Chapter Thirty-one
DOMINIC
Waking up hurt considerably more than I’d expected. For one glorious moment I was still half asleep, warm and comfortable with Ben curled against me beneath the duvet. Then I tried to move and discovered that apparently every part of my body had filed formal complaints overnight.
I made a small noise before I could stop myself.
Ben’s eyes opened instantly, if blearily. “You okay?”
“No,” I said honestly into the pillow. “I feel like I got trampled by a stampede of dragons.”
His lips twitched. “That’s not the correct collective noun.”
“It bloody should be.”
I shifted experimentally and immediately regretted every decision I’d made in the last twenty-four hours.
Ben pushed himself up onto one elbow beside me, hair sticking up wildly and pillow creases across one cheek. It shouldn’t have been possible for anyone to look that attractive while also resembling a startled hedgehog, and yet somehow he managed it.
“That’s what comes of hurling yourself into a hillside,” he observed.
“Thanks for the sympathy.”
He rolled his eyes, then leaned down and kissed me softly. God. Him.
The kiss deepened lazily after that, and then turned into something not at all lazy. Right up until I tried to roll on top of him and hissed, because fuck, that hurt.
He laughed at me, but his eyes were soft. “Looks like you’re going to have to let me do all the work,” he told me.
He looked so pleased with himself by the time he had me flat out under him, breathing unevenly, that I almost let him. But I insisted on being the one to prep him, even if I did let him stretch to reach the lube for me.
He made that little sound he always made when I breached him, and then he was riding my hand, his colour high, eyes hungry on my face.
I thought he was going to come like this, and I twisted my fingers inside him, trying to give him what he needed, but he was still Ben, stubbornly determined to see this through his way.
“Nope,” he said, moving off me with a delighted, dazed-looking little grin and reaching for a condom. “My turn this time.”
I lay there, biting my lip as he rolled it onto me. I’d never been this passive in bed before, and it was weirdly arousing, letting him do this for me. Because it was Ben.
When he finally sank down on my cock, I arched up to meet him, and the slick tightness around me meant I didn’t even notice the pain from my bruises.
And then he was still, just looking at me.
Which I might not have minded if not for the fact I was pretty certain my face was red and I was this close to begging him to move.
“Oh, my fucking God.” It spilled out of me as he circled his hips. My fingers dug into his thighs so hard it must have hurt, but he just kept going, though that little, pleased smile he’d worn at first was changing now as his movements grew less precise, more desperate.
Long, breathless minutes later, he leaned forward to kiss me, but it was too much, felt too good.
We ended up basically panting into one another's mouths. He folded forward against me, moving his hips in a way that—yeah. Fuck me, I was gone. Didn’t have a hope of lasting with Ben pressed against me that way, his arse so tight around my dick as he moved.
I was still floating, recovering, but he didn’t wait for me. He reached his hand down to work his cock until he made a breathy little sound. His come landed warm on my skin, and God, I wanted to come all over again. If only I’d had a bone left in my body.
He shouldn’t have had to bring himself off.
I should have—I wanted to do that for him.
But the way he was nuzzling into me, kissing me…
. He’d liked it. He’d liked taking care of me, even if that meant taking care of himself.
And I wasn’t sure what to do with that, except pull him even closer and kiss him.
I eventually managed to move enough to deal with the condom and swipe at his come with the corner of the sheet. Then we lay tangled together, my head on his chest while his fingers moved idly through my hair.
And for a few dangerous moments, I forgot about Rhodri. The thought returned the instant I saw my phone on the bedside table.
No messages. Relief moved through me so sharply it was almost dizzying. Not today, then. Or at least not yet.
Ben was watching me, far too perceptive as usual. “Nothing?”
I shook my head and tossed the phone back onto the bedside table. “Apparently I survive another morning.”
His expression tightened slightly at that, but he didn’t push.
We got downstairs to find breakfast had already been cleared, so we ended up in the kitchen, our only witnesses Toby and Rhi, who were clearing away from breakfast. Rhi gave us both an unnaturally bright “Morning” before discovering something fascinating in the cutlery drawer.
And with Toby locked in mortal combat with the dishwasher, the fact I was moving like a ninety-year-old went unnoticed.
We lingered in the kitchen longer than strictly necessary, neither of us quite willing to leave the other. Eventually, though, reality had to intrude.
“I should go and deal with the muppets,” I said with a sigh.
Ben looked faintly sympathetic. “Try not to terrify them too badly.”
“No promises.”
I hesitated then, because despite everything, a small uneasy part of me didn’t like the idea of leaving him alone in the house right now.
Ridiculous, really. Ben was perfectly capable of looking after himself.
If I’d ever had any doubts on that score, last night had laid them to rest. My quiet, careful historian had turned out to be absolutely formidable.
Uh, yeah. Probably best not to think about that when we were in company.
“Go,” he said, with a laugh and a small push that nearly toppled me over.
So I went.
BEN
Mum texted when I was on my way to the records room. They’d been clearing out the attic and found a whole box of stuff I’d stored up there before I moved in with Will. Did I want any of it, she asked.
Can you hang onto it so I can go through it when I get back?
You’re just like your father. He never throws anything away.
It might come in useful one day, I pointed out, parroting Dad’s perennial defence, and practically saw her eye roll.
I slid my phone into my pocket and realised how much I’d taken for granted.
I couldn’t imagine growing up in this house.
It wasn’t only Dominic, and what had been done to him as a child.
It was also the others—Dafydd, Megan and the rest of them.
They seemed stuck in perpetual adolescence, not allowed to become truly independent.
Not that any dragon ever was, not really.
Our head of family was always the ultimate arbiter.
But they never usually controlled life to the extent Rhodri did.
Rhodri… Dominic had mentioned how, only a few weeks ago, Rhodri had actually allowed Dominic to accompany him when he was conducting headship business.
I’d stared at him, convinced at first I must have misunderstood.
Surely, he meant he’d been given more responsibility, not his first responsibility.
Rhodri hadn’t thought he was ready. Rhodri had been protecting the family. That was how Dominic had explained it to me, as if it were the natural order of things. There’d been resentment in his voice, but that had mostly been swamped by resignation.
I was stunned by the revelation that Dominic, brought up in the expectation he’d one day lead the Bedwyrs, had been prevented from learning how.
Every responsibility that should have prepared him for the headship had simply…
never happened. All that intelligence, energy and restlessness, with nowhere to go.
And Rhodri had been surprised that Dominic acted as he did?
I drew a slow breath and looked around the records room. Dwelling on everything Dominic had been denied wasn’t going to help either of us.
The room was warmer today, and I didn’t need the heater.
I got stuck in straight away to the older records, the ones from the time Abimelech Mortimer was so interested in.
Dominic had called our speculations conspiracy theories, but I still thought we’d hit on a plausible explanation.
Damn, I’d forgotten to tell Evelyn our theory.
But after yesterday’s confession, I wasn’t in any great hurry to contact her again. I’d let her know another time.
Once more, I focused on photographing the records rather than reading them.
It swiftly grew tedious, because I needed to concentrate enough to ensure each picture captured the entire page clearly, but I didn’t have enough time to read anything.
I missed Dominic’s lazy teasing, which would have made this more bearable.
And he was gone longer than I’d expected.
I’d hit the hour mark and he still wasn’t back.
I dumped the stack I’d photographed on a shelf, and picked up another pile.
The night I’d come back here to read that damn piece of paper again, I’d ended up strewing papers around in my impatience to find it.
As a result, I’d mucked up a few of the semi-sorted piles completely.
I was now finding seventeenth century weather reports—really?
I mean, I was all for keeping everything, but even I might draw the line at that—mixed in with records of eighth century heads of family.
The only reason I looked properly at it was because it was on blue paper, not the dingy cream or aged white of most of these records.
Writing paper, I thought, remembering how Mum used to get us to write proper thank-you letters for birthday presents to various relatives, refusing our pleas that texts would say exactly the same and be less work to write.