Page 55 of Thief Taker

Leaning closer, Cole murmured, “If you hadn’t walked into the study that night, I’d have gutted Marlborough. And don’t imagine I’m joking. I can handle myself.” A breath of laughter tickled Kit’s ear. “But I’d rather handle you. Kit.”

Jesus, the way he said his name! The threat, the knowledge, the heat in that single syllable… It was too much. It overwhelmed all his better judgement.

Turning around, Kit fisted Cole’s shirt in both hands and pulled him in, breathing hard. They stared at each other, on the precipice of disaster. And together they jumped.

Cole’s fingers tangled into Kit’s hair, tugging at it as he nipped hungrily at the hinge of his jaw. His ear.

“Christ.”

Then, Cole pushed his hands under Kit’s coat, dragging it off his shoulders and flinging it to the floor. Freed, Kit surged in to give as good as he got, getting his hands beneath Cole’s damned teasing shirt and onto his glorious body. “Take it off,” he growled. “Take off your shirt.”

Cole gave a wicked smile, pulled the thing over his head and cast it aside.

“Dear God,” Kit breathed at the sight of him, and then he was pushing him back hard against the wall. Just like in the alley in St. Giles, only this time he let his hands roam everywhere. “I want you,” he growled into Cole’s neck, into the space beneath his ear. “I want you,” he breathed against the solid muscle of his shoulder. “Christ Almighty, I want you.”

“Yes,” Cole hissed, grabbing Kit’s hips and rolling his own forward until their cocks ground together.

The jolt of sensation was violent. “Sweet Jesus, that’s—Ahh!”

Cole growled against his ear, biting at the lobe as he reached down and unbuttoned Kit’s breeches, fingers fumbling and urgent. “Stop talking. Just let—” The word ended with a gasp when Cole touched his cock, stroking gently, his head lolling forward to rest against Kit’s shoulder. “Jesus, Kit,” he breathed, the words all hot breath against his skin. “You…you’re so… God damn you.”

Kit could do nothing but shudder against him, his touch dizzying. “Yes,” he whimpered, hips jerking forward into Cole’s fist. “God, yes …”

Suddenly, Cole pulled back, fumbling in the pocket of his breeches. His hands were unsteady as he pulled out a small bottle of oil. “I want to fuck you,” he said bluntly, unstopping the bottle and pouring oil into one hand. “Can I?”

Breathless, Kit nodded and Cole smiled. Not just smiled. Grinned. Bright as sunshine. His joy ignited something in Kit’s own chest, and suddenly he was full of heat and light and life.

He laughed, startling them both.

And Cole dragged him in for a thorough, smiling kiss. Then, with his other hand, he began to slick Kit’s cock with the oil. The sensation was so intense his knees buckled and only Cole’s strong arm kept him upright. He laughed. “Lord, Cole, you know what you’re doing…”

“Elias,” he murmured against Kit’s lips. “I’m just Elias.”

“Elias…” Kit closed his eyes, understanding. “Then I’m just Kit.”

For now, for these moments, everything else was stripped away.

“Kit,” he breathed and for a moment they hovered there, together, lips softly touching.

Then Cole—Elias—took one of Kit’s hands and brought it to his cock, letting their fingers tangle there for a moment.

The sensation was sinful and Kit was already close, but the sight of Elias unbuttoning his own breeches, pushing them down, was almost enough to finish him off. “God Almighty,” Kit hissed and had to let go of himself for fear of spending too soon. The firm length of Elias’s cock, heavy and thick as he slicked it, the nest of dark hair, the planes of his bare stomach, were all there for the taking. So urgent, so exciting. Kit’s heart vaulted in his chest, its tether stretching thin.

Elias reached for him, turning him around and pressing him forward onto the desk.

And, yes, that’s what this was: a tupping, a glorious, astonishing tupping. Nothing more.

Refusing to regret that, Kit breathed hard as Elias’s hands ran across his arse. His body trembled with how much he wanted this. Elias trembled too; Kit could feel it when he slid a hand between Kit’s legs.

“Jesus!” He gasped at the gentle, insistent pressure of Elias’s fingers.

“Yes?” Elias growled, close to Kit’s ear.

Kit pressed his face against one arm, braced on the desk. “Yes,” he groaned, half swallowing the word. “God, yes.”

Elias dipped his head, dropped a kiss—disguised as a nip—onto Kit’s shoulder, and pressed his fingers inside his body.

God, but the oil made it easy.