“Fine,” he murmured. “But be discreet.”
The look Viggo gave him could have melted steel. “I’m always discreet.”
By the time the reception wound to a close and their party returned to the hotel, Evander’s nerves were strung tight asa bow. He bid the others goodnight with what he hoped was convincing nonchalance and retreated to his room.
The clock on the mantelpiece read half past eleven.
Evander stripped off his evening coat and waistcoat and draped them carefully over the back of a chair. He loosened his cravat and unfastened the top buttons of his shirt before moving to the window to gaze out at the lamp-lit streets of Brussels.
He was thinking about what awaited them in Prague when a soft knock at the door made his pulse jump.
Evander crossed the room and opened it to find Viggo standing in the corridor, still dressed in his formal attire but with his coat unbuttoned and his cravat hanging loose around his neck. His dark eyes glittered hotly in the low light.
Desire coiled through Evander at the sight of his lover.
“You’re early,” he murmured.
“I couldn’t wait.”
Viggo stepped inside and closed the door behind him, turning the key in the lock with a decisive click. Before Evander could speak, the Brute’s hands were on him, pulling him close and claiming his mouth in a kiss that stole his breath.
Evander sank into him with a soft sound, his fingers tangling in Viggo’s hair as the Brute walked him backwards toward the bed. The kiss was hungry, desperate, three days of want compressed into a slide of tongues and a press of bodies that had them both panting hard.
“I didn’t think it’d be so damn hard not being able to touch you all this time,” Viggo growled against his lips.
“But you did touch me.” Evander gasped as Viggo’s mouth moved to his throat. “We kissed yesterday.”
“That was just an appetiser.” Viggo nipped at the pulse point beating frantically at the base of his neck, making Evander shudder. “I want the main course.”
They tumbled onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, hands working frantically at buttons and fastenings. Evander arched into Viggo’s touch as the Brute stripped away his shirt, his large hands mapping the planes of Evander’s chest with a possessive intent that ignited his nerve endings.
“Three days,” Viggo murmured, his breath hot against Evander’s skin. “Eighteen hours. Forty-seven minutes.”
Evander huffed a breathless laugh. “You’re still counting?”
“Every bloody second.”
Viggo’s mouth closed over his nipple and Evander’s laugh dissolved into a wanton moan. His hands scrabbled at Viggo’s shoulders, shoving at his shirt until the Brute relented long enough to strip it off.
The sight of Viggo above him, all bronzed skin and hard muscle and tattoos, his dark eyes burning with lust, made Evander’s cock throb painfully against the confines of his trousers.
“Please,” he breathed. “I want to feel you.”
Viggo made quick work of the remaining barriers between them, stripping away trousers and underclothing until they were both gloriously naked. Evander reached for him and wrapped his hand around the Brute’s impressive length. He stroked slowly, marvelling at the heat and silkiness of his flesh.
Viggo’s head fell back, a guttural groan escaping his throat. “If you keep doing that, this will be over embarrassingly fast.”
“Then perhaps you should do something about it,” Evander teased hotly.
The challenge sparked something feral in Viggo’s eyes. He leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed something from the pocket of his jacket. It was a small vial of the intimate oil Evander liked to use.
Evander’s hole contracted and his heart raced with anticipation. “You came prepared.”
“I came hopeful.” Viggo settled between Evander’s thighs, slicked his fingers, and pressed one against Evander’s entrance. “Now stop talking and let me take care of you.”
Evander gasped as Viggo breached him, the familiar stretch sending sparks of pleasure up his spine. He gripped the sheets as Viggo worked him open with maddening patience, adding a second finger and then a third, crooking them just right to probe the spot that made Evander see stars.
“Viggo,” he panted as the Brute thrust slowly, deliberately inside him. “Enough. I need?—”
