Sebastian’s cheeks flushed. Hopefully it was dim enough Wesley wouldn’t notice. “We’re not going to talk about that.”
“Why would I ever agree to not talk about it?” Wesley hadn’t stopped looking amused; he’d almost certainly noticed the blush. “I’m not upset with you. I gave you full permission to use your magic on me however you like.”
“The magic that knocked you over last night?” Sebastian said pointedly.
“The magic that flared up to protect me from arestaurant,” Wesley countered, even more pointedly. “I’m also not afraid of you, even with that brooch. The offer stands.”
Sebastian hesitated. He hadn’t used magic on Wesley on purpose since their first night together.
Hewantedto. Wesley was so good at sweeping every thought from his mind; he wanted Wesley pinned down and coming apart, so lost in the moment that addictions and harsh thoughts couldn’t reach him. A mind like Wesley’s didn’t turn off easily, but Sebastian could make it happen.
Except, of course, for the brooch that made his magic too strong and unpredictable. If he could just get better control of it—
Sebastian sighed. Maybe he’d get there. Someday. “Let’s go call the inn, yes?”
Chapter Eight
The cab pulled up at their hotel not soon enough for Wesley’s tastes. They were going to call this damn Horseman Inn in Tarrytown, talk to Arthur and Jade, straighten the whole mess out. And then Wesley could get back to the only thing he actually wanted to do with his time, which was fuck Sebastian until he was bliss-drunk and loopy in Wesley’s arms.
What would it take to get him to lose control of his magic again?
Wesley quickened his pace.
But as they crossed through the lobby, a voice called, “Fine!” Major Langford stepped into their path. “Glad I caught you.”
For fuck’s sake. Of course they’d been stopped by one of the only people Wesley couldn’t bring himself to tell to fuck off. “Langford,” he said, with a curt nod. “I didn’t expect to see you again. What are you doing here?”
Christ, he hoped Langford hadn’t actually moved to their hotel. Wesley was perfectly entitled to have anyone he liked in his room at any hour and not explain himself, but Langford was sharp and endlessly suspicious. He did not need to be turning those eyes and suspicions on Wesley’s paranormal lover.
“Planning a tea party,” Langford said sarcastically. “What do you think? I’m in New York on business, and in this lobby because I’m waiting for you.” His eyes flicked past Wesley to Sebastian. “You and your friend, apparently.”
Sebastian’s shift in his posture was subtle, but once again loud and clear to someone as attuned to his body as Wesley now was. Langford might be suspicious of Sebastian, but Sebastian clearly didn’t trust him right back.
Wesley folded his arms. “And why are you waiting for me?”
Langford gestured to the hall. “Concierge says the smoking lounge is down there. Join me, won’t you?”
No, Wesley wanted to say, but Sebastian cleared his throat. “Lord Fine, the major did say he was waiting for you.” His voice was soft but pointed, obviously thinking of the typewritten letter so clandestinely delivered to Wesley’s door.
Not really Langford’s style, but Wesley supposed it was worth asking. “Very well,” he said shortly. “Indulge us, won’t you, Sebastian?”
Major Langford’s lips thinned. “Why would your companion join us?”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Wesley said.
“I don’t know,” Major Langford said. “I don’t know anything about him, because all you gave us was a name.”
You don’t need to know anything elsewas on the tip of Wesley’s tongue, but again he held it back. “I’m considering some Caribbean investments, perhaps imports. Sebastian is advising.”
Major Langford’s eyes flicked over Sebastian’s stylish clothes, then moved from the flat cap to linger on his face, the long-lashed eyes and soft lips. “Advising.”
Sebastian didn’t seem the least bit surprised to be the subject of a hostile stare, which implied a lot of things about how people treated him and Wesley didn’t care for any of them. “I grew up in San Juan.”
“How exotic,” Major Langford said.
“He’s an American in America; we’re exotic foreigners from a distant island,” Wesley said, a little sharply. “Let’s have that smoke already.”
A few minutes later, they were ensconced in the dimly lit lounge—mixed-gender, how very modern of the hotel—sitting in a trio of black leather chairs on the far side by the wood-paneled walls.
