Page 54 of Thief Taker

Duvall made a soft sound, almost a laugh, and for a moment there was nothing but silence between them. Then the churches started striking five, a cacophonous tolling. In a rush, Duvall pushed himself away from the door and fumbled it open. “I wish you a good morning, Cole.”

And with that, he fled.

Chapter 19

By the time Kit reached the study he was shaking so hard he could hardly light the candle on the desk. There was no fire and the room was cold, but the chill did nothing to cool his fevered skin or soothe his thwarted desire.

Mother of God, but his vision was full of Elias Cole standing half naked in his room. All beautiful, affronted eyes and a body to make the Greeks weep. Kit might have thought it a deliberate ploy, had he not barged in on the man unawares.

Even the memory made him feel weak. He had to brace himself with both hands against the desk as he drew in an unsteady breath.

He hardly knew how he’d left Cole’s room without making a bloody fool of himself. But ending this charade had been the right thing to do. How could he continue with the pretence after tonight? His mind was spinning. Bad enough to find himself wrestling with Cole in St. Giles, then aiming a damned pistol at his head. But for Cole to then appear, as if out of nowhere, to save him from his foolish, drunken railing at Marlborough… It was too much.

He was losing hold of the situation. It had to end before—

Someone threw open the study door.

Startled, Kit spun around to find Cole standing in the doorway. He’d done no more than fling on a shirt that fell loose over his damp skin, gaping wide at the neck, and he fixed Kit with a heated look. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling fast. “I listened to what you said.” His voice was low, a growl. “And—I beg pardon—but it’s bollocks.”

“Cole—”

Ignoring him, Cole closed the study door, turning the key in the lock with deliberate intent. A shiver ran across Kit’s skin and stirred the hair at the nape of his neck, his blood burning.

Keeping one hand flat on the door, Cole said, “I was wrong last night. I thought we could just ignore this and carry on like it wasn’t there, but—look, I reckon we’ve got two choices.” He turned around and advanced a step. Kit didn’t back up; he couldn’t, he was already pressed against the edge of the desk. “We either go our separate ways right now—tonight—or we get the need for this out of our blood. And then see where we are.”

The air caught in Kit’s throat. “That’s—Someone else made a similar suggestion today.”

“Did they?” Cole drew closer. “And what did you say?” He moved like the hunter he was, all predatory grace, and Kit hardened to the point of discomfort. The need to touch Cole was irresistible, depriving him of rational thought.

Turning around, trying to marshal his scattering wits, Kit flattened his hands on the desk and sucked in a few shallow breaths. Part of him didn’t want to just ‘tup’; part of him wanted more. But what part of him was that?

The part stripped raw by his brother’s betrayal and the imminent collapse of his world?

The part made tender by a few kind words and gentle touches from a man he scarcely knew? A man who may yet betray him to the gallows.

Or the part so addled by desire that he could overlook who Cole was—who he was—and how this would inevitably end.

Cole touched him. He ran his fingertips down the length of Kit’s spine, making him shiver. “What did you say?”

He swallowed. “Something foolish, I imagine.”

“It’s just a tumble,” Cole said roughly, and moved his hand to grasp Kit’s hip. “Just a shared pleasure, no more than that. No obligations.” He pressed forward, his cockstand shockingly hard against Kit’s arse. “Just the relief of mutual want.”

Kit’s eyes fluttered closed. He stifled a groan at the feel of Cole’s warmth, at the scent of cheap pearl ash soap on his skin and the strength of his body. Just as he’d felt it in St. Giles, and in Green Park. He swallowed, breathless with desire and struggling to form coherent words. “How can we?” He sucked in a breath as Cole gently thrust against him. “How can we, given who we are?”

Cole stilled; Kit’s eyes flew open in dismay.

That was a mistake.

“And who are we?” Cole said mildly, although he was fully alert now. His body pressed against Kit’s felt taut, ready to move.

Shit.

Thinking fast, Kit said, “You’re my valet and I’m your master.” He gazed down at his hands braced against the dark mahogany of his father’s desk. “I’ve seen masters who—” He shook his head, dispelling the grotesque memory. “No master should impose himself on any person over whom he has power. It’s…abhorrent.”

After a silent pause, Cole relaxed, his fingers softening against Kit’s hip. And then sliding around to cup Kit’s aching cock. “Trust me,” he said. “You ain’t the one with the power in this situation.”

There was something heated in his voice that made Kit’s scalp prickle. Part with fear, but a greater part with a blinding need. Helpless he rocked forward, groaning in relief when Cole’s fingers tightened around him.