Emery kissed Paxton, swallowing a muffled groan.
A familiar voice in the hall yanked Emery back from the heady fog overtaking his brain. He broke off the kiss with a gasp, a bubble of hysterical laughter wheezing out of him. Paxton’s eyes were dark, swimming with a mix of mirrored amusement and desire. Emery nudged him away and smoothed his shirt with an efficient sweep, adjusting the pocket watch chain. Paxton’s smile was adorably sheepish, but unapologetic, when Emery looked up from making himself presentable.
They slipped out of the pantry at the same time Aggie exited the kitchen. “There you are!” She latched onto Paxton and tugged him. “Come on, you have to see this.”
Emery was left behind in the wake of Aggie pulling Paxton away, though he didn’t feel abandoned. Tucking his hands into his pockets, Emery went to find another round of champagne before rejoining the party. He crossed paths with a waiter in the empty dining room and plucked two glasses from a tray.
Setting one down on the buffet against the wall, he took the watch from his pocket to check the time. It felt amusingly novel to use his watch instead of his phone.
“That is a beautiful piece.” The soft, lilting voice almost made Emery jump.
Emery spun and faced a woman wearing a gorgeous, ornamental costume. Her skin was powder pale with vivid pink lips and a black lace choker around her neck. Emery guessed from her blue ball gown and the elaborate hairstyle she was meant to be a royal countess.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said with a coy smile. She had a hint of an accent that made Emery wonder if she was from out of town.
“No, it’s fine. I didn’t hear you come in here behind me.” Emery returned her smile with a reassuring one of his own. “That is an incredible costume. It looks professionally done.”
She spread her hands over her voluminous skirts. “It was a gift.”
“Lovely.” Emery sipped his champagne and offered the second glass to the woman.
“Not as lovely as your watch.” She seemed to glide on air with grace as she came around the table, waving off the offered drink. Her attention fixated on the chain of Emery’s pocket watch. “It looks quite antique. You display it proudly.”
“It is. This belonged to my grandfather originally. I believe it was passed down to him.” Emery unhooked the chain from his velvet blazer to present it to her in his palm. “I’m not exactly in costume tonight. I don’t think I’ve seen you around at Charles and Sean’s parties before? I’m Emery Belmont.”
“This is my first time. I just had to come,” she said, still examining Emery’s watch with big blue eyes and an air of hushed reverence. “My name is Emmeline.”
Emery tilted the watch so she could see it better. It emitted warmth in his palm, though it had been nestled in his jacket pocket all night. “Are you a fan of antiques?”
“I recognize fine craftsmanship.” Emmeline straightened and peered at Emery with open curiosity. “I’ve been trying to find you all evening.”
Emery blinked. That was either very forward, or very friendly for someone that didn’t know him. He cleared his throat. “I know Charles and Sean through my friend Grace. She works at the same firm with Charles. Did he mention me to you, or something?”
“No, that wasn’t necessary. I saw your watch and knew right away when you arrived,” Emmeline said. “I would be very grateful if you helped me, Mr. Belmont.”
“What’s wrong?” Emery frowned. There was something off about Emmeline. Nothing about their conversation made much sense in his head. Still, he would find out how to help her. “Are you here alone?”
“Yes, for so long now.” Emmeline sighed, wringing her hands. “But now that you are here, I can find my way.”
“I don’t understand how I factor into all of this. Do you not have a phone with you? The GPS maps app is probably better suited to—”
“There you are. What are you doing in here when everyone’s making eyes at Paxton?” Grace broke the bizarre conversation, silhouetted in the arched entryway that led back to the foyer. She waved her hands impatiently. “Come back to the party. Quit loitering, you look too good in that suit to brood.”
Emery found it rude that Grace interrupted his conversation with Emmeline without acknowledging her.
“It’s fine,” Emmeline murmured. “Go on. There’s still time.”
With a sigh, Emery followed Grace. He put his watch back into place, re-securing it to the button on his blazer.
“What were you doing lurking in the dining room by yourself?” Grace asked. “You shouldn’t leave Paxton by himself for too long. You know how Mitchell’s wife can get. She’ll try to press her fake tits into Paxton’s face.”
Emery halted. He hadn’t been alone. What the hell? Grace was never dismissive of another person like this. There was no way she could’ve missed Emmeline or her elaborate costume.
An uncomfortable knot formed in the pit of Emery’s stomach.
“Er, you know what, you go on,” Emery said, intent on returning to search for Emmeline.
“No, come on! What’s wrong? Is your anxiety flaring?” Grace came to his side and put a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. Her expression melted into concern. “We can sit out back on the deck for some air if you need it.”
Emery shook his head. “It’s not that. Where’d Paxton go?”
“Tied to Aggie’s hip. They’re telling horror stories in homeownership and renovation projects.” Grace’s mouth curved. “Everyone loves Paxton.”
“That’s—good. That’s really good,” Emery said, fighting back the urge to swallow around a tightness in his throat. Who wouldn’t love Paxton? “Did he tell the story about my burst bathroom pipe? Or my kitchen? If they’re competing, I bet he’ll win on my house disasters alone.”
Emery could find Emmeline later. Hopefully she would stay for a while. He returned to the party with Grace.
Paxton and Aggie regaled the guests gathered in the living room, trading off stories about how many mishaps occur once there’s no longer a landlord taking care of things. Paxton spoke with evident pride in his voice as he offered a professional’s perspective on homeownership. Emery watched from across the room, unable to hide a smile. It was easy to see how Paxton and Aggie were fast friends. Emery was relieved Paxton fit into Emery’s life without the supernatural element forcing him to stay near.
A short time later, when Emery went in search of Emmeline, he couldn’t find her. Emery stood alone in the dining room, rubbing his jaw. He supposed she didn’t need his help that badly, or perhaps she had found someone else to give her directions.
“Hey,” Paxton said from the doorway. There was a glint in his eye. He licked his lips. “You ready to get out of here?”
Emery allowed Paxton to distract him. “Partied out? Don’t you want to stay for the Time Warp?”
“Well, that sounds fun and all. But Aggie told me about your catsuit costume, and I was hoping we could get out of here. Do you still have it?”
Instead of the embarrassment Emery had expected if Paxton learned of his costume, a slow heat spread through his body. “First seven minutes in heaven at a party and now you want me to dress up?” Emery chuckled at Paxton’s eagerness. “Grab our coats while I say goodnight to our hosts.”
Emery tracked Charles down.
“Thanks for having us,” Emery said. “We’re going to head out.”
“Leaving so soon? Thanks for coming. Hey—Sean wanted to invite you and your new boyfriend to lunch. Promise me you’ll say yes?” Charles clasped his hands together like a prayer.
Everyone kept calling Paxton his boyfriend.
“We’ll see. Actually, I wanted to ask.” Emery glanced toward the dining room. “I was talking to Emmeline for a few minutes earlier. I think she had you beat for best costume.”
Confusion crossed Charles’s face. “Who?”
“Emmeline,” Emery repeated, brows furrowed. “Pretty girl with a countess costume? She was admiring my pocket watch.”
/> There was no recognition at the name. Charles shrugged. “Maybe someone Sean invited. I didn’t see her all night.”
Emmeline had been impossible to miss in her blue ball gown.
“Okay, well. Goodnight.” Emery cleared his throat and joined Paxton at the front door.
“Hey, did you get to meet Emmeline?” Emery tried, an instinctive curiosity tugging at his senses. “She was the one in the blue dress.”
“I thought her name was Cheryl,” Paxton answered absently, handing Emery’s coat over. “Mitchell’s wife, right?”
“That wasn’t blue, that was plum. No, Emmeline looked like royalty in a ball gown.” Emery shrugged into the coat and opened the door.
“Must’ve missed her, then.” Paxton fished out his keys on their way to his truck. His hand found Emery’s, fingers sliding against Emery’s palm.
Emmeline had said she needed Emery’s help—Emery’s specific help to find her way somewhere. He wrapped his fingers around his pocket watch, the phantom warmth from when he had spoken with her no longer present in the cool metal.
And no one else had seen this woman at the party.
They ended up at Paxton’s place instead of Emery’s, since his neighborhood was a shorter drive from Brookline. Emery took in the apartment with mild interest.
Paxton took his hand and shuffled to the bedroom. There was a framed picture hanging in the hall of Paxton playing lacrosse at Hardwyck. They passed it before Emery saw if he was in the photo.
In the bedroom, Paxton shrugged out of his v-neck jumper, trousers sitting low on his hips. “I’m going to shower.” He hesitated in the doorway, back-lit by the yellow glow after flicking the light on. “Want to join me?”
“Sure.”
Emery answered too quickly, skipping over the fact he never showered with other partners anymore. He swallowed, fighting back unbidden memories of his ex, Sebastian, washing his hair sometimes, if they shared a bath—Emery had loved the feeling of fingers in his hair. Emery cleared his throat and plucked at the cuffs of his velvet sleeves. Paxton wasn’t one of his hookups, but he wasn’t Sebastian either. It left Emery torn.
His momentary hang ups over the intimacy of showering together dimmed as Paxton stepped out of his trousers, tossing them at a chair in the corner where his other jeans and joggers seemed to live, and disappeared into the bathroom to turn on the shower. Lured by the expanse of Paxton’s back tapering into the dimples above his ass, Emery undressed. He stole a hanger from the closet, noting that Paxton had no clear organizational system for his clothes—dress shirts hanging next to a windbreaker and a novelty t-shirt.
“Are you coming?” Paxton called.
“Yes, hang on.” Emery finished fiddling with his outfit and hung it from the closet door when he couldn’t find a hook on the wall.
Steam was filling the bathroom. The tendrils almost seemed to stretch out and wrap around Emery, pulling him further into the misty room to join Paxton. Emery was struck with a bolt of heat when Paxton smiled at him, a slow curve of his mouth that reached into Emery’s chest and squeezed his heart.
The bathroom was modest: a shower-tub combo with a frosted glass door against one of the green tiled walls, radiator with towels draped over it, and a pedestal sink by the toilet with a cup holding a tube of toothpaste and toothbrush to one side.
To distract himself before he got too worked up, Emery shucked off his briefs and stepped into the shower first. As he stood beneath the stream, he looked over the items in Paxton’s shower with a critical sweep. Drugstore brand shaving cream, a purple loofah, generic two-in-one shampoo and conditioner, and a nice looking bar of soap dotted the ledges. Paxton also had a collection of abandoned hair ties and a small bottle of travel lube. The bottle said: The perfect personal shower lubricant! Silicone blend formula for a silky feel, washes off with soap.
Emery raised an eyebrow and picked up the soap, turning it over in his hands under the spray of water. It resembled a confection, the orange shot through with a decorative cream swirl and speckled with crystalized granules of raw sugar and dried herbs. It almost passed for a slice of pie. The soap looked so good that part of Emery had a slight, inexplicable urge to eat it. The soap was tart and aromatic, a burst of tangerine and vanilla filling the shower as soon as he wet it.
Paxton got in the shower behind Emery. His hands skated over Emery’s hips and he fit himself against Emery’s back. Paxton was a wall of warm skin hotter than the shower spray. Emery’s breath hitched as Paxton’s arms wrapped around him. They stood like that beneath the rush of water for a minute.
“You keep lube in your shower?” Emery asked to break the silence.
“Uh, yeah.” Paxton fidgeted. Emery made out the edges of a sheepish expression in his peripheral vision. “It’s an old habit I picked up from living with Brent. It, um. It comes in handy.”
“I’ll bet.” Emery tossed a smirk over his shoulder. “And you skimp on shampoo and shaving cream, but you splurge on body soap.”
Paxton plucked the fancy soap from Emery’s hands. “Are you in here to analyze me?”
“You’re right, this shower is much too cramped to fit a proper sofa in.” Emery made a show of looking around for the perfect spot to place therapy furniture.
“My mamá makes these artsy soaps. This one’s my favorite, so she makes me big batches of it.” Paxton nudged Emery until he turned and swiped the soap over his chest in broad, swirling strokes. The lather built on Emery’s skin, the citrus tang growing stronger. “You’re going to smell like me.”
Emery liked the sound of that, perhaps a little too much. He bit his lip and shifted so Paxton had room to kneel while he washed Emery’s thighs and calves. As he went, he massaged and teased Emery with gentle touches. Emery’s body seemed to captivate Paxton, his slow ministrations pausing to worship at the altar of Emery’s jutting hip, the sparse trail of curls running up to his belly button, a spot on his inner thigh above his left knee, his collarbone. He dropped light kisses on each place he admired.
The soft drag of Paxton’s fingertips on his skin left Emery hot all over.
The attention made him hard, but each time he wanted to take himself in hand, Paxton batted him away. Paxton wouldn’t touch him where Emery wanted him to, either. He skirted around Emery’s erection, dragging suds in his wake.
“Tease,” Emery accused without serious bite.
“Be patient.” Paxton grinned up at Emery from his knees with a crooked grin. “I’m not done yet.”
A shiver ran down Emery’s spine when Paxton directed Emery beneath the spray of water to rinse off. Paxton reached for the shampoo. He paused at Emery’s heavy stare.
“What? Are you going to tell me I can’t wash your hair because this cost me less than two bucks?”
He wanted it, cheap off-brand shampoo be damned. Only, Emery had to remind himself not to bring the shadowy ghosts of his memories into this. Paxton wasn’t Sebastian.
Paxton wouldn’t betray Emery by emotionally manipulating him and then throwing him away. It was a mantra Emery repeated in his head. This is different, this is different, this is different.
Emery inclined his head and let Paxton’s fingers slide into his hair. He couldn’t hold back an appreciative groan when Paxton massaged the soap into his hair, fingertips pressing into his scalp with care. When he tipped Emery’s head up, Paxton’s eyes were heavy-lidded and blazing, piercing through Emery’s defenses. Paxton slid his thumbs along the curve of Emery’s ears and lightly scraped his nails down the back of Emery’s head. Emery’s lips parted in a gasp.
The heat building around them and in him stole his breath away. A hot flush spread from his ears down his neck and across his chest. Paxton drifted close to him, mouth hovering out of reach when Emery tilted his head to kiss him.
“Rinse off.” Paxton’s voice was a throaty rumble that wrapped around Emery’s dick.
As Emery angled his head into the spray and raked his fingers through his hair to clear away the suds, Pax
ton watched, eyes flicking up and down Emery’s body. He bit his lip and helped Emery rinse off faster. Their lips met in a soft kiss that turned hungry. Emery traded open-mouthed kisses with him beneath the gush of warm water and steam. He fumbled for the soap and dragged it over Paxton’s shoulders with none of the same grace or patience as Paxton.
A bubble of laughter echoed in the bathroom when Emery dropped the soap in his rush to wash Paxton, and again when they bumped heads. When Paxton finished rinsing, Emery caught him around the waist and maneuvered him against the wall, capturing his lips once more. Paxton hummed into the kiss. He wrapped Emery in a tight embrace and they made out languidly. Their erections rubbed together in a delicious slide of wet, heated skin and both of them made appreciative sounds of pleasure.
Emery’s hands were a greedy blur moving over Paxton’s skin, wanting to get him back. He pinched Paxton’s nipples while rocking his hips against him. Paxton gave a gratifying shudder, his hands flexing where he gripped Emery’s hair. Skimming his fingers down Paxton’s side, Emery reached around and dragged his fingers between Paxton’s cheeks. He grinned when Paxton’s knees nearly gave out and he bucked his hips.
“Turn around,” Emery said against Paxton’s lips.
He grabbed the small bottle of lube from the shelf while Paxton leaned against the shower wall, one forearm braced to support himself.
“This is a good look on you,” Emery observed, toying with the bottle. “Waiting for me like that—it’s hot.”
“Come on,” Paxton begged raggedly, reaching to stroke his erection. “If you don’t stop talking and get back over here, I’m going to take care of this myself.”
“Don’t you dare.” Emery gave his ass a playful pinch. “Weren’t you the one preaching patience?”
“Patience has run out.” The edge in Paxton’s voice was an alluring, heady sound that Emery was quickly becoming addicted to. What else would it take to bring out that edge, Emery wondered.
“Funny, I seem to have found some.”
The click of the bottle cap popping open was loud, even with the rush of water. He palmed Paxton’s hip as he drizzled the silky lube over his cock. Emery set the bottle down within reach and slicked himself with a few strokes of his hand.
All Hallows Eve Interlude (Telltale Ghosts Book 2) Page 2