Rory reached up and touched Arthur’s face. “You woulda lost every penny.”
The sincerity in his eyes, the warmth in his words—Arthur was the one being ruined for anyone else.“It would’ve been worth the trade.”
He fit his knee between Rory’s thighs and heard breath catch.
So, more of that. He slid his knee up another inch, pushing Rory’s legs farther apart, and Rory groaned. “Shoulda known you’d be bossy everywhere,” he said, his surliness gone soft and breathy.
“Problem?” Arthur said, as he lowered himself to let his thigh press against the hard length in Rory’s trousers.
Rory gave a full-body shudder, hands running up Arthur’s biceps, dragging the sleeves of his shirt. He rapidly shook his head. “Boss me all you want, just let me touch you—”
Palms and fingers explored Arthur’s body as they kissed, mapping his arms and his jaw and the muscles of his back. Then across his shoulders and down the fabric covering his chest, over the scars hidden by his shirt, and Arthur tensed before he could stop it.
“Does your psychometry work on people?” he said, pulling back, just managing to keep his voice steady.
“Nah. You might as well be made of lead.” Rory paused, hand on top of Arthur’s heart. “Why? You got a past you don’t want me to see?”
There was new vulnerability in those hypnotizing eyes, and Arthur’s chest wrenched at having put that insecurity on Rory’s face. “Not a lover,” he hastened to say. “The war.” He swallowed. “If I could shield you and your magic from all of history’s horrors, I would.”
Rory’s uncertainty vanished, replaced by surprise and something softer. And then Rory kissed him, hard and sudden, his hand sliding down Arthur’s stomach and right into the waistband of his trousers.
He sucked in a breath. “We can stop anytime,” he said, through clenched teeth. If Rory was going to have second thoughts, it might be now.
“Are you screwy?” Rory’s hand wrapped around him with no hesitation, sending a lightning shock of pleasure through Arthur. “I don’t want tostop. I don’t ever want to stop. I’m gonna steal your pillows so I can relive this moment for the rest of my life.”
Arthur half laughed, half groaned as Rory’s hand moved on him. “The perils of taking a psychometric to bed.”
“Who’s taken me to bed?” Rory said cheekily. “Not you. Not yet. I’m making all the moves.”
“Not for long.” Arthur had thought Rory didn’t need a lover in him. How brilliant to have been wrong.
He dropped his weight down, trapping Rory’s hand between their bodies, and drew a throaty moan from Rory that warmed his blood like forbidden liquor. He rocked their bodies together and Rory made a choked-off gasp, his free hand sliding to Arthur’s back to pull him closer. The friction sent shocks over Arthur’s skin. Christ, he was too old, had done this too much to be panting for it like this.
But his body disagreed as Rory lit his nerves like he’d never been touched. He lost himself in Rory’s responses, how the slide of their bodies made his back arch, how teeth on his neck brought the hand in Arthur’s pants stuttering to a distracted stop.
“You lead, Ace.” Rory was breathing as hard as a runner. “I don’t know what to do, but I want it. Wantyou.” He yanked his hand free and wrapped both arms around Arthur’s neck, pulling Arthur’s full weight on top of him. “I’m so tired of the past,” he whispered against Arthur’s ear. “I’m so here, in this moment, and I want to stay with you.”
“Then I’ll keep you here.” Arthur fit himself fully between Rory’s legs and pressed him into the mattress with the urgency of his kiss. “Claim every inch of you for the present.” The vow spilled out of him against Rory’s mouth, no filter, just the thoughts straight from Arthur’s heart. “I’ll anchor you right down to your bloodstream.”
Rory made a helpless noise, hands scrabbling to hold on to Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur went for the buttons of Rory’s shirt, popping at least one off in his haste to touch skin.
“You’re mine now, Rory—Theodore—and the past can’t have you anymore,” he whispered, and swallowed Rory’s cry with his kiss.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rory woke to Arthur’s bare chest hot at his back, a muscled arm slung over his ribs. Outside Arthur’s bedroom window, the sun’s first rays were reaching across Central Park, the window big enough Rory could see the sky change even without his glasses.
He watched from Arthur’s arms, cozy and spellbound, as the blurry sky became paler and paler gray before the hints of gold began to light the world. He couldn’t remember seeing a sunrise since the night he’d escaped the asylum.
There was a nuzzle against his hair. “You really have the most enchanting smile.”
“Aw, geez.” Rory buried his face in the pillow, his smile even bigger, and got a faint brush of stubble against his neck that made him shiver. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Light sleeper.” Behind him, Arthur yawned. “I don’t mind, I wake early anyway.”
Rory wriggled under the pleasant weight of Arthur’s arm until they were face-to-face. This close, Arthur’s features were in focus, sky-blue eyes under black brows and his chiseled jaw dotted with black.
“Buongiorno, bello,” Rory whispered, and then froze. Was he supposed to have left already?
