Chapter 6
. . .
Reuben
I’m still not sure what I’m doing by the time I’m standing in the corridor of the third floor. In front of me the door stands, the number thirty-nine beckoning to me like a siren. And still I hesitate.
What the fuck am I doing? This morning when I woke up, I knew I was coming to the Cotswolds to support Jez. I also knew I was going to hook up with Grey. Both of these are familiar things to me. Easy. No problems.
This? I look at the door again. This is a potential problem. I should definitely stage a strategic retreat. Go back and hide in my room away from the temptation of golden hair and sparkling eyes. I nod, pleased with my decision. This is maturity and I am finally embracing it.
Which is why it’s a complete surprise to watch my hand rise and knock on the door. Fuck.
I don’t have time to panic, because footsteps sound, the door swings open, and he’s there.
He’s changed and is now wearing a pair of loose grey sweatpants that hang from his narrow hips showing a glimpse of a tight V-line, and a T-shirt advertising a gym which looks like it’s been spray-painted onto his lean body.
His eyes are sparkling, his hair a wavy mess, and his lips full and sweetly pink. I have an odd feeling of falling while standing still—as if this is a moment I need to memorise, because it’s going to be very important to me.
I’ve always had a special sense that has stood me well in times of danger—something that tells me to move or stay still.
And now that sense is tingling, giving me a feeling that this evening will have an impact on me I can’t foresee yet.
I shrug it away. I’m starting to sound like my godmother.
Soon I’ll be ringing a psychic to tell me if it’s safe to get up in the morning.
He smirks and the moment is broken. “Thought it might be you.”
I cock my head. “Were you expecting someone else? Did you happen to proposition another poor man in the five minutes since I last saw you?”
“No.” He pulls a mock sad face. “What can I say? It’s been a slow day.” I have to fight the urge to smile. “I do usually move quickly, but luckily for you that day is not today.”
“You don’t know how special and sparkly that makes me feel.”
He laughs and grabs my hand to pull me into the room.
“I can make you feel very special,” he says with the confident arrogance of youth.
He shuts the door behind us and leans against it as if preventing my exit.
He needn’t worry. As soon as I saw him, my desire to flee vanished.
I hope it hasn’t taken my common sense with it.
I set my bags down and we stare at each other for a long few seconds, the silence alive with possibilities. His lip tilts and then he begins to pull off his T-shirt.
“Wait,” I snap.
His hands stop instantly, God, he’s going to destroy me. Such easy obedience.
He raises one eyebrow. “Aren’t we fucking?”
I don’t know why he makes me feel like I need to clutch my pearls, but he has me oddly off-guard. “Well first, I’d definitely like to know that you’re over eighteen.”
He puts a hand to his forehead in a tragic pose. “I cannot believe that you don’t trust me. It’s all very sad.”
“Yes, it’s tragic. I’ll get out my tiny violin after you show me your ID.”
“Goodness, it’s like fucking the entire Gloucestershire constabulary.”
“You wish.” I snap my fingers at him.
He huffs and goes to the bedside table to retrieve a wallet. After rifling through it, he produces a driving licence and shows it to me.
I study it curiously. In the black-and-white photo, he’s pouting mischievously. How is it that he has an attractive photo on his driving licence? I look like a bad-tempered serial killer on mine. I look to see his name, but his finger is over it.
“Okay now?” he asks.
“I don’t know.”
“What? Why?”
“Well, I know you’re nineteen, but after seeing your photo, I’m now convinced you might in fact be a young-looking serial killer.”
“Get lost. That’s a fucking class pose.”
My lip twitches. “Whatever that ridiculous sentence means.”
He taps his fingers on his lips. “Do you need more proof of identity? Maybe I should turn over, and you can count my rings like a tree.”
“I’m only interested in one ring, thank you very much.”
He laughs, and it’s loud and rambunctious, making my own mouth twitch in longing to join him.
“I’ve never worked this hard to get a man,” he says dramatically.
This time I do laugh. “Pack away your wiles, Circe. It’s only been half an hour.”
“I know. I must be slipping.”
I laugh again but it dies when he whips off his T-shirt.
It’s a clumsy movement. His long nose catches on the neck, and his hair is now in a staticky mess, but there’s still a grace to him, a sense of elegance.
And he’s utterly beautiful—long and lithe like a statue of a Greek god.
The sun limns his body, tracing golden skin and pale pink nipples.
He has a bar through one nipple and he’s hairless, his abs tight.
My greedy eyes track down to his cute little belly button and the V-line disappearing into his sweatpants.
There’s already an intriguing bulge distending the fabric.
“Well?” he says, and the husky catch in his voice makes my balls tighten.
I lean back against the wall and fold my arms. “Take off the sweatpants.”
My voice is hoarse, belying my casual tone, and his eyes flare, all amusement vanishing. My lips twitch as I watch him strip off his joggers like there’s a stopwatch recording his time, leaving him in just a tiny pair of briefs.
I whistle. “I think you just broke the sound barrier.”
“Oh, shut up. You’re gorgeous, so I cannot be blamed for speed. Just know I’ll probably be pretty quick, too, when we’re naked and getting down to business.”
I snort. “Business? Makes us sound like we’re floating a company on the stock market.”
He’s completely unaffected by my sarcasm, and snaps his fingers in the waistband of his briefs. “Shall we get to it, then?”
“This is the most erotic moment of my life.”
“With your looks, I’m pretty sure that’s not true.”
I’m absurdly flattered, probably because of the carelessness of his tone.
A comment meant to bolster my ego would’ve been more coyly said.
I’m not bad-looking, but my face is a little too craggy, and I’m toned by trekking and moving fast in places where you’re outrunning a man with a gun and not a gym membership.
I’m certainly no match for his golden prettiness.
He steps forward, coming so close I can smell his cologne. It smells spicy and warm. I swallow hard and his eyes twinkle.
“I think you should take something off now,” he proclaims. His confidence is as bold and bright as a new two-pound coin that hasn’t had the shine rubbed off it yet.
“Oh, you do?”
“Yep. Lose the shirt. Gives me something to look at while I do some stellar work.”
“Oh, are you entering the Peace Corps?”
He starts to laugh and I grin at him, but it slides off my face as he lowers himself to his knees in front of me. He puts his hands neatly on his thighs and looks up. “Much better than that,” he says huskily.
“Well, who needs peace anyway? It’s vastly overrated.”
He laughs and watches intently as I unbutton my shirt and peel it off my shoulders and drop it to the floor.
“Fuck,” he says in a breathy voice. My dick kicks as I watch his eyes go heavy-lidded and slumberous. “You’re so gorgeous.”
“Hardly,” I scoff.
He licks his lips. “I think you should unbutton your jeans.”
“You’re rather bossy.”
He shrugs. “I’m also exceptionally good at blowjobs.”
“Don’t ever let anyone tell you that’s a bad thing.”
I unbutton my jeans and slide my hand into my briefs, pulling out my cock. It’s already hard, the head slippery with precome.
He stares at it hungrily and then sits up straight, the sun highlighting the different caramel and honey shades in his hair.
“You’re so beautiful,” I say before I can stop myself. His humour drops away and he stares up at me with shocked eyes. My face reddens. “What? Has no one ever given you a compliment?”
“No one like you. You really think that?”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean.” I clear my throat. “I mean if I were that nice, I wouldn’t be pointing out that the time period for a blowjob isn’t usually a century.”
He bursts into a peal of laughter and my lip twitches. My eyebrows rise as he opens his mouth and removes a wad of chewing gun. He throws it into the bin and nods at it. “It was to get more saliva and make everything nice and wet, but I won’t need that with you. You’re leaking like a tap.”
I nod solemnly. “Oh, I’m in the hands of a maestro. How relieved I feel.”
He cocks his head. “You don’t look relieved.”
“How do I look?”
“Hungry.” He comes up on his knees with a sudden burst of elegant motion, and I groan as he takes my cock in his hand. It looks angry and red against his soft skin, but he gazes at it as though he’s starving. “Will you watch me?” he asks, meeting my eyes.
I nod, swallowing hard.
His face grows slumberous, and he says, “I don’t want you to take your eyes off me.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” I admit and then can’t help my groan as he starts to kiss up and down the shaft. They’re tender, soft touches of his lips that send a startlingly strong wave of heat down my spine.
He raises his eyes to check I’m doing as he instructed, but he needn’t have bothered, because I could no more look away from him in this moment than I could voluntarily stop breathing. His lips are full and pink, and his cheeks are already flushed.