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“That’s a rather dreary way to think of it.”
Jonas stiffened, realizing that Dryden had now come so close that he detected a very enticing, masculine scent. Dear God, he was going to faint. He had never smelled anything more intoxicating than cedar and smoke mingled with the natural aroma of Derek Dryden.
“But I do understand,” Dryden continued. “When one is not a first son, as our brothers are, one need not run out and ensnare the first debutante with a decent dowry that crosses his path. We are freer than they are to explore … other pursuits.”
Jonas would very much like to explore the hypnotizing lips of Dryden. Even when he tried his best not to look, Jonas found his gaze straying toward them when Derek spoke, enamored with the way they moved to form words, to smile, to frown.
“That is true enough,” Jonas replied, his voice wavering on nearly every syllable. He held himself perfectly still, certain that if he moved an inch he might fall against Dryden and beg to be kissed.
“But then,” Dryden added, “some pursuits are dangerous. They are enough to see a man like me gaoled or worse, and all because my innate tastes run in a unique direction. It is so stifling, isn’t it; to feel as if one must always wear a mask to hide from the world? To know there must be others in the world like you but suffer too much fear to seek them out, because to find them would entail exposing yourself, likely to disastrous consequences.”
Jonas was fairly certain he had forgotten how to breathe. This could not be happening. He must have fainted in the corridor and hit his head, and now drifted in some hazy world of dreams. Never in his wildest imaginings would he have expected this. Of course, he knew he could not be the only man in this world who lusted after other men. However, if he had ever been asked to choose a man of his acquaintance who might fit the bill, Jonas never would have selected Dryden. Not Dryden, who caught the eye of every woman he strolled passed. Not Dryden, who had been seen in the company of scandalous women such as actresses and opera singers on many occasions. Rumors of his affairs were murmured amongst their peers often, painting a picture of a man who could have any woman he wanted.
“I … I am not certain I know what you mean,” Jonas hedged, uncertain of what else to say.
Was Dryden baiting him? Was he trying to coerce a scandalous confession out of Jonas so he could go tell the other lads that he was a molly? Anger and humiliation rose up in Jonas’ throat to choke him like rancid bile.
Dryden rested a hand lightly on his shoulder and squeezed, just hard enough that Jonas could feel the warmth of it through his coat and shirtsleeves. “I am certain you do. I have watched you closely these past few years, Thacker. We are friends of a sort, but it has always been clear to me that you hide a part of yourself from everyone else. Something mysterious. Something you are ashamed of.”
Jonas squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to wake up, for he was obviously in some hellish nightmare. Dryden’s hold on Jonas’ shoulder tightened and he was turned bodily to face his desire and his fear. The look on Dryden’s face was not one of mocking disgust or castigation. His eyes had lightened to a honeyed shade of brown in the lamplight, and the set of his mouth conveyed empathy and understanding.
Dear God, Derek Dryden was a molly. He had to be. No man had ever touched him this way, even on the shoulder, and one had certainly never looked at him this way. He had certainly caught himself staring at Dryden in such a way on a number of occasions.
“What if I told you that you were not alone in your feelings?” Dryden whispered, leaning so close that the forelock of Jonas’ hair brushed his forehead. “What if I told you that I know exactly how you feel?”
Jonas trembled, unable to tear his gaze away from Dryden’s no matter how hard he tried. They were playing with fire and would surely be consumed by the flames.
“Dryden, don’t,” he warned.
Dryden huffed a soft laugh. “I must. I have waited and wondered for so long. I was never completely certain before, but I am sure now. You do not desire the whores in any of these places for the same reasons I do not. Because you want something else. You wantsomeoneelse.”
Yes,Jonas thought as his blood heated and rushed straight to his groin.You. It has always been you.
“Close your eyes, Jonas.”
Dryden had never called him by his Christian name before. He had always been ‘Thacker’ to every man of his acquaintance. There was something potent about the sound of his name on Dryden’s lips; something so mesmerizing that he complied without a second thought. The weariness weighing Jonas down lifted as he found himself faced with something he had craved for so long. He was helpless to refuse.
"Don’t be afraid,” Dryden whispered just before his lips brushed against Jonas’. “It’s all right.”
With a helpless groan of longing, Jonas surged against Dryden and met the kiss with his own untutored fervor. Cupping his face with both hands, Dryden devoured his mouth.
Derek glancedup from his cards just as Jonas stormed through the entrance of Perdition, unable to help the triumphant grin that spread across his face at the sight. Only three days had passed since his former lover had come here to confront him, and Derek had expected to wait much longer for another encounter.
“That must be a devil of a hand,” one of his companions remarked. “I do not suppose it is too late for me to retract my bet.”
“Not a chance,” Derek muttered, though his attention was no longer on the game.
He watched as Jonas prowled the club, having not yet lain eyes on him. The man was simply gorgeous, all broad proportions and tapered lines; so much bulk trapped beneath the finery of a gentleman. Derek remembered well the feel of that body against his, hard yet somehow yielding. A giant Jonas might be, but he was a gentle one, as pure and sweet as anything he had ever tasted. And Derek had tasted enough men to know that no one else compared.
He had called upon Julia this afternoon, hoping to catch a glimpse of her brother, but had been informed that Jonas was out for a morning ride. Julia had told Derek of Jonas’ disapproval of their assumed union and the two of them had laughed about it over tea. Derek had always liked Jonas’ sister, who was as smart and witty as she was beautiful. Despite not desiring her in the slightest, Derek found her to be an engaging companion and considered her a friend. If he had not already decided that he had no intention of marrying her or anyone else, Derek might have truly considered Julia for a wife. However, he had drank once from the cup of love and knew that nothing could ever quench his thirst quite like Jonas. Knowing what was possible, he could not bring himself to wed for the sake of appearances like so many other gentlemen like him.
Derek would much rather have Julia as a sister, and Jonas as the person he spent the rest of his life with. But first, he had to win this little game they were playing, and it had only just begun.
Derek threw down his cards and rose without waiting to see who laid down the winning hand. His cards had been abysmal, so it certainly would not be him. He found Jonas near an alcove that offered darkness and the cover of a velvet curtain. Derek descended on him like a shadow, catching Jonas by surprise when he took him by the arm and propelled him into the narrow, dark niche.
Jonas stiffened and tried to jostle Derek off, but calmed when the dim lighting of the club filtered between the curtains to reveal him.
“Back so soon?” Derek teased. “You really did miss me.”
