by Clare London
Matt stilled. “Too fast?”
“No! I mean, not like that. Never.” Joel meant it—something about Matt brought his senses to light faster, fiercer, and more vibrantly than anything else ever had. Yet it didn’t scare him as too much, too soon. He felt he’d known this man for months, not just weeks. Theirs hadn’t been a usual courtship. They’d got to know each other working over a design table, wrangling plans on Project Palace. Arguing. Challenging.
“Tell me honestly. You want this?” Matt growled out the words, but Joel caught the flash of fear in his eyes.
“We’re both honest. Sometimes too much,” Joel gasped in reply. “Of course I do.”
Matt gave a low, shaky chuckle. “The honesty’s been part of our problem. But right now? You can’t doubt I do too.” He claimed Joel’s mouth again, hungry, demanding. Whatever his words, his body couldn’t lie—his cock was growing even harder, his throat pulsing with every swallow, his chest rising and falling quickly with his shallow breath.
It was the most thrilling thing Joel had ever felt.
“What about Gary? Caro?” Joel was trying to remember this wasn’t his house, this wasn’t a private hotel room. Matt’s family lived here. They’d all been sitting in the kitchen only a short while ago….
“Out at the far end of the farm.” Matt’s voice was hoarse. He ran his hand down Joel’s back and grabbed a handful of his arse. “They’ll be gone for an hour at least. Looking for an excuse?”
“No!” Joel said sharply. “Are you?”
Matt just laughed. His eyes were pools of dark, eager need.
Joel had never seen such a response from a lover, never been so keyed up. Matt pushed him backward, until his calves hit the bed frame. It wasn’t an aggressive move—Joel felt no fear—but everything Matt did carried an edge of anger, of unfettered passion. Joel welcomed it. As he tumbled back onto the mattress, he kept hold of Matt’s arms, pulling the man down with him.
This was going to happen. And right here, right now!
Chapter Fifteen
THEY embraced, kissing, until Matt’s mouth slid from Joel’s and nestled in the juncture of Joel’s neck and shoulder. God. Would he bite? Joel’s breath hitched, and he ran his hands down Matt’s forearms, ready to grip his wrists if he needed to give guidance or warning. At the same time, his head went back instinctively, baring his throat.
But Matt showed a restraint Joel wasn’t sure he had himself. Matt’s nip grazed the sinews, but he didn’t pounce or hurt. His tongue laved at Joel’s flesh until Joel whimpered. He let go of Matt and stretched out on the bed, hands fisting into the sheets. Matt slid slowly down Joel’s body, his teeth scraping over Joel’s nipple, his tongue lapping the light hairs gathered down between strong pecs, his whole face nuzzling the taut belly, his nose nudging into Joel’s navel. Joel reached a hand to Matt’s head, but Matt shook him off.
“Keep those hands up there.”
For a second, Joel tensed. Was this going to be another power struggle? The idea both irritated and aroused him. Then Matt’s breath teased the sensitive skin on the underside of Joel’s belly, and the tension slipped into nerves. Joel was ticklish, really ticklish, and especially down there.
Don’t laugh! Joel begged himself.
Matt must have felt Joel’s stomach clench, because he chuckled. “Hush,” he murmured against Joel’s thigh, his lips moving even lower. He slid his fingers under Joel’s balls, stroking the softer skin, weighing them in his palm.
“Touch me,” Joel forced out through gritted teeth. “More!”
“Patience.” Matt’s voice had a low, caressing tone Joel had never heard before.
“No! Not now, not like this. I can’t—”
Matt’s hand tightened on Joel’s thigh, pausing Joel’s protest. “You’re not calling the shots. You’re not my boss here, today.”
“I know that, I just need….” Joel’s voice fractured into a long, low moan as Matt shifted back up the bed, reaching for another kiss. Joel grabbed tightly, afraid in some strange, inexplicable way that Matt would escape him. Every movement, every sensation, had the pure jolt of pleasure as from a dream, but was so much more vivid, more sensual, more sharply vibrant. Matt’s smell was in his nose, his muscles tense under Joel’s hands, his moans muffled against Joel’s neck, as they kissed and caressed each other.
The sex started almost lazily. Matt folded his broad hand possessively around their cocks, holding them together, letting sweat and precome ease the way as he stroked up and down.
“Better?” he murmured.
“Oh God. Yes.” Joel gasped. The stroking got a little faster and became more of a pump. He arched against Matt, trying to anchor himself to thrust harder into Matt’s fist.
“Oh Jesus.” Matt’s voice was ragged. The words became mere sounds. “Oh, Joel.”
Joel had never heard Matt say his name in just that way. It was a moan, it was a plea. It held both desire and a gentle fondness.
“Uhn.” Joel struggled to form a coherent sentence. He jerked on the bed, matching thrust for thrust with Matt, his thighs sliding against Matt’s in their combined sweat, his lower arm trapped beneath the pair of them and his upper arm tense as he gripped Matt’s wrist, guiding and encouraging Matt as he brought them both to climax. “I’m going to….”
“I know, I know.” Matt sounded stripped bare, not just physically. Joel leaned into Matt’s neck, trying to reach his mouth, to kiss him, to murmur inspiration, reassurance, whatever Matt needed—
“Fuck!” Matt’s body jerked and his fist tightened. All the shared rhythm was lost, and they flailed on the mattress. The headboard thumped against the wall. The nails on Matt’s free hand scraped over Joel’s hip, and the pillows behind his head went spinning onto the floor.
Joel couldn’t reply, couldn’t speak. His mouth was dry, his breath trapped, and his orgasm uncoiled from his groin, rich, overwhelming, and completely uncontrollable. His shoulders tightened, and with a yelp he came, without any chance to warn Matt. But Matt was coming too. Joel could feel the throb and kick of their cocks as they spilled together. The air was filled with the sweet, heady smell of seed, and Joel’s fingers were suddenly covered in it. Matt had cried out something, but Joel couldn’t hear it over the pounding in his ears and his own harsh panting.
They stilled as one. The headboard creaked behind them. The top sheet rustled and slid over the side of the bed into a crumpled heap of fabric on the floor.
Somewhere in the far distance, a dog barked once, then was quiet.
They lay on the bed for several minutes. Joel was waiting for his breathing to settle, for his heart to stop thudding. He could feel the come cooling on his hand and belly, but he didn’t let go of Matt’s hand—he didn’t want to. With a sigh, he nestled against Matt’s chest, and after a brief hesitation, Matt’s fingers carded aimlessly through his hair.
There was another bark, this time from the landing.
Matt snorted. “That’s Pestle. I left her in her basket in the kitchen, but she must have followed me back up here. Lucky I shut the bedroom door behind me.”
“Is she going to go for me when I try to leave?” Joel quipped.
Matt laughed—a relaxed, sexy sound. His other arm tightened around Joel. “Leaving so soon?”
“God, not right this minute. I doubt I could make my legs work properly.” The touch and smell of Matt’s skin teased him, full of warmth, soothing his tiredness with easy comfort. “And I don’t want to go at all, to be honest, except—”
“Work calls. I know.”
“I mean, if I’d known….” Joel let that sentence trail off. How could he have known he and Matt would end up on Matt’s bed together, having had sex? Who would have imagined it for the wildest second?
“Caught us both by surprise, I guess.”
“A bad surprise?” Joel was shocked at how vulnerable he felt.
“No,” Matt said, so softly Joel barely heard him. “A bloody good one.”
“For me
too. And we’re both such honest people… so it must be true.”
“Yeah.” Matt chuckled, then yawned. He rolled onto his back and yawned again. “You wore me out. It’s been a while since I had that much fun with another man.”
For me too. It was welcome proof that Matt had wanted and enjoyed this as much as Joel had. He sat up, moving slowly and stiffly. The hot shower had been great, but the climbing over the dig, then falling… and then sex—all exercises that used different muscles from Joel’s regular trips to the Mayfair gym.
“I have a call booked with the prince’s private secretary tonight. I’ll just make it home in time.”
Matt cleared his throat. “You won’t call like that?”
“Like what?”
“That look….” Matt waved his hand to encompass Joel’s naked body, sat carelessly on the edge of the mattress, a pile of discarded bedlinen at his feet. “That’s for me, not for sharing.”
Joel’s face heated fast. “Well, I need to be back at the office when they call, with the design portfolio in front of me. But… thanks.”
“For bringing us both off?”
It was Joel’s turn to snort. “Thank you for the day. For sharing the dig. Though, God, Teresa was right. It really is—”
“A dirty business?” Matt’s pupils were dilated. It made his look very dark, very fierce. Very sexy. “And just look, we made ourselves messy again.”
Joel’s heart beat faster at Matt’s expression. He scratched gently at the dried come on his belly. “If I had time to take another shower, maybe you’d join me.” Matt’s breathing had tightened. His hand hovered at his groin, his fingers stroking his cock. He looked ready to go again soon. Joel’s whole body lit up at the thought. When Matt reached for him, Joel went willingly back into his arms.
They lay back down in the bed, their kisses less desperate but just as eager. Joel wanted to explore all of Matt’s body, longed to turn him over onto his front and run his tongue all the way down Matt’s spine to the dip at the top of his buttocks—
Then the dog barked again, and it was answered this time by a second, deeper sound.
“That’ll be Mortar, Gary’s other home dog.” Matt groaned. “They’re back already.” There was no mistaking the disappointment and frustration in his voice. He glanced at Joel, color staining his cheeks. “Look. This was really good. Maybe when we’re back in London, we can…?”
“Yes,” Joel said. “Please.” He knew what Matt was trying to say, and he wanted it too. More of this, more of Matt. So much more!
Matt waggled his eyebrows, his expression unmistakably relieved. “My people can contact your people?”
Joel laughed. “I’ll have to check with your boss.”
And for that brief moment, before they both had to get dressed, Joel had to drive himself back to London and Matt had to settle to supper with his family—for that lovely, rich, precious time, they laughed companionably together.
Chapter Sixteen
AND yet, when they were both back in London, things went on hold. Maybe Matt should have expected it, when he knew how busy they all were at Starsmith and how much was at stake with Project Palace. And once the official announcement was made, they ran a daily gauntlet of journalists and photographers at the Starsmith office. But it was frustrating as all hell.
By Wednesday, he was itching to touch Joel again. The long days with the design team, with sketches and folders of the realized design growing fatter by the hour, with neglected coffee growing cold in its pot… throughout it all, Matt’s attention returned again and again to his boss. If Joel was in the room, Matt found it difficult not to search him out, to follow him at all times with vigilant eyes and ears. He liked watching the confident way Joel moved, the collaborative way he directed his staff, the charming way he smiled and laughed. Matt’s whole mind shot to full alert if Joel called him over to discuss anything. His whole body goose bumped if Joel stood close by, looking over Matt’s shoulder at the latest plans. And if Joel wasn’t in the room…? Matt found himself waiting for when he would return.
That session in the farmhouse had been so very, very hot, and Matt had been so desperate for Joel, it had taken his breath away. He’d been fooling himself since the first time they met, thinking he could or should stay away from further involvement. Joel had sparked something in him that hadn’t been dampened by his initial hostility, and hadn’t waned with the pressures of working professionally together. Joel Sterling was a bright, clever, mature colleague—and the hottest man Matt had ever touched.
Yet they hadn’t even kissed again since then.
Of course, Joel had to find time to manage other Starsmith projects as well. And now Matt was in additional demand himself. Joel explained to the team that the gifts would be based on the small Roman pot that Matt had found at his dig. It was Matt’s inspiration, therefore Matt’s place to lead the design and production. That was thrilling enough and placed him right back into the thick of the jewelry and precious-metal world he’d once loved. But it meant always being surrounded by people when he drew, talked, argued, and explained. Even at the end of the day, he never seemed to find Joel at the same stage. Either Joel was away from the office, or he was in the middle of a transatlantic conference call, or he had commitments with the rest of Starsmith management.
Jesus, when did Joel ever get time of his own? Matt had always imagined Joel Sterling was a tough businessman, a hard worker by day, his own master at night in his posh flat. But Matt now realized Joel never saw his bloody flat for more than five hours at a time.
Or was Joel avoiding being alone with Matt?
All morning, Matt had been working himself into a confused, worried, scratchy mood about the whole thing, until Joel entered the boardroom and came straight over to him. When he put his hand on Matt’s shoulder, the pleasure spiked like an arrow down through Matt’s chest. He turned to meet Joel’s smile and what might be an extra sparkle in the man’s eyes.
“I’m going to the workshops in an hour’s time. Wondered if you’d like to come along?”
“Yeah. Love to.” Matt leaned back against Joel, into his touch. He only just held back from sighing.
Joel slid his hand off Matt’s shoulder almost reluctantly. Maybe he was feeling the spark too. “Great. Meet you in reception.”
Teresa raised her head from the spreadsheet she was working on. “You want me to come too? Addam will probably say he’s too busy.”
“Addam will probably say you should let them go on their own” came Addam’s low drawl from where he was examining swathes of velvet padding material. “I don’t think they’re asking for company.”
“What?” Teresa frowned, looking between Addam and her boss. Then she flushed. “Oh. Oh, I see. Yes, no problem, I’ll stay here, then.”
Matt frowned too. What were those smirks about? Someone gave a quiet chuckle over by the coffee machine, but when he turned to stare, the group of design assistants clustered around it were furiously absorbed in a piece of paper one was holding. Too furiously for it to be genuine, Matt reckoned.
Sudden suspicion hit. People were talking about him—him and Joel! But how could they possibly know what they’d done, what Matt was hoping they’d do again? The kisses, the touches, the virtual electricity that fizzed in Matt whenever Joel came near. His need for Joel’s company, for his approval, for his attention. His desire to give Joel that same attention back, both in and out of bed. Did any of that show on his face? Was he expressing openly how he felt about Joel Sterling, how it had changed since that first, strong enmity and the reluctance to work together? Even though Matt wasn’t sure himself what those feelings were becoming. He just craved being with Joel. He loved it.
Love? Jesus.
Was that what this was? He’d never been in love before. He had no idea how to measure or manage this overwhelming need, this increasing delight in another man’s company. No, it surely couldn’t be love, not this bumpy, ragged, disturbing, needy feeling. Love didn’t arrive thi
s inexplicably, this fast, this unexpectedly.
Did it?
THE visit to the goldsmith’s in a side street around the back of Mayfair was fascinating. Matt had been to a goldsmith’s before, of course, when he had the Anubis Collection at Barth Gems. No way would he have trusted anyone to create real-life examples of his design without his supervision! But the Starsmith setup was something else. The company they used was independent, but Joel explained on the way over that it was one of Starsmith’s most regular and trusted contractors. The workshop was still a rough-looking place, with scarred benches and a floor that must need continual brushing to sweep up the metal shavings. A pall of heat hung over one side of the room from the firing oven, and the tang of hot metal tickled Matt’s nostrils from the moment he stepped inside.
Joel introduced him to one of the senior goldsmiths. “Lloyd, how are the prototypes going?”
Lloyd was in his fifties, wiry and sharp-featured, with a smile that barely creased his lips though it shone in his eyes. He was obviously delighted to see Joel. Matt assumed he enjoyed working on Starsmith designs. “We’ve made the molds for the pot, in several sizes. It’s working well.”
“No issues with security? The palace insists on complete confidentiality.”
Lloyd shook his head emphatically. “We’ve worked many times on high-profile projects, as you know, and never had any problems.”
Matt clenched his fists, trying to keep his impatience in check. “Can I see?”
“Matt found the original Roman pot,” Joel explained to Lloyd with a smile.
Lloyd nodded at Matt, interest darkening his expression. “I know you. The Barth boy, right?”
Matt flushed. “Yes. But I don’t think we’ve met before—”
Lloyd barked a laugh. “It’s a small industry, boy. We work for very many jewelers, and we know what’s out there in the market. I wished we could have made some of the Anubis Collection for your company.”