Aside from his grumpiness, by which Sam knew he was being childish, he had been waiting for the ax to fall. Where was Evers? Sam had expected the man to lash out in some way or to at least inform Flor of Sam’s refusal and thereby turn her against him. Instead, it appeared as if Evers had simply vanished, and Flor made no indication of having had word from him. Flor appeared distracted and melancholy, and Sam attributed it to Evers’s sudden abandonment.
In truth, he considered the situation a victory and pushed it aside as other concerns occupied his mind. Namely, how to be alone with John now that Lily’s house was no longer available. He believed he had the perfect solution and spent the few days after the ball running his poor secretary mad with preparations. When his secretary told him, with a martyred sigh, that everything he had ordered was done, Sam nearly shook his anticipation.
“And
where
are we going?” John repeated after Sam deflected the question for a second time.
They were seated in a hackney cab, the interior musty from a day of rain and countless muddy feet. The sun had set less than a hour earlier as they passed through Mayfair and into one of the solid merchant-class neighborhoods where homes and shops made neighbors of one another. They were almost there.
“We’re going to look at one of my properties.”
John made a face. “At this hour? Is there some problem with it?”
“There should be no problem with it at all, if my secretary is to believed,” Sam said, smirking a little. He was nervous, but not enough to miss out on a little teasing.
“I see.” John crossed his arms over his chest. “Since you’re obviously enjoying this, I’m not going to say another word.”
“Suit yourself.” Sam bounced in his seat like a child.
A few minutes later, the cab came to a halt, and they stepped out. The building was as Sam vaguely remembered it. A narrow, three-story gray stone with a shop on the ground floor. The store front boasted double bay windows of wavy glass and wrought iron. Even in the dark, it was clear that the place was vacant.
“Follow me,” Sam said and led the way down the narrow space at the side of the building. It was so narrow two men could hardly walk abreast. It was near pitch-black, and Sam cursed himself for not having remembered some sort of light, but they had only a few yards to walk before they reached the side door. He guided a key by touch into a barrel lock and pushed the heavy door.
He breathed a sigh of relief. The air inside smelled of subtle vinegar and lemons, meaning the housekeeping he ordered had been done.
“Can you see in the dark?” John said, snickering. Sam felt hands slide around his middle as John laid a breathy kiss against the back of his neck.
“Hold on, there should be…” Yes. A shelf just next to the door held a lantern and a box of matches, another thing he had specified. He could only imagine what scenarios his secretary had conjured up to explain such strange and specific directions, but Sam was not going to worry about that. He struck a match and lit the lantern, illuminating the back room of an old, empty shop. A curving staircase at the far wall led upstairs.
They entered the living quarters above, and Sam crossed the room to set the lantern on a side table. The hearth was low and made of rough-cut stone, and the plain plank floors were broken only by the few rugs he had arranged for, along with some furnishings. It was hardly what either of them was accustomed to and more than a few steps below Lily’s fine house. Perhaps John would be put out at such surroundings.
“You own this place?” John said, peering around a corner to the back rooms.
“Yes. I have several such properties. This one was vacant so I thought…” Sam rubbed a hand over his mouth. “It’s a little shabby, but this neighborhood is a common pass through. I mean, no one would think anything of people being about at odd hours or—”
“Sam.” John met his eyes. “This is perfect. We’re safe, and I’m alone with you. It’s perfect.”
Sam’s heart swelled. He turned to the hearth before he said something stupid, and set to work on getting a fire going.
“I fear you and I are going to become accomplished maids after too long,” John said with a laugh. As if to make his point, he took a few candles from a box he found on the sideboard and placed them in an empty holder.
Sam could not help but smirk. They had been obliged to cover up the evidence of their two nights in Lily’s house, which had involved everything from scooping ashes from the hearth to emptying their own chamber pots. Just when they were sure they had left the room as it was, John had recalled the soiled bed linens and nearly panicked.
Sam tried not to laugh as he remembered John throwing up his hands and declaring he would send a street boy in search of a laundress.
“Not so bad this time. I’ve made arrangements.” The fire was taking well. Sam stood, slapping dust from his hands, and crossed to John. Without a word, Sam took John’s hand and lifted it to his lips, smelling his skin.
John released a shaky breath. “Arrangements? You find fault with my domestic skills?”
Sam chuckled. “We are both hopeless, I fear. Anyway, I arranged for a woman who lives nearby to visit several times a week. If she sees a piece of paper wedged in the side door, it means she has to come in and tidy up. My man has already given her a key.”
“A veritable tactician.” John brushed a kiss across Sam’s cheek. “All of this makes my arrangements rather pointless.”
“Oh?” Sam frowned. “Did you have something? I should have spoken to you first.”
John cut in with a delighted laugh. “I had no arrangements at all, which definitely makes them pointless. Lord, Sam. My visits to the brothel barely twice a year were the height of my cunning.”
Sam almost reminded John of his clever relationship with Lily but decided he would fill John’s head with compliments later. There was a bedchamber to the back of the house through an archway, making the layout essentially one room. Sam took John’s hand and pulled him toward the bed.
“The master’s chambers,” Sam intoned grandly. He crossed to a clapboard wardrobe and opened the door. “As you can see, the dressing room is rather cozy, but a good valet can easily manage with such space.”
John laughed. “My valet would faint, then advertise for a better position as soon as he woke.”
“Ah, but surely the immaculate wall murals more than make up for the size,” Sam insisted, trying to hold his laughter.
“Immaculate, are they?” John faced one of the bare plastered walls.
“Without a doubt, my lord.” Sam brushed his fingers down the wall. “No misuse of color or fading. In fact, no color at all. It can’t get more immaculate than that.”
Sam suddenly found his back covered as strong arms wrapped around him. John whispered a breath across his ear before sucking the lobe between his lips. Sam whimpered and dropped his head back.
“So, y-you like the mural?” Sam gasped.
John released Sam’s earlobe, then blew on the wet flesh and chuckled. “No, I hate it. But I did like the way you said ‘my lord.’”
“You did?” Sam shivered. Aside from that first night, when John had forced him to let down his guard and expose his want, they had not done anything too rough or demanding. But he had sensed John tempering himself after that, biting off words and pulling his hands away when his grip became too tight. If only John knew how much Sam wanted it.
I could let him know. Tonight.
John chuckled again. “Never mind. Let’s pull that settee close to the fire so I can undress you with a better view.”
“Whatever you wish. My lord.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“I wouldn’t do something like that. Your lordship.”
John growled and pulled Sam close again, but this time he worked his fingers into Sam’s sides.
“Argh! Damn you!” Sam tried to twist away from the tickling fingers, but John had him cut off from escape. The bizarre pain-pleasure of it had him desperate to escape even as his cock went painfully hard. He darted toward the bed, pretending that he meant to roll over it, but slipped past John when he fell for the ruse. He made it barely halfway to the main room before John had him again.
“I will kill you!” Sam blurted, his eyes tearing with laughter. There was nothing like tickling to drive a man batty.
“Ah, but darling. Surely you would not waste all your clever arrangements on a dead man?” John tackled him onto the overstuffed chaise in the middle of the room, coming down after him with a laugh.
Sam expected John to continue torturing him until he cried defeat, so he wasn’t prepared for the searing kiss, nor John’s hand cupping and caressing him through the front of his breeches.
“All right. I won’t kill you.” Sam narrowed his eyes. “For now.”
“Good enough.” John dived back in, plundering Sam’s mouth until he couldn’t tell up from down. He raked his fingers through John’s hair.
“I love it when you do that.” John moaned.
“I love it when you do everything. When you touch me. Just touch me.” Sam threw his head back and John started untying his cravat. As soon as it was gone, John was there, sucking and kissing Sam’s neck, the front of his throat, his jaw. John sucked the other earlobe and grazed it with his teeth, making Sam’s cock strain against his breeches.
“I’m going to spend if you don’t stop.”
“Is that a warning, or encouragement?” John drew his tongue over Sam’s throat.
“Oh, God! If I spend now, I’ll fall asleep.”
“Ah. A warning, then.” John lifted himself on his arms and looked down at Sam. The fire had worked up nicely, setting those bronze flecks in John’s eyes sparkling. His expression turned thoughtful, almost calculating.
“What?” Sam narrowed his eyes.
“I have an idea. Come with me.” And John was up, bouncing on his feet and hauling Sam up with him.
Sam grunted. “What are you doing?”
“Rearranging furniture. Come along.”
Sam followed John to the bedroom, where he was certain he already knew the direction of John’s thoughts. Sure enough, John stopped at the side of the bed and grabbed two handfuls of the heavy stuffed mattress. Sam grinned and took up the other side. The mattress was damned heavy, but they managed to haul it into the front room and drop it down with a mighty slap on the floorboards. John reappeared with a bundle of the bedclothes and tossed them down. They left the bed situated before the fireplace.
“I think
you
are the tactician,” Sam teased. “Are you afraid of being cold?”
“No. I just want to be sure I have enough light to see every inch of you once I have your clothes off.”
Sam sucked in a breath. He hoped he never grew used to such words.
John twisted out of his coat and tossed it over the chaise. His shirt and waistcoat followed before Sam had even finished with his buttons.
“Your poor valet.” Sam smirked. “He must spend half the day sewing buttons after you’ve popped them off.”
“Only recently.” John brushed Sam’s hands away and set to work undressing him. Sam watched his face, marveling at his excitement and the heat in his eyes when he raised them.
I love you. Oh, God, I love you.
John slid his hands under Sam’s shirt, then lifted it all over his head. Sam laughed as John flung the clothes over the chaise, then jerked Sam against him by his waistband. Sam groaned as they came together, bare chests touching for the first time in days. A part of him cringed at his open reaction, telling him that he should not leave his heart so exposed, but that voice was growing weaker by the day. Seeing the smiles John made just for him and feeling the caresses he so clearly wanted to give ate away at the doubt Sam carried with him. John liked him. John wanted him. John cared about him.
The doubt was still too big to think of more than that.
“Where are you?” John whispered.
Sam looked up. “Here. Definitely here.”
“Good.”
Then they were down on the soft mattress, and John pulled Sam’s breeches and stockings off before attacking his own. He laughed when he flung his trousers away then had to retrieve them for the little bottle of oil in the pocket. When he returned, he knelt at Sam’s side and trailed his hand from the top of Sam’s chest down to his swollen, dripping cock.
Sam shivered despite the sweat already beading on his skin. Being exposed was still so new, and part of him instinctively wanted to hide away. There he was, laid out naked before a roaring fire, every imperfect inch of him exposed. But there was nothing critical in John’s eyes. He looked hungry.
John straddled one of Sam’s legs and leaned down to lick at his throat again. Sam took the opportunity to touch John everywhere he could reach. Before long, they were entangled. Kissing and touching, rolling across the mattress so that Sam was over him, then back again. Sam couldn’t get enough of John’s rumbling moans, of knowing that he caused them. He had no idea how much time passed when John finally broke away and lifted on his hands to look down at him.
“Need to be inside you. Now.”
God, yes.
Sam scooted closer and started to spread his legs, but John grabbed his knee.
“No, turn over.” John licked his lips. “On your knees.”
Sam’s mouth went dry. He knew he was being ridiculous. Most men considered making love face-to-face to be more difficult, more intimate and frightening, but Sam didn’t feel that way. It was harder turning your back on someone, putting yourself in the most vulnerable, exposed position.
And it was the way he had allowed those
other
men to take him. To use him.
John touched his cheek. “It’s all right. We don’t have to if you don’t like it.”
When Sam looked up, he saw only concern and a little confusion in John’s eyes. No anger. No disappointment.
Sam nuzzled his face into John’s hand and kissed his palm. “I want to.” He did. He could not count the number of his fantasies that included strong hands digging into his hips, pulling him back, but the reality had never matched them. It would this time.
He turned onto his knees. John covered Sam and kissed the nape of his neck, wrapping his arms around Sam and sliding his hands back and forth across his chest. Sam groaned and pushed his hips back.