In the meantime, Cassian decided to scrutinize the man more closely. He seemed to be in his early or mid-twenties, with pretty blue eyes and a full bottom lip and a softness in his face, his cheeks practically pinchable, though his face wasn’t particularly round. He seemed fit as well—his physique relatively lean, save for those slightly cherubic cheeks.
Barely buried desire began to stir in Cassian’s chest. It manifested as a pulsating heat that slowly coursed through him. Rather than try to extinguish the flickering flame, Cassian let himself imagine what it might be like to feel the man’s body beneath his and then pictured taking the man’s lower lip into his mouth and sucking on it for a while.
If Cassian had been a younger and more insecure man, he might have felt unnerved by these images, not to mention the heat that was now swirling within him. But Cassian had long since made peace with the fact that he found men sexually exciting, even more so than he found women. And even though Cassian wasn’t sure whether or not such a thing was common, he knew that as long ashe kept these fantasies as fantasies, there would be no consequences as a result of having them.
Cassian was still staring at the man when one of the train stewards came up beside him.
“Good morning, sir. Would you like a menu?” the steward asked.
“Only a coffee,” Cassian replied. “Cream, no sugar.”
“Of course. I’ll fetch that for you.” He walked over to the man in the other booth. “How’s the tea?”
The man looked up and smiled. “Delicious.”
“Do you need anything else?”
He shook his head. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
Once the steward left, Cassian and the man locked eyes, and Cassian saw his opportunity to try to engage him in conversation.
“Are you particularly worried about losing your luggage?” he asked with a small smirk.
Hopefully that would bait the man into talking about the incident on the platform. Or at least the aftermath of it.
“Hm?” the man asked before his eyes flickered with understanding. “Oh, no. It makes sense that you’d think that, though.” He huffed a light laugh. “I tried to catch the earlier train—the one for the second- and third-class passengers—but one of the men who was taking people’s tickets insisted—erroneously—that I ought to take this one. I’m a first-class saloon steward, see, for the White Star Line. Truthfully, I was meant to travel to Southampton last week. But I asked my employer for more time in London. So now I’m here on the first-class passenger train, only I’m not a first-class passenger. Just a crew member. Hence me not wanting to intrude in one of the passenger cars. I thought I’d be better off in here for the train ride.”
Cassian furrowed his brow. He’d beenwrong.
“Oh,” he said simply.
“I hope I’m not bothering you.”
Holding up a hand, Cassian curtly shook his head.
Just then, the steward came back with Cassian’s coffee. As soon as Cassian glimpsed the black liquid swirling in the cup, he heaved an irritated sigh.
“Excuse me, I requested cream.”
“Apologies, sir, I’ll be back in a moment,” the man spluttered before hurrying away.
After the train car steward was gone, Cassian looked back over at the man in the booth and found himself rolling his eyes—a habit of his whenever he corrected one of the members of his household staff in front of someone else. He only remembered that the other man was a steward as well, rather than one of his business partners or family friends, when it was too late.
The other man laughed softly.
“Cream, no sugar,” he said with the sweetest, most boyish smile that made Cassian’s cheeks warm. “I’ll have to remember that. I’d rather not earn myself one of those eye rolls on the ship.”
Cassian pursed his lips to contain his own burgeoning smile. Before he could think better of it, he blurted out an equally teasing remark in return.
“Yes, well, I’ve been told I’m not an easy man to please.”
The man’s eyebrows shot up.
Only then did Cassian realize thesecondpotential meaning behind his statement. Heat crept up the back of his neck, and he tried to remind himself that his somewhat sordid thoughts were his and his alone. Obviously this random stranger was not privy to them.
“Ah, well, I have plenty of experience withthosetypes of men,” the man replied equally as playfully.
Cassian froze, his stomach suddenly topsy-turvy, his cheeks and neck still on fire. Dear God, the man wasn’t flirting with him, washe? No. No, he couldn’t be. Cassian’s earlier remark, while perhaps containing some secretly salacious undertones, had been a perfectly normal one. And so, the man’s reply had to have been normal as well. It was only Cassian’s inclinations that were coloring the man’s statement in such a socially unsavory manner.
