Page 88 of Thief Taker

“Kit,” Elias breathed, feeling his own climax building, pressing hard against the perfect hollow of Kit’s hip, mesmerised by his parted lips, by the dark flush on his fine cheekbones, the sweat-damp chaos of his hair. “Jesus,” he hissed, something tender unfolding in his chest alongside the building ecstasy: something inexorable and overwhelming. “Kit…” He hardly recognised his own voice, torn ragged as his body tightened. “Christ!” And then it was roaring through him, wringing him out, and leaving him weak and gasping in Kit’s arms as his body shook with the joy of release. “God,” Elias gasped against his shoulder, half laughter, half something more. “God, Kit, that was…”

He had no words; none he dared to voice.

But it didn’t matter. Kit was dropping kisses into his hair, against his ear, holding him tight as he stroked his back. “I know,” he murmured. “I know.”

It was perfect. It was the most perfect moment of his life.

And it was still impossible.

Chapter 31

Kit didn’t want to move. He wanted to stay exactly where he was forever, with Elias dozing beside him, one arm draped across his waist and his breath warm against his shoulder. Kit shifted a little and smiled as Elias’s hair brushed against his cheek. He didn’t want the world to keep turning or the dawn to come. If he could, he’d have lived in this moment forever.

But the world would encroach. The cloud his brother had cast over them still hung above his head, and his sister and father had still to be told the news. He took a breath, buried his face into Elias’s hair and forced the rising panic aside.

The game was not yet over. He knew what must be done.

From the other side of the door came the sound of passing footsteps. A maid, perhaps, or a footman going about their business before finally retiring. There was a houseful of staff outside and it reminded him that his life was not his own. Not here. Even with the world coming down around his ears, he must be discreet. He sighed, feeling it down to his bones, and murmured Elias’s name.

A grunt came back to him, the sleepy press of lips against his shoulder.

“We should get up. Cook’s expecting you to ring for supper.”

“Mmm,” Elias said and stretched, cat-like, for a moment.

Kit’s heart caught and he rolled over to press a kiss against that pale chest. Elias yawned and pushed his hands into Kit’s hair—he liked Kit’s hair—and said, “I’ll ring and ask for extra. I’m famished.”

It was an excellent idea. They both dressed and Elias rang for a footman. He ordered an ewer of hot water along with the supper, and Kit tried not to reveal too much as Elias supervised the weary footmen delivering the tray and taking the water into his dressing room.

“That will be all,” Elias said once everything was settled. “I’ll manage anything else Mr. Duvall needs tonight. Get to your beds, now. It’s late.”

The footmen left, grateful, and Elias closed the door. After their footsteps had receded, he quietly locked it. Discreet, but Kit wondered whether the footmen had guessed anyway. Perhaps the servants could see the truth written on his skin. How could they not? He’d been marked by Elias tonight. The connection they’d shared was unique; he’d never felt anything like it.

So, no, it wouldn’t surprise him if the servants had guessed. The question was whether it mattered; all the staff would soon be gone. And so would he, so would Elias.

But not now. Not yet.

When Elias turned from the door, they spent a long moment just looking at each other. And then Elias held out a hand and said, “Come here.”

Kit obeyed. He found he couldn’t do otherwise.

Taking his hand, Elias pulled him into his arms and held him there. “Wash first, then eat?”

“I’ll scrub your back,” Kit said and lifted his hands to Elias’s neckcloth, enjoying the strange reversal as he carefully undressed him.

Once Elias was bare, he fixed narrowed eyes on Kit. “You’re still in your dressing gown.”

“I want you to wash first.” He slid a hand over Elias’s broad back, marked now by the tracks of his nails. He ran his fingertips along them and thrilled when Elias shivered. “Don’t let the water get cold,” Kit said, pushing him gently towards the basin.

Elias threw him a smile. “Right then,” he said, and took up the cake of Windsor soap, making a rich lather between his hands. He grinned as he began to wash. “I’ll smell like you, now.”

The very idea made Kit’s heart skip. Smiling too, he picked up a flannel and dipped it in the soapy water. “Lean forward,” he said, and with slow deliberate strokes began to work the flannel over Elias’s back, shoulders, and sides. Mesmerising rivulets of water trickled down between his shoulder blades, and Kit followed their path with his fingertips. “I love your back,” he murmured.

Head down, elbows braced on the rim of the basin, Elias made a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh.

Kit pressed his lips to the back of his neck in reply, the skin there warm and damp. Elias sank his head lower, fingers curling in the water.

“God, I wish—” he sighed.