Arthur gently cleared his throat. “Everything will be fine. We’ll find a way to get that ring off—”
“Getting the ring off isn’t gonna change your ex being a real fucking lord.”
“Well—no—but surely the ring is more pressing?”
Rory groaned again. It was, or it should’ve been, but hearing Arthur had last been with a man titled Lord Fine... Rory could still see Ellis looming over him at Coney Island, could still hear his mocking Southern drawl.I’m trying to figure out why Ace is slumming with you. I don’t care that Ace’s got a taste for men, but it used to begoodtaste.
“All your exes are classy like you, aren’t they?”
“Who’s made you think that?” Arthur said sharply.
“Your pal Ellis.”
“Ellis?You can’t possibly be taking his words to heart. He would have let Brooklyn drown.”
“Maybe, but he knows you and he’s right, isn’t he?” Rory ran a hand over his curls. “I’m not your usual style?”
“You’re a paranormal antiques dealer who sees visions of magical pasts. There’s nothingusualabout you.”
Rory rolled his eyes and lifted his head. “You know what I mean.” The Cadillac had just turned south on Central Park West, the dark park on the left, streets passing on the right. “You ever kept a fella around who didn’t have dough or fancy manners like yours?”
Arthur glanced at him. “Do you really want me to start listing my former lovers?”
“No,”Rory blurted, chest tightening. “I just wanna know if you’ve ever been with someone like me before.”
“There’s never been someone like you,” Arthur said quietly. “But that’s the point. Isn’t it?”
Oh.
They rode in silence for blocks, Rory stealing glances at Arthur, his heart beating too fast.
“The way you’re looking at me should be illegal,” Arthur murmured, as they passed the big history museum Rory’d always wanted to visit. “An outrageous distraction.”
“I’m trying to keep from starting a storm,” Rory said, jaw tight. “But I don’t know what the wind’s gonna do if I don’t get my hands on you.”
Arthur took a sharp breath. He swerved the car over to idle at the curb, a block up from his building. “I am dying to have you in my flat tonight.”
Then why had they stop—oh. Rory bit his lip. “But we can’t make a habit of going in together late at night. Doormen’ll notice.”
Arthur’s torn expression said Rory had nailed it. “We can probably still get away with it tonight. I have enough guests.”
“Not guests who look like me.”
“Ilikethe way you look.”
“I don’t even got a hat right now,” Rory said, but that had made him smile. “I get it, okay? If you keep bringing the same scruffy fella over, people are gonna start talking.” He pursed his lips. “Delivery door? Staff stairs?”
“There will still be security, especially at night.” Arthur rubbed his forehead. “I’m certain tenants still use those entries for exactly this purpose—”
“But they’re probably sneaking dolls in, not fellas, and they don’t have brothers gearing up for a spotlight.” Rory pursed his lips. “Guess you can’t carry me through the lobby like it’s the woods.”
Arthur snorted. “You hated that anyway.”
“I never said I hated—” Rory chomped down his lip, too late. Arthur’s eyebrow was up. Rory huffed and rolled his eyes. “I didn’thateit,” he grudgingly admitted, because if Arthur thought Rory didn’t want something, he’d never do it again. “I mean, I like your muscles.” He wet his lips. “’Specially when you use ’em on me.”
The heat between them kicked up another degree, enough that Rory was surprised they weren’t fogging the glass and drawing the attention of any passerby.
“Is that right?” Arthur’s voice was taut and low enough to send shivers over Rory’s skin. “Well, if the universe would give us so much as a single moment in private, I would be happy to oblige. I would do some very good things to you.” He looked forward again, jaw tight. “Or some very bad ones.”
