by March, Ava
“I don’t care about the game. Don’t do that again, Will. Don’t make me worry your pride is leaving you with an empty stomach, or that you’re spending all your coins on mine.”
“I have plenty of money. I can spare a few for you.”
“Yet you still live in a room where you need to block the door before you go to sleep?” Will’s room was a step above the variety they had once shared, but it was a small step.
“Because I choose to save my money and not spend it on a fancy hotel. The room provides a roof over my head. That’s all that matters. My apologies if it wasn’t up to your current standards.”
“Stop being an arse.” Together for barely a day, and already they were arguing again. “I worry about you, Will.”
“And as I told you before, you needn’t bother.”
Eyes narrowed and body strung tight with resolve, Will held Jack’s gaze. The man was all hard edges, inside and out. The sharp line of his nose, the crisp cut of his jaw, a core of hardened steel. He was a product of what life had dealt him. Tough, resourceful and unwilling to go down without a considerable fight.
But their argument had nothing to do with one of them defeating the other.
A long sigh whooshed from Jack’s chest. “I do worry and you can’t stop me. Hell, I can’t stop myself. Even when I’m in Hampshire, I think about you. Wonder if you are safe.”
Two plates of kippers with hunks of freshly baked bread were set before them, along with the requested coffee for Will.
Even though Jack’s stomach rumbled in anticipation, he ignored the food. “Are you really saving your money?”
A curt “Yes” was all the answer he received.
“Why?”
Will finally set down his cards. The view out the window once again drew his attention. “I don’t intend to remain in London forever.”
A desire Jack could well understand. “Where will you go?”
“To the country. I want a property of my own. Every penny I win, every penny I earn, every penny I don’t spend, puts me closer to leaving this godforsaken Town.” Even though he spoke quietly, the strength of his conviction rang loud and clear.
“How long have you been saving?”
“Years. Almost there, too.”
Jack nodded. “Very good to hear.” And it was. He hated knowing Will was living in that room. Hated knowing that knife blade was the only thing protecting Will throughout the night. “When you leave London, will you send me a note?”
“Why?” Will asked, glancing to Jack from the corner of his eye.
“So I know where you’ll be.”
“In the event you need my assistance with some errand or other?”
“There is that.” Jack shrugged. “But more importantly, I don’t like the idea of not knowing where I can find you.” Just the thought of searching London, not finding Will, not knowing he’d left, believing the worst had happened to him...
Fear chilled Jack’s gut.
Will’s lips quirked. Not enough to form a smile, but enough to break the hard line of his mouth. “Careful, Jack. Sounds like you care.”
“Because I do.”
The hint of a smile faded from Will’s lips. For a long moment, he went very still. Just when Jack was about to ask him what was on his mind—for clearly, that agile brain of his was spinning on something—Will gave his head an absent shake. “Where should I send this note I am to write you?”
“Arrington Park in Hampshire. I’m there more often than not, and when away, I’m not gone long...with the exception of the current circumstances.”
“Consider it done.”
“Thank you, Will.”
“Anything for you, Jack,” Will said, nonchalant and easy, as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
Jack wasn’t fooled.
The scents of kippers and bread yanked at his empty stomach, dragging his attention to his plate. Satisfied he had Will’s word, he picked up his fork and began to eat.
* * *
A knock at the door pulled Jack from his chair at the window.
He opened the door, revealing Will with a paper sack and a bottle of wine. “You didn’t have to bring supper.”
“I was hungry,” Will said, walking into Jack’s room. “Thought you might be, too. In any case, you got the coffee house. I can manage supper for us.”
Knowing full well Will wouldn’t accept money from him and reluctant to get into another argument on the subject, Jack merely said, “Thanks, Will.” After closing and locking the door, he took the proffered bag and set it on the table. “You certain you don’t mind keeping me company?”
Will waved aside the question, just as he had done not two hours ago when Jack had left their small table to escort Mr. Walsh back to the boardinghouse. “I don’t have anything pressing on the schedule for the evening. Not a bother at all to spend it with you.”
Yesterday, with only his own self for company, the nine hours at the coffee house had felt like two dozen. Today though, with Will, those hours had passed by in a blur of card games, coffee and conversations. Just as last night had passed by in a blur.
As Will leaned in close to grab one of the card paper boxes from the sack, the scent of shaving soap teased Jack’s nose. The stop at his room before arriving at Jack’s door must have included a shave. The stubble covering Will’s jaw was gone. There was nothing but smooth skin surrounding his mouth. His lips were slightly parted, with just the tiniest hint of tension at the corners. Tension Jack wanted to—
An elbow bumped Jack’s arm. Startled to his senses, he took a quick step back, away from temptation.
“Sorry. Did I get you in the side?” Will held the wine bottle in one hand and its now freed cork in the other.
Jack’s pulse eased a notch. That elbow had just been an accident, nothing more. “A bit. Wasn’t expecting it.” He took the other card paper box and settled back in his chair. “How are the spinach plants faring?” he asked, eager to turn Will’s mind to a new topic.
“Still surviving. Still growing. Should be able to pick some of it soon.”
“Have you grown other things in that pot or just spinach?”
As Will talked about his prior attempts with lettuce and peas and an ill-fated one with carrots—the clay pot likely hadn’t been deep enough—the last remnants of arousal left Jack’s senses, and that comfortable sense of camaraderie, of a life-long friendship, settled back over him.
Chapter Five
Sprawled on his stomach, Will shifted on the bed, rolling his hips back, needing to give his trapped cock some relief.
What could only be a linen-covered erection pressed against his arse.
Lust shot to Will’s already hard cock.
A groan scraped across the back of his neck.
Senses still heavy with sleep, Will blinked his eyes open to a dark room.
That groan had come from Jack.
And it hadn’t been a groan of protest, but one of distinct need.
The arm slung over his waist tightened, pulling him a tad closer. The stiff length of Jack’s cock was like a brand against Will’s arse—radiating enough heat to almost scorch his skin even with the thin layer of fabric between them. Will couldn’t stop himself from pressing back, from rubbing against Jack.
Another groan scraped across his nape. This one lower, harsher, drenched in want.
Fingertips drifted down his belly. Anticipation soared through Will. A large familiar hand wrapped around his cock.
This time, it was Will who couldn’t hold back the groan. Jack’s hand felt so damned good. Tugging, stroking. The pace ideal—not too fast, not too slow, fanning the flames of desire with each sure pump of his fist.
It had been so long since he’d been touched like this. Since someone had wanted to give him pleasure for pleasure’s sake and for no other reason. Yet still, Will turned, dislodging that wonderful hand.
Only took a moment for Jack to adjust his grip to their new position. With his forearm lodged between t
hem, he tugged on Will’s prick, as Will wrapped his arms around Jack.
A small part of his sleep—and lust-fogged mind whispered that it would be beyond foolish to indulge in such play with Jack again. That Jack couldn’t be even partially awake. That Jack was reacting to the naked body in his bed and nothing more. Tomorrow Jack might remember what they were doing right at this moment, and what if Jack then refused to sleep with him again? Safer to keep their adult friendship strictly on friendship terms and nothing more. But Will shoved the little voice of reason aside. The arousal pounding through his veins demanded attention. Immediate attention. He had Jack in his arms and he didn’t want to give him up.
Needing to feel Jack’s bare skin, Will yanked up the hem of Jack’s shirt. With a twist of his upper body, Jack released him long enough to dispense with the garment. The goddamn smallclothes. Those had to go as well. Breaths coming hard and fast, Will’s fingers found the string at Jack’s waist. One tug was all it took, and he was pushing the offending linen down Jack’s hips.
The heavy weight of Jack’s cock slapped Will’s upper thigh. A shudder of pure lust gripped Will’s spine. Jack wiggled, kicking the smallclothes free from his legs, his knees bumping Will. And then it was Jack grabbing hold of him, arms wrapping around Will’s back, aligning their bodies perfectly, trapping their cocks between their bellies.
Softest skin backed by hot iron pressed alongside Will’s length. Jack’s sharp inhale cut through the darkness. A moan rumbled Will’s throat.
Will took hold of Jack’s hips, fingers splaying over his firm, muscular arse, and guided Jack’s movements. Jack picked up the counterpoint to Will’s rhythm, pushing forward when Will pulled back, the fat head of Jack’s cock dragging along Will’s length in the most decadent of caresses.
Their legs tangled together, bodies straining, as they ground against each other. Desperate and furious. Hips thrusting. Hands grabbing, clutching. Hot, panting breaths and sweat-slicked skin.
He could feel the tension in Jack. In every hard, massive muscle. Could feel the climax rushing upon Jack. Upon himself. He wanted to crush his mouth over Jack’s, push his tongue into the man’s mouth. Taste Jack’s groan when the orgasm seized him. Instead, he rested his forehead on Jack’s broad shoulder, clung to him, as he moved faster, chasing the bliss just out of reach.
He felt the groan shake Jack’s chest an instant before the sound reached his ears. Liquid heat splashed his belly, Jack’s entire body trembling with the force of his climax. Will shoved his hips forward, dragging his cock through Jack’s release. And bliss seized his senses.
It took some moments before their gasping breaths quieted. Jack shifted, the warmth of his body vanishing as he turned away from Will. In the silence of the room, the creak of the ropes under the mattress seemed unnaturally loud.
A chill swept over Will. He strained his eyes, but the room was so completely dark, not a single hint of light coming from the hearth, that he couldn’t make out Jack’s dark outline.
Jack was still on the bed, of that he was certain. Will could feel his weight on the mattress.
Before his mind could grab hold of the worries beginning to form, soft linen was dragged across his belly, tickling his skin. An involuntary chuckle teased his gut.
“Still ticklish?” Jack asked, voice low and hoarse, as he cleaned the remnants of their climaxes from Will’s belly.
“Apparently.”
Jack let out a little harrumph, the amused sort, treading close to the realm of affectionate.
Dangerously close.
The instant the linen left him, Will pulled the blanket over his rapidly cooling skin and turned toward the wall, settling in his usual place in Jack’s bed.
There was a muted thump of fabric hitting floorboards. The mattress shifted again, and a great wall of solid muscle, bare skin and warmth pressed up against Will.
Within no time at all, the gentle pattern of Jack’s breaths fanning his nape lulled Will to sleep.
* * *
Pushing up to a seated position, Will swung his feet over the side of the bed. Weak daylight cut through the breaks in the closed drapes. It was either very early in the morning or the sky was overcast.
He could vaguely remember Jack’s nudge. The hand on his shoulder. “Sleep. I’ll lock the door behind me.”
Must not be too early if Jack had already left for escort duty.
He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Had last night meant anything to Jack? No reason to believe it had. Though it certainly meant something to Will. The pull, the need, heavy in his chest, reminding him of what he did not have. Could not have.
With a shake of his head, he dragged a hand through his hair.
In the moments before sleep had claimed Will, Jack hadn’t seemed embarrassed or ashamed of what they had done. There had been no stifling awkwardness, at least not on Jack’s part. Last night had merely been a repeat of many such nights they used to share. It had never gone further than desperate adolescents. Will had wished it had. Every time Jack had reached for him in the darkness, he’d hoped those decadent touches would include a kiss. A press of Jack’s lips against his. But after twenty years, he still did not know how Jack’s lips felt against his own. How he tasted. If Jack’s kiss would be soft and slow, or if he’d claim what he wanted.
Will rather thought Jack would be of the soft and slow variety. All that power and strength leashed for him. And tentative. Lingering. Drawing out the pleasure—
He gave his head another shake, throwing off the too-tempting thought.
No use at all fantasizing about something that could not be.
There was a reason why he had never pushed for more. Why he had never brushed his lips against Jack’s. The possibility of rejection hung much too heavily. And the outcome of that rejection was something Will had not been willing to endure.
He stood and padded the short distance across the room, the floorboards cold against his bare feet. Jack had left the washbasin empty and the ceramic pitcher beside it full. Will filled the basin halfway, and leaning down, splashed cold water onto his face. The cake of shaving soap beside the basin was still a bit damp, its surface sticky from recent use.
Disdain and disgust—they had been but paltry concerns in comparison to the possibility of having pushed Jack out of his life. So Will had held back, masked his desires for his best friend and soaked up whatever Jack had been willing to give him.
Yet now...
Borrowing Jack’s straight razor, he set to work shaving the stubble from his jaw. He rarely saw Jack anymore. He had these days with Jack...for however long it lasted. And their time together would end. No doubt about it. Once Jack’s current errand was completed, Jack would return to Hampshire and Will would pick up where he left off, winning the rest of the money he needed to leave London. They would part ways. Permanently.
Using the short length of towel hanging on the side of the washstand, he patted his face dry. Then he grabbed his clothes from where he’d left them on the chest of drawers and pulled them on. As he turned from the chest, his fingers giving his cravat a tug to secure the knot, he noticed a bundle of white fabric peeking from beneath the bed.
Leaning down, he picked up the fabric. Jack’s smallclothes, wadded up from last night, the linen stuck together in places with dried seed.
The only soap he could find in the room was the shaving soap. So he used that to clean the garment, dunking the linen in the washbasin and rising with what remained in the pitcher of water.
What grown man who preferred women rubbed off on another man?
Yes, he and Jack were comfortable with each other. Comfortable enough to sleep in the same bed. But sharing a bed meant nothing. Those without the luxury of coin did not put any stock in who they shared a bed with. All that mattered was having a pillow to rest their head on for the night. Hell, a pillow wasn’t even a requirement.
Yet there were lines an adult man did not cross—distinct, definitive lines—unless said man was at least som
ewhat open to male partners.
And one fact Will had never had cause to question before moved out of the fact bin and into...he wasn’t quite sure yet.
Jack’s employer’s preferences did not seem to bother Jack in the slightest. He was genuinely concerned for the state of the duke’s relationship with the beautiful young man. Truly hoped the two would reconcile. He seemed to look on that relationship as just as valid, just as acceptable, as if that young man was a young woman.
A decidedly uncommon way of thinking...unless Jack could empathize with his employer’s preferences.
Did the duke know Jack preferred men? Was that why he trusted Jack above all his employees to play guard dog? Did Jack harbor feelings beyond loyalty for his employer?
No. Will didn’t detect even a shade of jealousy from Jack toward that beautiful young man. Or attraction. There was only concern for the duke.
He wrung out Jack’s smallclothes and hung them over the back of one of the wooden chairs to dry.
Did Jack have a lover in Hampshire? Was that why he was so eager to return to the country?
No. If that was the case, Jack would not have laid a hand on Will last night. Jack wasn’t at all the sort to even contemplate betraying a lover. The man held loyalty and honor in too high of a regard.
Just the sort of man who would stand beside his lover until the end of his days.
Longing gripped Will’s heart. Held it in a fierce grip.
With effort, he pushed aside the longing. Pushed it back down where it needed to remain. And focused on what he could possibly have.
Jack. In his bed—or rather, Jack’s bed—as Will had always wanted him.
He didn’t have much to lose anymore. Merely a handful of days or so.
And the probability Jack wouldn’t reject him...well, that might actually be tipped in Will’s favor.
He gathered the key from the floorboards and left the room, optimism daring to touch his heart.
Chapter Six
Jack picked up his smallclothes from the back of the wooden chair. The white linen fabric was a tad stiff, just as it would be if recently laundered and hung to dry.