AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Mr. Thacker,” he began, bracing his hands upon his slender hips. “I have been in this profession for quite some time. As such, I’ve become adept at reading people, discerning their thoughts, their needs … their desires.”
Jonas found he could not look the other man in the eye at the mention ofdesires. Was he so transparent?
“Don’t worry,” Giles said quickly. “Like recognizes like, is all. I doubt anyone else can tell that you are a sodomite.”
Jonas’ chair scraped the floorboards when he shot to his feet, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Enough.”
When Giles smiled this time, it was tight with sadness and … was that pity? “Derek was right about you, poor thing. You still have not accepted it. I suppose I understand. Men of your status have family names and such to think of after all. Still, how miserable it must be to deny one’s true self. I pity you, Mr. Thacker, and I mean that in the sincerest manner.”
Jonas’ anger dissipated as quickly as it had overcome him, and he could only stand silently and watch Giles make a graceful exit, the hem of the toga fluttering about his thighs. Sinking back into his chair, Jonas stared into the hearth. The room around him blurred away and he was left alone with his thoughts and Giles’ pity. There was a bit of his own self-pity involved, as well, for he could not help but wish he had been born a different person. How different might life be if he were like the other men he had attended university with?
However, there could be no changing who or what he was. Jonas knew this because he had tried his damnedest. So, his only option was to escape London and Derek, and put the past behind him. While he certainly could not control what titillated his senses, he could avoid the one person who had the power to send him over the edge of his restraint.
As if Jonas’ thoughts had conjured him, Derek appeared in the doorway of the bedchamber. He was stripped to his waistcoat and shirtsleeves, which were rolled up to his elbows to expose his dark, taut forearms. The tension winding through Jonas’ gut pulled tighter, sending pangs of resounding need straight to his groin. A matching sensation tightened in his chest until Jonas felt he could hardly breathe.
“You came,” Derek said, revealing that he clutched a deck of cards in one hand.
“I said I would,” Jonas snapped, his encounter with Giles leaving him on edge.
Furrowing his brow, Derek leaned toward him. “Are you all right, Jonas? You seem bleaker than usual.”
Jonas slapped his hand against the table, rattling the kerosene lamp casting its yellow light over them. “Just tell me what game we are playing and deal the bloody cards.”
Derek blinked, seeming taken aback by Jonas’ outburst. However, he said nothing of the display of temper and began shuffling the cards. “My pleasure. Tonight’s game is piquet.”
Derek grinned,staring down at his winning hand. Upon coming to the room, he had noticed Jonas’ distraction. Whatever was on his mind, it had reduced him to grunting in response to Derek’s attempts at conversation and avoiding eye contact. At first, this had seemed like a boon in Derek’s favor. If Jonas was too distracted to play his best, Derek might easily win. However, Derek had been mistaken on that front. He had been lucky enough to draw the higher card after dealing and cutting, making him the dealer for the first partie. His hand had been decent enough for him to emerge victorious in the first partie with a sequence of five clubs which had included the ace. However, Jonas had fought back in the second partie, tempering Derek’s arrogance. It was clear that Jonas would not surrender easily. After a sound defeat in the second bout, Derek had fixed his concentration on every turn of the card. He could not stomach losing now, with one final game left to play.
Derek could not stop recalling last night’s kiss, which made it damned difficult to concentrate. Jonas had kissed him last night as if he were starved of air, as if he had not kissed anyone in seven long years. As if tasting Derek’s lips had awakened some hunger within him that could only be slaked one way. If he lingered on the memory long enough, Derek could feel the pressure of Jonas’ mouth on his and the whisper of his velvet tongue. More than that, he could feel every ounce of Jonas’ desire and inner turmoil. A kiss was never just a kiss for Jonas; it was a commitment of the body and the soul, an expression of his innermost needs and desires.
If he could only break through Jonas’ defenses, Derek might discover what had sent Jonas running away from him all those years ago. It was clear that life had not been easy for either of them since that time. There must be some way forward for them. Some way devoid of the aching loneliness that had characterized their lives for so long.
Jonas stared at the cards laid on the table between them. His eyes shifted from his own cards to Derek’s and then back again, as if confirming that the battle had indeed been lost. Instead of gloating, Derek sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Jonas to speak, to move, to do something … anything. With a resigned sigh, Jonas pushed his cards toward the center of the table. He seemed unable to look at Derek at first, but eventually lifted his gaze.
“Right,” he mumbled. “It would seem you have bested me again. Well met.” When Derek did not reply, Jonas furrowed his eyebrows. “Well? Aren’t you going to gloat? You seemed rather pleased with yourself to have won the favors of an unwilling partner last night.”
Now, Derek found it impossible to conceal his amusement. “Unwilling?”
“I certainly would not grant you any favors of my own volition.”
“Wouldn’t you?” Derek challenged with a raised eyebrow. “Last night’s kiss did not require participation, only compliance.”
“I did not—”
“You certainly did,” Derek teased. “I have not been kissed so well in a very long time.”
“I find that surprising considering your penchant for consorting with molly whores.”
Derek stood and approached the cabinet where Giles stored his claret. “For someone who wishes to be done with me as soon as possible, you seem inordinately concerned with the company I keep.”
He could feel Jonas’ eyes on him while he splashed the claret into two clean tumblers. Derek drained one of them in a single gulp before refilling it, then took the other to the table for Jonas.
“Not concerned,” Jonas argued. “Merely baffled. I thought you had higher standards.”
Derek took a slow sip this time, the first snifter already working its effects. The edge to his nerves had blunted, and the warmth in his belly began to spread outward. Jonas slouched in his chair, the cut crystal glass appearing delicate and fragile in his big, strong hand.
“You misunderstand me,” Derek replied. He leaned down to grasp the arms of Jonas’ chair, boxing him in. “When it comes to certain intimacies, my standards are quite high. For example, when I said I hadn’t been kissed so well in a long time, what I should have said was that I have not been kissed at all. Not since the last time I tasted your lips.”
Jonas stiffened but did not attempt to place any distance between then. His gaze did not meet Derek’s, his eyes fixed on some point across the room. Derek’s lips grazed his forehead in the lightest of kisses, and Jonas drew in a soft, swift breath as if caught off guard.
