Enticement

by Madelynn Ellis

  Dark storm clouds billowed across the coal-dark surface of Kit’s eyes. Ross chucked aside the tea-towel and closed the gap between them again. He touched Kit’s arm, where his bicep peeked from beneath his sleeve.

  “You were training, Ross. You’ve a practice now. This place is right for you. Always has been. I couldn’t steal you away from that.”

  Ross prodded him slightly with two fingers and felt the tension in the muscle. “You’re still making excuses. Deal with it, instead of running.” He turned away and opened the fridge. Kit’s gaze never left him as he gulped down mouthful after mouthful of tart cranberry juice. Ross ignored him, focused instead on the explosion upon his taste buds. Neither of them could alter the past. The difference between them was that he’d moved on. Kit hadn’t. Kit had lost himself in a cornfield six years and never found his way out. The shadow of that golden valley still clung to his skin.

  Kit moved so fast, he was on Ross before he’d had a chance to react. “You want me to deal with it?” Kit was right in his face, so close there wasn’t room for a whisper to pass between them without it raising hairs. Hard fingers dug into Ross’s upper arms. The cold metal of the fridge door buzzed against his back. Nerves across his loins and torso jumped when he felt Kit’s hips meet his own.

  “What are you doing?” he barked, unintentionally showering Kit in vibrant red drops of juice, which clung to his pale skin and rolled down his cheeks like blood tears.

  “Dealing with it. This is what I came back for. You, Ross. Not Flora’s legacy, not to apologize, or face their continued suspicions, but to see you. You’re right. We left things undone. I don’t intend to make that mistake again.”

  Cold washed up Ross’s spine as he stiffened. Heat washed down to his loins just moments later. “I’m with Evie now,” he protested, clinging to the juice carton so that the cardboard crumpled beneath his fingertips.

  “And I was with Sammie then.”

  Ross felt his skin drain of warmth and colour at the mention of Kit’s ex. Hard enough to hear her name, let alone hear it spoken with the growled note of possession Kit had produced. Ross knew the facts. Told himself he knew the truth, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t lain awake on numerous nights past, picking over events, and letting the darkest reaches of his soul mount suspicions. Kit’s reassurance, his denial, should have been enough. Most of the time it was, just every now and then the demon imp of suspicion roused itself and crowed, “what if?”

  “Kit, no,” he whispered, but he wasn’t sure if his protest was real. It certainly carried no weight with Kit. His friend leaned closer, stretching and pressing his body against Ross’s. Ross sensed the hardness of him, smelled the natural scent of his body beneath the lingering trace of aftershave. “Evie—she could come back down.”

  “One kiss, Ross, that’s all I’m asking. I don’t intend to break you apart. I like Evie. She suits you.”

  Ross shook his head, but even as he did so, he tilted forward, bringing his lips closer to Kit’s.

  One kiss! The tremble in his loins told him he wanted more.

  So many shared moments, but this was only the second occasion they’d properly kissed. If they’d resisted the first time would things have turned out differently? If he resisted now, what would happen? Would Kit walk away, go back to Japan and leave him to his cosy, normal life with Evie?

  The trouble was, just looking at Kit was tantamount to being teased by the devil. Something about him beckoned you closer, made you want to touch him, and long for him to touch you. It’s how it had happened the first time. He’d spent too long looking at Kit, admiring the lines of his wiry body as he fucked. In those days, he always seemed to be watching Kit fuck. More often than not it had been Sammie, but there’d been a host of other faces too. Then Kit’s interest seemed to wane. He was suddenly all for stepping back and letting Ross sow his oats.

  Kit’s lips barely brushed the surface of Ross’s own. Whisper light, they dusted the over the sensitive skin, offering the promise of enjoyment, but not yet delivering.

  “I love her,” said Ross, half-turning his head away. A wave of melancholy besieged his tired mind.

  Kit’s hard fingers curled around the side of his jaw, and forced them face-to-face again. “This doesn’t change that. I don’t expect it to.”

  Kit might say it and believe it, but Ross wasn’t so sure. Everything impacted on everything else. He had no idea how Evie would react to even knowing that he’d shared a homoerotic encounter or two with Kit in the past, let alone that Kit seemed intent on picking things up exactly where they left off as if nothing had bloody well happened in-between.

  “Ross,” Kit sighed. Their lips finally met, Kit leading. Kit pressing him hard up against the humming fridge and not letting up, forcing compliance and taking what he wanted.

  Somehow Kit managed to get a hand down between them. He covered Ross’s loins, kneaded his already hardening cock through the layer of denim, leaving Ross gasping.

  “Kit,” he shot out a warning. His friend merely smiled and playfully circled the button fastening of Ross’s jeans.

  He’d resist, Ross told himself, holding himself rigid, every muscle in his body pulled taut. But he’d fail. He always did where Kit was concerned. He just couldn’t say no to the guy. Not ever.

  Instead of springing his cock free and going down on his knees to blow him, Kit relinquished his grip and turned away.

  “You taste just as good as you ever did,” he said. A hint of sadness tinged his voice. “Good night, Ross. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” And he went upstairs to bed.

  Shocked and aroused, Ross remained slumped against the fridge, his thoughts a raging bag of emotions. That was it? One kiss and then walk away? Damn, Kit! Ross’s heart was racing, and his cock begging for some action. He couldn’t go upstairs to Evie like this. Chances were she was already asleep, and he didn’t even want her suspecting that he was horny over someone other than her.

  “Shit!” he cursed and freed his cock. He rested one hand on the corner of the kitchen table, while he quickly pumped his cock. He came quickly, exploding onto a square of kitchen towel. No points for style or stamina for that performance, he thought ruefully as he tidied himself up. A trace scent of sex still clung to him, even once he’d finished washing the dishes, but at least he was no longer standing to attention.

  For some reason, despite the yawn stretching her face, Evie couldn’t seem to settle. Kit’s presence had changed the dynamics of the household, warmed areas that were previously cold and made others less inviting. The main bedroom was freezing after the companionable warmth of the living room. The heat from the radiator stung her palm when she grabbed it to see if it was still on. Shivering, she climbed into bed and lay facing the meter of empty space Ross usually occupied. She’d grown used to his presence, a solid, warm shape beside her.

  She thought about the two men downstairs and the easy camaraderie between them. Was she threatened by it? Perhaps. She almost certainly would have been, if it weren’t for a certain edge to some of their interactions. Although, some level of wariness was inevitable after so long apart. Six years constituted a lot of catching up, but that prickliness piqued her curiosity too. Perhaps because Ross was the least jumpy person she’d ever met, and yet beneath his sociable calm he’d been agitated this evening, and at times, picking his words ever so carefully.

  Then again, Kit did seem to inspire that sort of nervous tension. She felt twitchy herself every time she thought of him. Maybe it’s because she’d seen him naked twice having known him only a few hours. Maybe it was the way he held his tumbler in the palm of his hand that screamed of sensuality. He certainly had a way of injecting sexual intent into the smallest of actions. Just asking Kit to pass the pepper grinder seemed like a lesson in flirtation. She’d never known a man whose movements were so fluid and yet unpredictable. Like water racing along a rocky stream, sometimes his actions met with a smash. She’d been unable to take her eyes off him most of the night, despite
spending a goodly portion of it curled against Ross’s side.

  “Still awake?” Ross asked, slipping into the room and out of his clothes in the dark. He climbed into bed naked and cuddled against her.

  “I thought you’d be hours,” she said, snuggling up to the solid length of him, and seeking a kiss.

  “Nah, we don’t need to say everything at once. Some of it can wait. He’s going to be about a bit.” Ross draped one arm around her body and squeezed. “Night, Evie. I’m knackered.” He gave her the sought after kiss then rolled over and scooted over to his side of the bed. Ross liked to sleep in his own space. It was one of his quirks. He liked the space to stretch and roll. He didn’t like to be touched in case that somehow melded their thoughts. It didn’t make sense, but not sleeping spooned together was a minor inconvenience, and one she hardly missed, except tonight. Tonight, she wanted that comfort.

  Ross’s breathing began to soften almost immediately. She reached out and touched his shoulder. “I take it he’s quite well off,” she said of Kit.

  Ross hunched his shoulders, which she took as a “don’t know”, although it could just as easily have been him nudging the covers up a little farther to cover his ears, or an attempt to shrug her off.

  Evie pulled the bedclothes more tightly about her shoulders. The house was definitely cold tonight. “Ross? I mean, he must be, if he’s doing up a house.”

  Ross turned to face her again and captured her gaze across the white topography of the pillows. “I expect he inherited some money along with the house. Flora might have been madder than a hatter, but she wasn’t poor. That, and Kit had a good job over in Tokyo. He’s not staying with us ’cause he’s broke, Evie. Don’t pretend that’s not what you’re hinting at. He’s here because I offered. The pub’s a bit grotty.”

  “Grotty?”

  “Yeah.” Ross frowned at her narrowed eyes.

  “That’s not what you said on the phone to your mum about Christmas.”

  “It’s all right for the odd night.” He sniffed and pushed his nose into the pillow. “Besides, that’s different. I don’t want my mum here. She’ll just bang on about how successful my brother is and how many gorgeous grandchildren he’s spawned.”

  Evie smiled at his wriggling. It wasn’t his mum’s heartfelt desire for more babies causing the uncomfortable jig, but the fact that he really did want Kit to stay. Maybe that was simply a function of them being old friends and wanting to catch up. Maybe it was something more. Certainly, there’d been times over dinner when the two men’s gazes had locked across the table and additional layers of conversation had passed between them without them exchanging a single word.

  Old friends did that.

  Lovers did that. She and Ross had shared numerous moments like that back in their former shared flat. They were doing it now. Her questioning. Ross sleepily suggesting she back down.

  “What did you say Kit did in Japan?” she said, ignoring his voluble yawn.

  “Come off it, Evie. I need to sleep. I’ve a crack of dawn start tomorrow. One of the mares on Hazel’s farm has an ulcer.” He gave another yawn and dipped farther below the covers so that only a few tufts of brown hair remained poking out.

  Evie poked him beneath the covers, provoking a grunt. “So, it was dodgy, then?”

  “No!”

  “Then why not say he was in I.T., or marketing, instead of being so evasive?”

  “Because he wasn’t.”

  “Don’t split hairs.”

  “He worked in a bar, all right? Can I sleep now?” He tucked the duvet around him so that it formed a valley-like dip between them.

  Evie continued to stare at him in the dark a minute or two longer. Something told her there was more to Kit’s job in Japan than him simply serving drinks. In her experience, barmen—and she’d dated a few—didn’t look nearly so knockout gorgeous. Sure, some of them looked good, but not in the expensive clothes and haircut way that Kit did. If he’d worked in a bar, and not the highflying business sector, it had been an uber high-class cocktail lounge.

  “What was the place called?” she asked.

  “Evie!” Ross groaned. “For godsakes, go to sleep. Ask him yourself in the morning. I can’t remember. Cloud One, or something like that.”

  “Okay, I’m asleep.”

  “Good.”

  “Good night, Ross.”

  “Night…”

  Chapter Three

  When Evie came down the following morning, Ross had already left the house to make his Saturday morning calls. Kit slopped into the kitchen a few minutes later, wearing a loosely tied kimono and a pair of tiny red shorts.

  Red for danger, she reminded herself as a high-voltage charge of lust sat her bolt upright. The man was torment incarnate. He had something Ross didn’t, no matter how wonderful a boyfriend he was. Kit had the X factor, more than just sex appeal, more than good looks—and to be honest, he didn’t look especially good at the moment. Shorts aside, he appeared rather dishevelled and a bit green, but he still oozed dangerous, bad boy vibes in the same way one or two of her exes had oozed slime. He managed a feeble smile, and suddenly the shiver-inducing winter morning seemed a whole lot brighter. Evie uncurled her fingers from the side of her porridge bowl as a hot flush tracked across her skin.

  “You’re not subtle, are you?” she remarked, her gaze hopping between the shorts and his expression.

  “Huh?”

  Still, just because he was dangerous and she was attached, didn’t mean she couldn’t look if he insisted of flaunting his hot, semi-naked self. Coaxingly, she waggled the cereal box at him, hoping he’d come closer. Kit stared blankly at her before taking a hesitant step forward. He ignored the cereal box and squinted longingly at the kettle instead.

  “You’re not a naturally early riser, are you?”

  Kit shoved his fingers through his long fringe and scratched, making his hair appear even more mussed up and adorable. “I’m used to working nights. This is the first time I’ve seen this side of midday in months.” He blinked a bit more, as if trying to clear his vision. “Got any green tea?”

  “Just Yorkshire.”

  “Should have guessed that.” He pottered over to the sink, filled the kettle and threw teabags into two mugs. “You want one?”

  Evie abandoned her porridge and rose to pass him the milk from the fridge, intensely bemused by the changes morning had wrought. Out went her original assessment, the self-possessed, glitzy bad boy of the previous evening having been replaced by something more like a teddy bear with a hangover. She almost wanted to pet him and tuck him back into bed. Except with fear-inducing certainty, she knew physical contact was a bad idea just from the zing that zipped through her midriff at the very idea.

  “Ross said you worked in a bar,” she said, venturing into the territory of her unsatisfying conversation with Ross the previous night. Neutral territory, that’s what she needed in order to deal with Kit. Jobs were generally a safe topic, far less volatile than religion or politics. Besides it was far too early in the day to be mourning the state of the economy.

  “Did he?” Kit took the milk and poured.

  “An expensive one, right?”

  Kit remained poised over the teacups, his head bowed and his teeth pressed into his lower lip. When he finally looked up his expression remained curiously guarded.

  “I just meant that it was obviously a step up from the White Boar over the road.” She gave an awkward laugh. “You only have to look at the landlord and yourself to realize the bars were clearly worlds apart.”

  Kit glance down at his attire, and so did Evie. The belt of the kimono had come undone and now tickled the floor tiles, and his shorts seemed even more microscopic. “Oh, I see,” he said. He fastened the belt again and rested his bum against the sink while he sipped his tea. “It was a place in Kabukicho. It’s a kind of entertainment district in Tokyo. Lots of clubs, bars and pachinko parlours, that sort of thing.”

  “Pachinko whats?” Her mind conj
ured numerous semi-legal possibilities. “What are they, some sort of massage parlour?”

  Kit smiled through a yawn. “High tech slot machines.”

  “Is that a euphemism for something?”

  A second smile stretched his lips, this one lighting up his whole face and crinkling the corners of his eyes. “No, Evie, although there are certainly places that do have those. Both robots and dolls are very popular in Japan, particularly with middle-aged men.”

  “No way.” She reached out, intending to poke him, but changed her mind and swiped ineffectually at the air instead. They were still barely acquainted, and that zing only got stronger the nearer she got to him. Doing her best to seem busy, she started tidying away the breakfast things. Kit showed no signs of eating. “So, what are your plans for the day?”

  Having finished his first cup of tea, Kit set about pouring another. “I thought I’d head over and survey my new domain, since I keep hearing it’s such a wreck. See what needs doing and whether I need to call in the builders.”

  “It is a wreck.”

  Having come alive a little on his diet of tea, Kit watched her flutter about the kitchen emptying porridge into the bin and shaking the various juice cartons. “What about you?” he asked.

  “Shopping. Supermarket, for all the stuff we’re out of. Ross has finished all the juice again and I think we’ll need more teabags.”

  The remark earned her playful smirk, which shot straight to those magnificent dark eyes of his. “Mind if I join you? I’ve a few bits and pieces I need to pick up.” He rubbed his hand over his chin. “Like a new razor for starters.”

  “Sure,” she said as nonchalantly as she could manage. “You can help push the trolley.”

  He’d been forgiven, or mostly forgiven, for spying on her and Ross last night, Kit thought as he leaned over the ice cream cabinet trying to decide between mint chocolate chip and cherry spagnola. In the end, he put both in the trolley at which Evie raised her eyebrows. He noticed she’d stuck to the essential five fruit and veg a day sort of shopping his mum would have approved of. The luxuries reduced to a tub of olives and packet of croissants. Still, there were fun things you could do with both ice cream and olives, and not all of them involved adding an inch to your waistline, which he figured was what she was concerned over. Honestly, women. You couldn’t get through to them, but at least you could eat ’em. Of course, he hadn’t actually seen Evie’s stomach, just her back and her wonderfully voluptuous arse, but that didn’t stop him envisioning running his tongue over the soft surface as a pleasurable experience. Hell, maybe she had a piercing through her navel he could tease. Not that he had serious designs on her or anything, only little ones… Small, somewhat complicated ones that he couldn’t really put into words.