“I certainly think women should be allowed to compete in fencing, even at the casual level,” Meredith says.
“Gwen would vanquish them all, no question,” Beth says, taking James’ line of flowers with a grateful smile. “I think she could probably best you too, James.”
James shrugs. “If she’s the better competitor, then I’d gladly admit defeat,” he tells Beth, smiling over at Gwen.
“When we get back, we should schedule a match. I’m sure my father’s suit would fit you... if we roll up the ankles,” Gwen says.
James snorts and gathers another handful of flowers. Even the idea of James in an overlarge fencing costume has Bobby feeling tight around the middle. There’s no way he’ll survive being out in public with the man right now. Though maybe another few romps might cure him of his schoolboy hormones,and then he could be reasonable. Because the comfort of James in his bed every night isn’t something he wants to give up.
James looks over at him again, an eyebrow raised, as if he can read the thoughts behind Bobby’s eyes. Bobby smooths his face and offers a casual smile. He doesn’t want to share his concerns about the future. James looks happy, bright, even a little glowing. Bobby doesn’t want to spoil that. Why waste this rare opportunity on the future, when he can immerse himself entirely in a wonderfully pleasurable present?
“Demeroven, you haven’t seen the lake, have you?” he asks.
All four of his fellow picnickers look over at him, apparently in the middle of a conversation he’s been ignoring. Gwen gives him a look while Meredith simply smiles. He doesn’t look at Beth, too sure she’ll see right through him.
“Ah, no, I haven’t,” James says, looking befuddled but not disinterested.
“Excellent. Let’s leave the women to their gossip and I’ll take you on the hunting tour, get you ready for the late summer season.”
“Aren’t you all shooting at the Havenfort estate? My father’s been preparing to stock the lake and the land,” Gwen says.
“We’ll come here after. Don’t rain on my hunting plans,” Bobby says, standing up to brush off his pants as if he’s being entirely rational.
He’ll need to work on his terrible subterfuge, it seems. Though James has risen gamely and stands with his hands on his hips, waiting for Bobby’s next move.
“We’ll see you later,” Bobby tells the girls, nodding toward the trees that will, if they want, take them on the winding path out to the lake.
“I do want to hear about that new cholera treatment youwere talking about later,” James tells Beth, giving her a smile before heading out in front of Bobby.
“Have fun,” Meredith says, while Gwen just continues to scrutinize them.
“We will,” Bobby says cheerfully, setting off after James at a leisurely pace.
It takes all the self-control he possesses not to run forward. Instead, he meanders behind James, enjoying the view. James is wearing just a green vest over his starched white shirt, and the high waist of his brown trousers only makes his pleasing shape more entrancing.
It’s a long two minutes until they’re safely within the tree line and Bobby approaches James, letting all of his lust and want and frustration show. James leans back against a thick oak just off the path, watching him in amusement.
“Could you have been even a little more delicate?” he asks.
“I could have,” Bobby admits, stepping right up to James to press his hands on either side of his head. “But why?”
“So perhaps our cousins don’t figure us out, oh, immediately?” James suggests, looking up at him and tilting his head, which leaves the long line of his throat open and available.
Bobby takes his opportunity, bending to press an open-mouthed kiss against James’ pulse, reveling in his little gasp. “My focus was on getting you off that blanket, don’t much care about how I did it,” he says, nosing up to trail his lips along James’ jaw.
James raises one of his hands and glides his fingers into the hair just above Bobby’s ear. It sends tingles all the way down his spine and Bobby hums, finally pressing his lips to the corner of James’, right against his languid smile.
“Well, I suppose we’re here now,” James mumbles, his hand curling further to rest on the nape of Bobby’s neck.
Bobby hums again, and James sucks on his bottom lip just the way he likes. A quick study, James Demeroven.
James suddenly spins them so Bobby’s back lands against the tree and James can press up against him. Bobby lets out a surprised huff against James’ mouth. The top of his hips grinds right into where Bobby wants him most, their height difference allowing James to press every last inch of himself against Bobby, arching up to continue their fabulous snog.
“We should move further back,” Bobby says regretfully a few minutes later, when they’re both starting to tug at each other’s shirts, hands dipping dangerously toward belt buckles.
James pulls away, looking wonderfully disheveled, his hair sticking out every which way. “Right,” he says.
He takes Bobby’s hand, and then it’s the mad race he wanted to begin with, the two of them running with shirts untucked and kiss-red lips, until they’re deep within the forest and well off the path toward the lake. Is Bobby entirely sure he can get them back out? Not particularly.
