His eyes popped open.
Itwassilk.
He’d been lying on his side, and at the sudden realisation of where he was, he shoved up to an elbow and immediately regretted it when his lower back twinged. He hissed and flopped back to the mattress. Shit.
A heavy arm landed on his waist and curled him backwards and into the cradle of a long, hot body. “Not yet,” Jackmurmured. His deep, rich voice was huskier than usual, the words blurred and soft.
There was no order or authority in his words. He wasn’t asking, either; it was pure complaint.
Beckett reached back and pushed the arm off him, scooting himself to the edge of the bed and up.
Jack groaned behind him. He’d flopped to his front when Beckett moved, and had his face mashed in the pillows. He muttered something.
“Eh?” Beckett said, hands on hips, staring at that round, fine arse draped in midnight blue silk.
Jack lifted his head all of an inch. “I said, you’re going to be the death of me. I hope you are, anyway. Stay the night?”
Beckett snorted and stalked around the room, picking up his clothes. “Thank you, Your Grace, I will not. Some of us have to be up and workin’ in a matter of hours.” He pulled his breeches up and slipped his shirt over his head.
“I meant to sleep.”
Bollocks he did. “Better in my own bed.”
“Suit yourself.” Jack yawned and dragged the covers down, exposing his naked arse and making Beckett stagger. He’d been standing on one foot tugging on his shoe. The prick had done that on purpose.
Beckett moved over to the side of the bed, sat on it to get his other shoe on, then leaned over Jack, bracing an arm over him and sliding fingers beneath his chin, turning his face to Beckett.
He looked younger. Not young. Younger. His black eyes were slumberous, and he smiled widely. A small dimple flickered at the side of his mouth. Beckett touched it with his thumb.
Jack just watched him.
Beckett leaned down and kissed him. “I’m at your service,” he said gruffly, surprising himself.
Normally, he’d have phrased it differently. Something along the lines of,You want some more of the same, you let me know.
He stood, and glanced back with surprise when Jack caught his wrist. “And I am at yours,” he said
Beckett gave him a small nod, and left.
And that, Beckett realised almost four years later as he lay on the rough but clean sheets of the posting inn, lazily stroking himself and thinking of his beloved, was Jack for you. It had been the perfect thing to say. Sidestepped the chip on Beckett’s shoulder before he could go and let his pride get in the way of a good thing.
His hand now was moving fast, making noises in the quiet of the inn room.
As he continued to work his way towards climax, he indulged himself in more memories of him and Jack together. Their encounters were always rough and exciting.
He thought of Arden—how different it had been with the shy omega, how that unwanted, unknown tenderness had risen in him. How he’d tempered himself. How he’d set aside all the aggression and demand that he and Jack both delighted in, to coax Arden towards pleasure, protecting him while he reached for it, holding him and soothing him while he came down from it.
At least…Beckett’s hand stuttered and the smile on his face fell. He’d been that way the first time.
The second time, he hadn’t been kind.
He hadn’t coaxed Arden. He’d held himself back. He’d given him what he needed, but since he hadn’t managed to make Arden command him, he’d made Arden beg instead. Over and over. Made Arden be the one to reach for him.
He’d been a right arsehole, hadn’t he? Cruel bastard.
Well. His sensual grip turned workmanlike and he jerked himself briskly, no longer in the mood to draw it out. It wasn’t asif he could go back and rewrite things. Good job he was on the way to fixing it.
Instead of thinking about the shock of Arden’s hot tears against Beckett’s fingertips as he’d asked to be held before he ran away, Beckett thought instead of laying Arden down on a soft, warm bed, in a gently lit room. He thought about reassuring him before guiding him into Jack’s arms. He thought about watching his lovers together.
