Hunter let go of my hand long enough to flip the dead bolt and check the back door. “Do you have a bag or anything?”
“No. Theo dropped me at the train station and gave me money for a ticket. Basically told me to not come back without you.”
“Really?” Hunter led me up the stairs. “I didn’t think he liked me all that much.”
“He likes you mostly because I like you.”
“Good enough.” His laughter made my heart skip.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Hunter on losing at poker but winning anyway
My old room was tiny, the slanted ceiling closing in on our heads, but the bed was full size and comfortable. I stripped as soon as I closed my bedroom door, flicking the lock with an emphatic click. Regge followed suit and we both fell onto the bed, a tangle of emotions and hormones.
Regge’s chin was unshaven and prickly. I rubbed my short beard across it. Nipping at his earlobe, I smiled as he chuckled. It was an awesome sound.
His hands were everywhere, skimming my skin like a surfer, hitching and turning at crests and valleys, sensitive places at the small of my back, between my legs. Regge’s mouth followed his fingers. I babbled as heat closed over me. Running my fingers through his hair, I cried out and gripped him hard. Too hard. I sputtered out an apology as he licked me like I was melting ice cream. I was. Regge took me to the back of his throat.
I clamped a hand over my mouth to muffle a shout. I wasn’t going to last long.
He pulled off and looked at me. “Did I…”
“No. No. It’s all good, but I want you up here.” I pulled at his shoulders. “I want you. God, I’ve waited forever it seems. Life is short, Regge. Let’s fuck already.”
A laugh tumbled out of him. “Ever the romantic.”
“What? You want me to light a candle? I want to have you, be inside you and… what?”
He sat back on his knees, a hand over his eyes. “I can’t. Bloody fucking hell. I—”
I stilled, remembering his confession about his childhood. “Look, it’s okay. I never, ever want to make you feeluncomfortable. Ever. So this—” I gestured between us. “This is perfect.”
Regge rarely talked about his brutal childhood. I wanted to soothe him, make him feel safe and unashamed. I held back more words, even the reassuring ones, because I knew him. He needed space to gather his thoughts.
Speaking modern English, adapting to everything modern and unfamiliar can’t have been an easy transition, and he’d done it beautifully. Still there was that stoicism, that stiff upper lip ingrained in him that held him back.
His eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I can’t do that. I’ve never. Charlie was always the one to… receive. The thought of— I want to, Hunter. With you. I want you. To do everything. To feel you, but—” He closed his eyes.
I kissed his eyelids. “Babe, it’s okay. We don’t have to do anything more than we have. I can be the one to, as you say, receive. I’m versatile. I like that. I’d love it with you.”
At my words, Regge looked at me, his eyes burning bright. Those bottomless jade pools I lost myself in so many times.
I nodded. “I want you to fuck me, Reg.”
His pupils dilated, leaving only a slim green circle surrounding them. He blew out a heated breath. “Oh gods, yes.”
We scrambled around for a moment. “Wait… I… ah. I’ll be right back.” I left the bedroom, thanking every deity I knew that my mom had renovated and added an en suite bathroom. I did what I needed to do and came back to see Regge sprawled on his side, elbow crooked to prop up his head. I groaned softly at the sight of him.
I shivered and joined him, nerves thrumming. We faced each other, my fingers tracing lightly over a pale hip, his muscular thigh, seeking. Regge kissed me, and I lost all thought except for the taste of him.
He pulled away, urging me onto my front, yanking a pillow down to lift my hips. I groaned at the feel of cotton sheets on my dick. Regge’s lips traced down my back, his fingers so light they almost tickled.
His touch grew substantial as he moved me around. “I’m going to make it so good for you. So good.” His voice was hushed and emotional enough for a wedding vow. His breath was hot against my skin, and I dragged my eyes open when he spoke again. “I found this. Is this good to use?” He held out a small bottle of lube.
“Yes,” I squeaked out. “Do you want a condom? I’m negative so—”
Regge’s tone rasped as he spoke. “Negative? Ah, yes, testing. I haven’t done anything since the seventeenth century. When I first arrived in this time, Mistress Jane drew enough blood from me to float a boat. Declared me fit as fine.”
