XANDER
It wasa simple press of the lips. For a long moment, that was all it was. Perfectly lovely with the appropriate fluttering of nerves and excitement in the chest.
Tom was still, allowing me to brush my lips against his once, twice, a third time, but offering no further response. Satisfied with a pleasant enough kiss for our goodbye, I pulled back.
Our lips didn’t have the chance to part. Instead, a desperate sound ripped from the back of his throat. His hand found my neck and yanked me back in.
There was nothing perfectly lovely about the kiss now. Nothing pleasant enough. He surged forward, lips capturing mine, parting them with his tongue. Long, elegant fingers curled around my neck, his palm cradling my face. His other hand slipped inside my coat to catch my waist while he devoured me.
It was awkward; he was still astride the bench while I faced forward. The angle was all wrong. His movements were inelegant and limbs ungainly as he dragged one palm down my chest and carded his fingers through my hair with the other.
Tom was incapable of deciding what he liked. Instead, he seemed to try everything, everywhere, all at once. Every thought he’d ever had about kissing, he experimented with them all. It was entirely obvious that this was his first kiss—at least the first that he’d enjoyed. Itshouldhave been wretched.
And I’d never been more aroused. This man, far too young and inexperienced for the likes of me, moved with the wild hunger that only came from years of repressed feelings. And he had my heart ready to break free from my chest and my cock ready to rip a hole in my trousers.
It was impossible to keep up with him, impossible to predict his next movement. I surrendered to the reckless, wanton caresses. And I let him take what he needed as I tried desperately to hang on. The heady fact was, what he wanted—needed—wasme.
His frustrated whimper tugged at my heart when his hand tangled in my cravat, unable to undo it one-handed, with his eyes closed. And clearly the other hand was unwilling to abandon the strands of hair it had curled itself into.
I pulled as far away as he would let me, mumbling into his lips, “Sweet— slow down. You’re going to choke me.”
Those words seemed to penetrate the haze of lust and he pulled back. Eyes wide, he stammered, “Fuck, I-I didn’t mean to?—”
“Not that I’m entirely opp—never mind—”Too soon, far too soon.
“I’m sorry. That was… not my first time. But the first one that…”
“—Was with a man? Yes, that was readily apparent.” I fought to keep the smile from overtaking my swollen lips.
“That felt likethat,” he corrected. His expression reflected none of the irritation of his tone. “And yes, with a man. And itcertainly… confirmed a few things. One of which is that I should not have encouraged you to learn to tease.”
“Tell me more about this confirmation,” I instructed, my hand reaching for my tangled cravat. His eyes followed my movement as I found one loop and pulled the end through and free. Then they snapped to meet my gaze, heat darkening them to a stormy navy blue—just barely visible in the moonlight. I found where the fabric looped back over and tugged it under still one-handed. His throat bobbed as his attention flitted back to my movements.
With my free hand, I made a go-on gesture.
“Can you repeat the question?” he asked, tongue darting out to taste his lower lip.
He’d managed to knot the cravat quite thoroughly. And perhaps I was drawing this display out—just a little. But I couldn’t recall the last time a man looked at me with such hunger. It was flattering, and more than a little arousing.
“You said our kiss confirmed some things. I want to hear about the things.”
He blinked slowly, still distracted by my hand that was still untangling the last loops of the cravat.
“Why are you undoing your cravat?” he asked, entirely disregarding my question.
“It was in your way. And strangled by my own neckerchief in Grayson’s yard isn’t the way I’d like to go.”
“I don’t—” He cut himself off, straightening. “I’m not entirely clear on what the objection is. Is it the strangulation itself, the object used for it, the location, or the owner of the location that displeases you?”
“All of it, to varying extents. And you’re dodging my question.”
His lips turned down into what should have been a frown but somehow read as a smile. “Until I met you, I had a suspicion ortwo. But I thought… I wasn’t capable of those feelings, the ones all the poets write about. Or perhaps they were all made up, that… attraction, was just a lie everyone told themselves to get through the day. But when I saw you, I knew that it wasn’t a lie. And just now… I’m positive the rest isn’t a lie either.”
“The rest?” I pressed. Now finished with the cravat, I left the ends to hang loose around my neck. The better for him to grab onto—at least now that the risk of death by overeager lover was mitigated.
He sighed. “The buttons on my falls are sure to give up their efforts any moment now. Are you happy?”
“Yes, very,” I whispered, closing the gap between us once more. It seemed as though whatever mania had overtaken him before was dimmed. But the enthusiasm was still there.
