by March, Ava
The old need rose up, grabbed hold of Will’s soul. The old wish to be with Jack until the end of their days. To be able to walk through the door of a quaint country cottage after a long day in the fields, to be greeted by Jack’s smile and his kiss.
Hands tugged on the buttons of his coat, jolting Will’s thoughts back to the man in his arms. Back to what he could have—Jack, in his bed. Jack begging him for more.
A shrug of Will’s shoulders, and he pulled his wrists free from the sleeves of his coat. Then he set to work stripping the clothes from Jack’s body. On getting one step closer to being able to hear a plea for more from Jack. Their kiss continued on, tongues stroking, tasting, tangling together, as Will’s fingers found the buttons on Jack’s coat and waistcoat, slipped them free, pushed the garments from Jack’s broad chest. Pulled the cravat from Jack’s neck. Tugged on Jack’s trousers and shoved them down his hips. Divested himself of his own waistcoat, cravat and trousers. All the while, Jack’s hands roamed Will’s body. Coasted up and down his back, pausing every now and then to deliver a brief squeeze to Will’s arse. Jack’s kisses were open and eager, not demanding but drenched in desire so potent it cranked the lust pounding through Will’s veins even higher.
Breaking their kiss, Will whisked his own shirt over his head. Cold air nipped at his skin. But Will didn’t make a move to light the fire in the small hearth. Jack radiated enough heat to warm them both, and Will had absolutely no plans to step away from that massive body.
He took hold of the tail of Jack’s shirt. “Up. Off.”
Reaching behind his neck, Jack grabbed the collar and jerked the garment over his head. Bared chest working under the force of his panting breaths and black hair a tousled mess, Jack dropped his shirt to the floorboards. He looked over his shoulder, toward the chest of drawers.
“The candle,” Jack murmured.
“Yes. It’s quite a useful thing.” There was no way he would extinguish it, unless, of course, Jack demanded it. He’d never actually seen Jack fully naked before. Not once. Not even when they were boys, living in the cramped confines of the workhouse. Jack was rather fond of his smallclothes. He nipped at Jack’s lower lip. “Smallclothes. Off. Then get on the bed.”
He heard the catch in Jack’s breaths. Jack gave him a nod, the dark depths of his eyes blazing with a need that almost pushed Will to tackle him right then and there.
Yet Will resisted the impulse. He didn’t want to miss the next moment.
Jack’s hair fell over his eyes as he tipped his chin down to untie the string at his waist. Then he pushed the thin linen down, over the hard arch of his erection. Once freed, his cock sprang up, jutting from the dark thatch of hair on his groin.
Will flexed his hand at his side. Hell, he could practically feel the heavy weight of Jack’s cock in the palm of his hand. Could almost feel the satin-soft skin. A drop of fluid beaded at the tip, tempting Will to drop to his knees, to swipe his tongue across the crown. To taste Jack, just as he had done last night.
Instead, he remained on his feet, dragged his gaze up Jack’s bare body. All six-feet-five inches of it. Strong, muscular thighs. The hard plane of his abdomen. Solid, hair-dusted forearms and bulging biceps. The impossible width of his chest. The inherent strength of his shoulders.
Damnation, Jack was gorgeous. Every inch of him screamed raw, brute power. And all that power was leashed for Will.
Stepping free of his smallclothes, Jack shifted around Will, sat on the edge of the bed and swung his legs up onto the mattress. A little scoot toward the pillow, and resting back on his elbows, he looked up at Will. His legs were almost spread, knees falling open. His cock arched over his lower belly, putting his big ballocks on full display.
Will couldn’t keep the eager grin from his lips as he moved to join Jack on the bed. He crawled up Jack’s body, those long legs opening fully for him, granting him access to settle between them. Bracing his weight on his arms, he leaned over Jack. Captured those irresistible lips once again. Large hands splayed across his back, drifted down to palm his arse. Pulled their bodies closer together.
Picking up their old rhythm, they moved against each other. Hard cock sliding against hard cock. Chest pressed against chest. Jack’s arms wrapped around him, holding him securely. Jack’s thighs bracketing his. Jack’s tongue stroking his in rhythm to the thrusts of Will’s hips. Sweat pricked Will’s skin. He could feel it beading on Jack’s skin. Heating Jack’s skin. Heating Will from the inside out. Pulling the climax ever nearer. Until he feared the next thrust would push them both right over the edge.
Leaning back, Will broke the kiss, broke the contact of their bodies. He reached over the edge of the mattress, fingers frantically searching for worn wool. His hand closed around the waistband of his trousers. He pulled the garment closer then grabbed the glass vial from the pocket.
“Will?”
“We’ll need this,” he said, righting himself and producing the vial.
A furrow crossed Jack’s brow. His cheeks were flushed, lips wet and parted and begging for another kiss.
Another kiss that Will could not have stopped himself from taking even if he tried.
Then he levered back just enough to balance on his knees so he could open the bottle.
“Oil,” Will explained, as he poured a generous amount onto his palm.
Jack blinked, his gaze fixed on Will’s palm. “Oh. Yes.”
“Yes what, Jack?”
“Yes, we’ll need that.”
“We will indeed.” Tossing the vial aside, he dropped back down to capture those lips again. He worked a hand between them, felt Jack shift beneath him, pulling his legs back. With extreme effort, Will pushed down the climax swiftly building within, kept it at bay. Swept a light hand over his own cock, slicking his skin. Then he reached behind Jack’s ballocks, found his entrance. And pushed a finger inside.
Jack groaned, the sound thick with desire, with unadulterated pleasure.
He added another finger, stretching Jack’s hole. Hell, the man was tight. “Do you want more?”
Jack nodded.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Jack?”
Jack ducked his chin. “Please.”
Will pulled free, positioned his crown at Jack’s entrance. And then he pushed forward, until the entire length of his cock was finally trapped in the most exquisite, clinging heat.
Jack’s jaw tipped up, exposing the thick cords of his neck. His chest heaved with each heavy panting breath, yet he kept his gaze locked with Will’s.
The lurch of Will’s heart against his ribs minutes ago was nothing compared to now.
I love him.
He’d always known he loved Jack. But this?
This was different. So very different. Stronger, more intense. Honest and intimate. True, pure love.
And Jack would leave him as soon as his errand was completed.
“So big, strong Mr. Morgan likes a hard cock up his arse, does he?”
Jack’s chest went still, his features blanking. All the pleasure, all the need, all the desire for Will vanished, as if it had never been there.
“Get off me.” The words were a growl, tinged with unmistakable hurt.
Will’s stomach fell to somewhere around his knees.
Before Will could marshal his muscles to obey, hands pushed at his chest.
And Will found himself sprawled at the foot of the narrow bed.
He gave his head a shake to clear it. His back to Will, Jack was tugging on his trousers, shoving his feet into his shoes.
“Where are you going, Jack?”
To which he received no response.
Will pushed up from the bed, got to his feet. “I was only teasing.” He tried for a light tone. “Didn’t mean anything.”
Without once looking in Will’s direction, Jack pulled his shirt over his head, shoved his arms into the sleeves, tucked the shirttail into his waistband. Every movement jerky and tight yet quick, as if he couldn’t get away from Will fast enou
gh.
Desperation yanked at Will. He reached out for Jack’s upper arm. “Wait, Jack, I—”
Hands grabbed hold of him about the ribs. The next thing he knew, his back connected with a wall. The impact hadn’t been enough to knock the air from his lungs or cause him any real harm, but it certainly was more than enough to startle him.
He blinked, gathered his bearings. Biceps bulging beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, Jack held him pressed against the wall, Will’s toes just barely touching the floorboards. Eyes narrowed and jaw clenched, Jack stared at him. There was no warmth. Nothing but coldness in his dark eyes.
Jack had never laid a hand on Will in anger. Never once.
Until tonight.
“I’m sorry, Jack.” It was the only thing he could think to say.
Taking a step back, Jack released him. He snatched his greatcoat from the floor, and then he was out the door.
God in hell!
Stepping over the smallclothes, cravat, waistcoat and coat Jack had left behind, Will grabbed his own clothes. Tugged them on.
He’d made a grave error. A very grave error.
The urgent yet hesitant quality in Jack’s touch. The way Jack had followed his lead, the way Will had instinctively known Jack would follow. The way Jack had ducked his chin, the blush that had warmed his cheeks. “Please.” The tentative note that had ridden behind the heavy need in Jack’s plea.
Why in the name of all that was holy had Will chosen that exact moment to tease him? And why that exact taunt?
It had been a preemptive defensive strike, designed to kill the raw intimacy of the moment, to put distance between them. A knee-jerk reaction to the reminder Jack would soon walk away from him again. One Will had not been able to hold back. And he could admit to himself his pride had still been smarting a bit—not a lot, but definitely a small bit—from Jack’s offer to pay him last night.
I’m a bloody, fucking bastard.
And if he had just completely ruined Jack’s first time with a man...
Oh god... That was a possibility. A distinct one.
Damnation!
His coat on, he blew out the candle, then he was running down the stairs, the locked door behind him.
He knew exactly where Jack was headed. Back to the hotel. The path he would take...of that, Will wasn’t entirely certain. They had taken a rather ambling path on their stroll, deliberately on Will’s part, so Jack wouldn’t wonder why they were heading directly toward Will’s boardinghouse.
When he reached the walkway, he swept his gaze up and down the moonlit street. Bloody hell! No sign of Jack.
Closing his eyes, he briefly held his breath. Focused on listening. He detected the faint sound of footsteps echoing off a building.
Following the sound, Will headed right, more run than walk. Crossed the street then took a left. As he rounded the corner, he caught sight of a tall, broad figure in a long coat.
“Jack. Wait.” He didn’t shout. He knew in his bones Jack would hear him. There was the risk of Jack lengthening his stride, walking faster away from him. But better that than to startle Jack by running up behind him.
Jack neither quickened nor slowed his pace as Will approached.
Instead of grabbing for Jack’s upper arm again, Will moved in front of him. Used his body to force Jack to stop.
“Please, wait.”
Jack glared at him, yet he didn’t make a move to go around Will.
Will cast a quick glance about. The surrounding buildings were all dark, the street barren. Had to be pushing against one in the morning. Still...
He reached out, dared to take hold of Jack’s hand hanging at his side. Jack’s fingers didn’t wrap around Will’s hand, but also didn’t pull back. Will tugged, nudged his chin toward the nearby alley and its heavy shadows.
The moon’s light was plenty bright enough for Will to detect the wariness that clouded Jack’s gaze.
Jack could have punched him square in the gut and the effect would have been the same.
“Please, Jack. I’ll stay on my feet. I give you my word.”
This time, when he tugged, the man followed. Will guided them into the alley. Once they were safely in the shadows, he released Jack’s hand. Stepped close to him.
“I’m sorry.” He repeated the words. Once, twice, three times. “Please, believe me. I’m an arse and a bastard. You know that. But I’d never do anything I knew would truly hurt you.”
Slowly, ever so slowly, he reached out. Cupped Jack’s jaw. His skin was cool, his day’s beard bristly against Will’s palm. He could feel Jack’s pulse, rapid and quick, beneath his fingers. Could feel the tension, the brittle vulnerability, that strung his giant’s massive muscles taut.
On some level, he had to have known precisely which taunt would deliver the sharpest blow. It was no coincidence his question had caused Jack to bolt from his room. Why exactly that taunt had hit so sharply, he hadn’t quite figured out yet. Before the night was over, he’d find a way to pry the truth from Jack. There was no denying, though, that he had pushed them into a bed too fast, faster than Jack had been ready for. Of that, he could now see with crystal clarity. Even if he had not thrown that taunt at Jack, tomorrow would not have been an easy day for Jack. He should have taken matters slower, should have picked up on the reticence and given Jack the reassurances he needed at every step along the way. Instead, he had allowed his eagerness to turn him into a selfish bastard, to blind him to his lover’s needs. And the end result?
He had hurt Jack. Caused Jack to doubt himself. They’d always been safe with each other, and he’d given Jack just cause to doubt that safety.
“You are the most amazing man, Jack,” he said, whisper soft. “So strong, so brave. When you were in my bed, with me... I’ve never seen a sight more gorgeous, more beautiful in all the world.”
They could have been the only two souls in all of London at that moment. The night cool and quiet about them, just the two of them cloaked in dense shadows. Just Jack’s warm, quick breaths against Will’s cheek.
“We once trusted each other to make it to the next morning. Trust me with your desires. You have my word, Jack. You’re safe with me, just as I have always been safe with you.”
Leaning in closer, he brushed his lips against Jack’s, the lightest of touches. A brief caress of skin against skin.
“We all say things we regret at times, don’t we?”
He felt more than saw Jack’s shrug.
“Was that a yes or a no?”
“A yes,” Jack said, voice low, a rumble of sound.
Finally, a verbal response from Jack.
He gathered his courage. Brushed his lips against Jack’s again, needing the reassurance of that brief caress. “Will you forgive me?”
A pause.
The clop of hooves echoed in the distance, bounced off the buildings, off the dense night air.
“Yes.”
Before Will allowed blessed relief to wash over him, he asked, “Can you trust me again?”
Jack’s trust, once given, was a force to be reckoned with. Yet it was also a fragile thing, easily broken. Will had fractured it tonight, of that there was no doubt. He could only hope that fracture did not prove irreparable.
He knew they would soon part ways. That Jack’s duties would soon pull him back to Hampshire. They did not have forever. They only had this time together in London. A finite yet undetermined number of days. But he was nowhere near prepared to lose Jack just yet.
Jack let out a sigh, his head tipping down, forehead touching Will’s. “Yes.”
Will’s shoulders slumped. “Thank you.” He took hold of Jack’s hand. Long fingers wrapped around Will’s palm. “Let’s go back to the hotel, all right?”
“All right.”
He gave Jack’s hand a squeeze, then made to leave the alley. As the approached the street, he forced his hand to release Jack’s. Fingers slipped from his. Yet as they turned onto the street, Jack remained at his side.
&nb
sp; Chapter Eight
After locking the door, Jack hung his greatcoat on the hook. The long walk back to the hotel had provided ample time to think over the evening. He should not have given in to Will. Shouldn’t have done it. Yet he’d so desperately wanted to be with another man again—to be with Will—that he hadn’t been able to lie and tell Will he did not prefer him. He’d known wanting more from Will—even if only physical—couldn’t possibly turn out well. But he had not predicted just how quickly more would turn from absolutely amazing to a complete and utter disaster.
The realization he had vastly over-reacted tonight was not a pleasant one. He wished Will would never mention what had transpired between them. Wished Will would treat it as he had their last two encounters—as insignificant events unworthy of discussion the next day. Yet Jack couldn’t let one important question go unasked.
“Did I hurt you?” Guilt slid over him, thick and viscous, clashing with the bone-deep mortification. He’d shoved Will across a bed. Slammed his best friend bodily against the wall. If he left even a single bruise on Will’s pale skin, he’d never forgive himself.
“Pardon?” Crouched before the hearth, Will looked over his shoulder, the iron poker in hand, the building flames flickering up toward the flue.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, speaking louder. “Your back... The wall. I don’t know what came over me.” He knew exactly what had come over him. That was the problem. He shifted his weight. “It will never happen again. I promise.”
“You needn’t worry yourself over it.” Will got to his feet. “In any case, I rather asked for it.”
Jack shook his head. “No. You didn’t. Don’t say such a thing.”
Will shrugged. “If you insist. And no, you didn’t hurt me. I can take a shove with no ill effects.”
“Are you certain?” He made a mental note to keep an eye on Will tomorrow for any sign of injury.