Viggo surveyed the surroundings with the eye of a man accustomed to assessing potential threats. Apparently satisfied, he lowered himself into one of the chairs with a grunt.
“Wine?” Evander asked, gesturing to the bottle that had been left chilling in a silver bucket.
“God, yes.”
Evander poured two glasses and handed one to Viggo before settling into the seat beside him. Below them, the auditorium continued to fill, a swirl of colour and movement and the low murmur of hundreds of conversations. The orchestra was tuning up in the pit, producing the familiar cacophony that always preceded a performance.
“Thank you,” Evander said quietly. “For agreeing to come tonight.”
Viggo’s hand found his in the shadows between their seats. “You know I can never refuse you.”
“I remember several instances in the last week when you did, in fact, refuse me,” Evander said tartly.
Viggo blinked. Realisation dawned. A seductive smile curved his lips.
He lifted Evander’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “You always tell me to stop, but your body nevertheless always says otherwise.” He leaned closer and whispered in Evander’s ear,“Especially that pretty cock of yours. Never mind your sweet, hot, ho?—”
Evander muzzled him with a hand, heat creeping up his neck even as his cock twitched. “Will you behave?!”
Viggo chuckled, his breath tickling Evander’s palm.
The lights began to dim. The audience quieted. The first notes of the overture swelled through the auditorium.
CHAPTER 46
Two hourslater and Evander had to concede that this rendition ofLa Traviatawas particularly sublime. Violetta’s tragedy unfolded on the stage below in a sweep of glorious music and heartbreaking emotion, the soprano’s voice soaring through arias that caused Evander’s eyes to prickle.
To his credit, Viggo managed to stay awake through the first two acts. He even appeared to be paying attention during the more dramatic moments, though Evander suspected this had more to do with the on-stage sword fight in Act Two than any appreciation for Verdi’s genius.
It was during the interval between Acts Two and Three that everything changed.
They had declined to join the crush in the lobby, preferring to remain in the privacy of their box. Evander was standing by the curtains and looking out over the milling crowd below when he felt Viggo’s presence behind him, a wall of heat at his back.
“You’re thinking again,” Viggo murmured, his breath warm against Evander’s ear.
“I’m always thinking.”
“Mm. It’s one of your more irritating qualities.” Large hands settled on Evander’s hips, pulling him back against a broadchest. “What is it this time? The investigation? The Ministry? That pompous arse Beckett?”
Evander huffed a laugh despite himself. “Nothing so dire. I was simply appreciating this moment.”
“Were you now?” Viggo’s lips brushed the curve of his ear, making him shiver. “And here I thought you were paying attention to the opera.”
“I was.” Evander sighed and sank back into his lover. “I can do both, you know.”
“You have such talent, your Grace.” The hands on his hips tightened fractionally. “I have a confession to make.”
Evander frowned a little. “You do?”
“Yes. I haven’t been paying attention to the opera at all.”
Evander turned his head, bringing their faces close together. “No?” He raised an eyebrow. “What have you been paying attention to?”
Viggo’s eyes were dark in the dim light of the box, his expression intent. “You. The way the music makes you lean forward in your seat. The way your breath catches during the high notes. The way you look in this light.” His thumb traced circles on Evander’s hip bone through the layers of clothing. “I’ve been thinking about touching you for the past two hours.”
Desire coiled through Evander. “We’re in public.”
“We’re in a private box. With very heavy curtains.” Viggo’s mouth found the sensitive spot below his ear. “No one can see us.”
