication date.
“You told me we’d set one when I finished,” he protested, fighting a sudden rush of bile in his throat.
“You said you were practically finished. I’ve stayed in contact with your publisher, and they let me know when there are gaps you could fill and still get decent press. There’s one coming up now. It’ll mean a rush editing job, and they’ll be squeaking and calling in favors to get it to reviewers on time, but they’re counting on the fact that everyone and their pet rock wants to read this. So your turn-in date is January 15. They wanted January 1, but I talked them into midmonth.”
No question, Rasul was going to throw up after this phone call. “It’s December 10.”
“So you’ve got a month and five days. You can do it.”
“You want me to finish drafting, revise, everything in a month?”
“I do. Don’t let this panic you. You can do this. You’re doing this. Everyone is so impressed, Rasul. In fact, I’m mailing you your phone back.”
“Don’t.” Rasul shuddered. “Not until I turn the book in. The due date is bad enough. The phone would ruin everything.”
Elizabeth whistled low. “You’ve really changed. All right, no phone until I get a manuscript.”
Rasul leaned his forehead against his kitchen wall. “What happens if I miss the deadline?”
“We’re not going to think about that.”
He let out a breath. “Anything from Adina?”
“We’re not discussing that.”
“Elizabeth.”
“There’s nothing you need to know. Do not let your head go there. Protect this book at all costs.”
He did his best. He kept his head down, did his work, taught his class. His students, always in tune with his emotions, picked up on his tension. Meg, as usual, was the first one to speak up. “Professor Youssef? Are you all right? You look upset.”
Four months ago he’d have lied, smiled, and given a breezy dismissal. He didn’t have it in him today. “Just got some news that shook me a bit, is all.”