Page 43 of Checking Out the Librarian

Jonathan wished he’d opted for a dramatic entrance, a raised arm along the door frame or a hand cocked on his hip, because the way Connor’s expression sharpened on him wiped away every single idea of what he should do with his hands. There must be a thousand options between lurk awkwardly and advance closer, but they vanished under Connor’s stare.

“That’s mine?”

“You said I could ransack your closet.” Of course he’d misjudged. He raised his hand to the highest of the three buttons he’d fastened.

“Come here.” Connor’s voice was low and thick.

Ah. Connor was not unhappy. “But you’re cooking.”

The click of the burner turning off sounded very loud. “Not anymore.”

Jonathan eyed the food. “I am on board with kink and food play, but I’ll need a ruffled apron if we’re doing this in front of French toast.”

“I’ll give you the next batch. I’ll eat the cold ones.” Connor’s voice had firmed into a command. “Now come here. Please.”

Jonathan shivered. For the first time in a long time, he followed someone else’s orders.

11

MORE, PLEASE

Jonathan listened to him, a miracle that set off a buzz in Connor’s head as he watched Jonathan weave around the table and chairs to cross the kitchen.

His white shirt reached mid-thigh on Jonathan, and its tails fluttered with each step, revealing smooth and sleekly muscled legs. His lips were rosy from last night’s attention, and his expression had the combination of intensity and annoyance that Connor had previously associated with television dukes, and now with hot sex and Jonathan. Or more accurately, hot sex with Jonathan.

Connor assumed the small cowlick in the front where the sweep of dark hair parted to frame his face was a further entry on the list of irritations plaguing Jonathan, who had not hidden his need for more and better skin care products when he’d surveyed Connor’s bathroom counter.

All of this made Connor want him more.

He stopped an arm’s length away.

The silence stretched between them while Jonathan’s eyes narrowed and his lips drew inward, setting off a flare low in Connor’s belly.

There it was.

He needed that look, combined with the flush on Jonathan’s cheekbones and the shifting of the other man’s shoulders. He needed to be the cause of it, so that he could also be the solution. He reached out blindly for a drying towel and dropped it to the floor. It wasn’t a pillow, but the thin cotton cloth would at least keep him from sticking to the tile.

Then he folded to his knees.

If only Jonathan had breeches and boots, this moment would be his purest fantasy, served like after-dinner port in a drawing room. He wasn’t complaining about Jonathan’s bare legs in front of him, the shirt billowing around his chest and concealing his lean thighs, absolutely not complaining about this fuckdream, but removing boots and then peeling down tight breeches would be next level.

Even the current level, with Jonathan, all messy hair and disarray, standing over him, was going to give him a heart attack.

Connor ran his palms up the sides of Jonathan’s smooth calves and let his fingers curl around the backs. The prickle of faint stubble hinted of hidden things that waited to be felt, but couldn’t be seen, and he wondered whether Jonathan shaved or waxed his legs. His palms glided up and down, letting the texture be his map.

He could be Jonathan’s manservant, helping him step into a hot bath, then kneeling next to the side with a razor in his hand.

Jonathan threaded his fingers through Connor’s hair and tilted his head back. “Do we need to find a condom?”

“I don’t.” Connor couldn’t believe he hadn’t already collapsed from the sensation of Jonathan’s hands controlling his motions and directing where he looked. Or from the scent of last night’s sex and sweat that enveloped them, mixed with the vanilla and sizzling butter from cooking.

It didn’t feel like an exaggeration to say he was hungry for everything about this man, but also, he felt settled here at Jonathan’s feet. Some part of him believed the feeling would last, and he would finally have a person who wanted him for himself.

“Are you sure?” He pulled Connor’s hair to keep their gazes locked, and Connor knew he was tenting his shorts, but Jonathan hadn’t released him. “Be certain before we go further.”

He nodded, but Jonathan’s grip created a delicious tension when he tried to lower his chin.

More, please. “I’m certain.”