Chapter 19 #2
“You haven’t even seen the room yet.” Cameron started up the stairs and Thomas trailed behind.
The lush dark blue carpet was the first thing to appear in Thomas’s line of sight as his head poked into the room.
The color was like a swatch of the nighttime sky, and that feeling expanded the further he climbed into the space.
“Hold on,” Cameron said, stepping off to the side. “Lights.”
The luscious and richly colored peacock wallpaper continued in the attic, wrapped around the room like the most exquisite and fanciful birthday present.
A full bar was set to one side, gleaming with maple-wood accents and rows and rows of glass bottles and decanters.
A few high-backed stools were set on the opposite side of the bar for seating.
A tawny leather sofa sat in the middle of the space, flanked by two matching armchairs. The surface of the live-edge coffee table between them was cluttered with tapered candles in varying colors and sizes. All unlit, but Cameron was making quick work of changing that.
As he did so, Thomas wandered over to the only window. It was round and small and set within the east wall. He could feel the cold air from beyond against his face. The snow was still falling in heavy tufts.
“Would you like a drink?” Cameron asked. “Another cigar?”
Thomas turned, and a mob of tiny flames were dancing and flickering on the coffee table from all the lit candles. He hadn’t noticed until just now, but ornate copper lanterns were strategically placed along the walls, making the room and peacocks glow between the soft shadows.
“Yes and yes,” Thomas said, smiling helplessly, his heart warm. It was too magical and cozy here to feel anything but delight. He walked over and sat himself on one of the high stools. “Whiskey?”
Cameron was behind the bar. “Neat? Cocktail?”
“Neat, please.”
“Coming right up.” Cameron set two glass tumblers on the wooden counter and pulled a bottle from the shelf behind him. As he tipped the amber liquid into the first glass, Thomas took in the room once more.
“Why am I only just now finding out about this?” he asked. “It’s been a month.”
“I’m going to sound like a broken record,” Cameron said, pouring whiskey into the second glass.
“Go on.”
“I hadn’t thought about it—or rather, no one wants to come up here and sit with me. I like certain things, or I design a space in a specific way, but then it feels awkward to occupy it alone, so I don’t do it and I forget that I enjoy the thing.”
Cameron slid a tumbler over to him and Thomas accepted it.
He lifted his drink toward Cameron and they touched their glasses in a tidy clink.
Thomas brought the rim to his nose and sniffed.
The undertones smelled of caramel, smoke and honey.
He took a tasting sip and moaned without meaning to.
“God, I haven’t tasted good whiskey in… I don’t know how long. ”
“Do you want another cigar?” Cameron asked, reaching for the box he’d carried up. “We have a whole goddamned box of the 1964s.”
Thomas chuckled. “What do you have in your collection?”
“Ah, I have a case of the Arturo Fuente Hemingway Maduro. I like that the broadleaf wrappers are sweet to taste and the aroma is like dark chocolate.”
Intrigued, Thomas grinned. “Shall we have one of those? And do you mind sharing with me again? I don’t want to start a whole one in case I don’t enjoy it.
” Quietly, he’d liked sharing a cigar with Cameron earlier in the evening.
Thomas had never done that before, and something about it felt sensual. A kind of unspoken foreplay.
Cameron produced a cigar and expertly snipped the tip. When he pulled out a small box of matches, Thomas touched his wrist. “May I do the honors this time?” he asked.
“Sure.” Cameron relinquished the box. Thomas watched as he casually dipped and rolled the very edge of the cigar into his whiskey, then brought it to his mouth.
“Huh,” Thomas said when their eyes met.
One side of Cameron’s full lips quirked up around the cigar. He quickly pulled it from his mouth. “The whiskey comes through, and it makes the taste even sweeter.”
Thomas grinned. “I’ll trust your judgment on that, good sir.” A warm, almost purring sensation sat low in Thomas’s belly as he removed two matches from the box, but he stuffed the feeling down.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t as graceful as Cameron had been.
It took Thomas three strikes to ignite the match instead of one smooth one (another subtle way the man had shown off, Thomas decided).
When the flame finally breathed to life, Cameron bent and tilted the cigar toward it while Thomas cupped the heat of it with his free hand.
The glow from the fire was a seductive spotlight on Cameron’s beautiful lips wrapped around the cigar. Thomas watched it all, absorbed as the smoke began to curl and rise in front of his pretty hazel eyes.
“You said no one would come up here with you,” Thomas reiterated, entranced. “Not even Devon?”
The end of the cigar glowed red and Cameron stood straighter. He puffed a few times for good measure, then pulled long from the tip. He lifted his chin and blew the smoke above them. “I don’t like Devon enough to bring him up here.”
“Really?” Thomas said, a little bit surprised and very much pleased.
Cameron offered the cigar. “Would you like to try?” Thomas took it from him and set his lips to the end. It was damp from Cameron’s mouth and the dip in the whiskey. Something about that, the confection of lovely aromas blended together with the ambiance, made Thomas’s pulse kick up.
“Devon was my friend—or so I thought,” Cameron went on. “But we only talked about the book business. Nothing more. He didn’t even enjoy reading, so I kept his visits… efficient. If I’d brought him up here, he would have wanted to linger.”
Thomas held the aroma of the cigar for a moment, tasting and allowing it to saturate his palate before he blew it out.
He noted the dark chocolate as Cameron had mentioned, but also wood and spices.
“This is nice,” he said approvingly. He lifted his gaze to meet Cameron’s.
“And I’m pleased to know that you like me enough to bring me up here. ”
“Of course I like you. Was there some ambiguity prior to this moment?”
“Well, maybe not,” Thomas said. “But it’s nice to know it for certain.
” Cameron had said that he liked Thomas’s “sharp perspective” and “inquisitive mind.” Undoubtedly, those were vital aspects of who he was.
But liking certain characteristics was a bit different than liking him, wasn’t it? Pieces of the man versus the total sum.
Cameron took a sip from his tumbler and folded his lips, savoring the flavor before speaking. “You said yourself that my eyes alighting means that I’m pleased with you. Is that not irrefutable evidence of my affection? Is there something more you need from me to confirm it?”
Thomas paused with the cigar just in front of his mouth, watching Cameron. Was he baiting him? He hadn’t pegged Cameron as the type to play flirtatious games. Was his question truly innocent or was he probing?
Thomas brought the cigar the rest of the way to his mouth, keeping his eyes on Cameron as he puffed slowly. He raised his chin to blow it out. “Would you give more, Cameron? Do you want more?”
A soft pause. Thomas waited patiently, tasting the aromas of dark chocolate and caramel and spices on his tongue and in the air, the subtle radiant warmth of Cameron’s body pressing an uncanny hint of ginger and honey into the hypnotic mix.
The uncertainty twisting Cameron’s expression was obvious. “Do I want more of… what? What do you mean?”
Suppressing the coiling and perverted heat of his nature, Thomas shook his head. “Can we sit on the couch and talk? It looks very cozy.”
“Of course.” Cameron took his tumbler and moved from behind the bar as Thomas stood from the high stool.
Breathe, Thomas. Give the man some space.
They’d only been living together a month, and frankly, it was ridiculous that he felt so intensely attracted to this purebred, this fast. Maybe it was the nearness of Thomas’s traumatic experience manipulating his senses, but Cameron and his home felt overwhelmingly safe.
Cameron was kind and thoughtful, and his home was beautiful (whimsical, even), warm, clean and bright, and everyone in it practically glowed with a contentment that Thomas had never before witnessed.
It was like he’d been drowning out at sea, alone for months on end, but a friendly ship had pulled him on board and he was immediately falling in love with the captain. He needed to get ahold of himself.
Cameron hadn’t asked what Rachelle had gotten them for a present.
In all the commotion of saying their goodbyes after the party and the gifted box of cigars from Henry, he must have forgotten about it.
Thomas wanted to tell him, but not tonight.
Talking about going to a Roman bathhouse together was not…
It would not help Thomas to reel in his runaway feelings.
Instead, they talked about other things. Cameron asked if Thomas was still upset with Mira, and Thomas told him no. That he no longer felt it logical to blame her for what had happened to him, because in reality, she had been powerless to stop it.
They talked more about the staff, and how Cameron, too, had noticed that Mira and Sulee seemed quite fond of one another. Cameron supposed he might eventually need to give Mira and Sulee a suite together, like Lennon and Miles. To which Thomas had balked—“Lennon and the driver?”
Cameron had waved a hand. “They’ve been mated for as long as I can remember. You hadn’t noticed?”
“Christ…” Thomas had stared blankly into the candle flames, his empty tumbler cupped in his palms. “I had not.”
“You’ve been busy surviving, and you’ve probably never seen them in the same room together. They’re very discreet. They have a suite together in the southern wing.”