drawing. He
seemed so intrigued that I allowed him to join in. Since then, I’ve been giving him lessons in the evening—in our spare time. I’m not taking him away from his work,” I explained. “I hope that’s all right.”
Allinson had moved around to my side of the horse to brush Jackdaw’s neck. He
gazed down at me. “He draws well?”
“Astonishingly well. Lithograph quality. Certainly better than anything I could
do.”
Any more words dried up in my mouth as I gazed at Allinson standing right in
front of me. Our positions couldn’t have been more suggestive. I was still on my knees, eye level with his groin. Good evening! I greeted the bulge in snug riding breeches.
I tore my gaze away from his crotch, praying he hadn’t noticed my bald stare, and
looked up to his face. He had noticed. No doubt about that. Allinson’s face flushed, and his jaw worked, clenching and unclenching rhythmically. He was either about to strike me across the face for my impertinence or, God, with any luck, grab my arm, pull me to my feet, and kiss me until neither of us could see straight.
I saw it in my mind almost as if it had already happened. I swore I could feel his crushing arms around my body and the desperation in his kisses. As devoted as Allinson seemed to be to his dead wife, I surmised he had never followed through on his inclination toward men. He seemed the type who’d deny those perverse needs to the
bitter end of his days. I envisioned a scenario in which I was the first man to tap those hidden desires, to show him what could be, and to tutor him in the ways of male loving.
Between one breath and another, I’d already played out the entire scene in my head.
Our gazes remained entwined in a silent wrestling match. Who would give in first
and look away? Who would give in and reach out for what he wanted?
Allinson’s shoulders rose and fell with his breathing. He gripped that currycomb
as if it were a life preserver. His lips parted slightly and I held my breath, waiting.
“No.” That was all he muttered. Just the one word.
It was a dagger of disappointment to my heart. But lust still swirled in the air
between us, so powerful and palpable, it felt almost like another presence in the room. I rose slowly to my feet and cocked my head slightly. “No?”
Confusion knit his dark brows over eyes that gleamed with desire. Oh yes , he wanted me, and I knew how to make him want me even more. I could easily steer this situation to its natural conclusion. A heated look, a teasing smile, my hands unfastening those tight breeches, and then back on my knees and…
I could also find myself out of a job come morning. Hell, I probably would
anyway. Having gone this far, why not push further? I took another step closer to
Allinson. So close I could smell his delicious sweat, hear the creak of his leather boots as he shifted, practically taste his salty skin when I inhaled.
Allinson swayed a fraction, his body inclining toward mine as if drawn by a
magnet. Then he pulled back.
“No! Not here. Not now.” He seemed to realize his mistake. “Or ever ,” he gritted between his teeth, his shocked eyes going narrow.
As he turned away, I heard another whisper meant only for himself. “Not again.”
My ears pricked. Again? So he wasn’t completely inexperienced as I’d assumed.
There was a story there, a loss of something precious, another thread in a tapestry of tragedy. Another question to add to my long list.
I had darted my fingers through flames for long enough. Time to draw back
before I got a serious burn. Allinson had made his feelings clear. Even if he was
interested, he wasn’t interested. I should respect that and stop playing the coquette.
I resumed drying the already dry horse. “So, Jackdaw. How did you come to
choose that name?”
Allinson threw me a look over his shoulder as he strode toward the oat bin. “I
should think that would be fairly obvious.”
“Yes, of course.
seemed so intrigued that I allowed him to join in. Since then, I’ve been giving him lessons in the evening—in our spare time. I’m not taking him away from his work,” I explained. “I hope that’s all right.”
Allinson had moved around to my side of the horse to brush Jackdaw’s neck. He
gazed down at me. “He draws well?”
“Astonishingly well. Lithograph quality. Certainly better than anything I could
do.”
Any more words dried up in my mouth as I gazed at Allinson standing right in
front of me. Our positions couldn’t have been more suggestive. I was still on my knees, eye level with his groin. Good evening! I greeted the bulge in snug riding breeches.
I tore my gaze away from his crotch, praying he hadn’t noticed my bald stare, and
looked up to his face. He had noticed. No doubt about that. Allinson’s face flushed, and his jaw worked, clenching and unclenching rhythmically. He was either about to strike me across the face for my impertinence or, God, with any luck, grab my arm, pull me to my feet, and kiss me until neither of us could see straight.
I saw it in my mind almost as if it had already happened. I swore I could feel his crushing arms around my body and the desperation in his kisses. As devoted as Allinson seemed to be to his dead wife, I surmised he had never followed through on his inclination toward men. He seemed the type who’d deny those perverse needs to the
bitter end of his days. I envisioned a scenario in which I was the first man to tap those hidden desires, to show him what could be, and to tutor him in the ways of male loving.
Between one breath and another, I’d already played out the entire scene in my head.
Our gazes remained entwined in a silent wrestling match. Who would give in first
and look away? Who would give in and reach out for what he wanted?
Allinson’s shoulders rose and fell with his breathing. He gripped that currycomb
as if it were a life preserver. His lips parted slightly and I held my breath, waiting.
“No.” That was all he muttered. Just the one word.
It was a dagger of disappointment to my heart. But lust still swirled in the air
between us, so powerful and palpable, it felt almost like another presence in the room. I rose slowly to my feet and cocked my head slightly. “No?”
Confusion knit his dark brows over eyes that gleamed with desire. Oh yes , he wanted me, and I knew how to make him want me even more. I could easily steer this situation to its natural conclusion. A heated look, a teasing smile, my hands unfastening those tight breeches, and then back on my knees and…
I could also find myself out of a job come morning. Hell, I probably would
anyway. Having gone this far, why not push further? I took another step closer to
Allinson. So close I could smell his delicious sweat, hear the creak of his leather boots as he shifted, practically taste his salty skin when I inhaled.
Allinson swayed a fraction, his body inclining toward mine as if drawn by a
magnet. Then he pulled back.
“No! Not here. Not now.” He seemed to realize his mistake. “Or ever ,” he gritted between his teeth, his shocked eyes going narrow.
As he turned away, I heard another whisper meant only for himself. “Not again.”
My ears pricked. Again? So he wasn’t completely inexperienced as I’d assumed.
There was a story there, a loss of something precious, another thread in a tapestry of tragedy. Another question to add to my long list.
I had darted my fingers through flames for long enough. Time to draw back
before I got a serious burn. Allinson had made his feelings clear. Even if he was
interested, he wasn’t interested. I should respect that and stop playing the coquette.
I resumed drying the already dry horse. “So, Jackdaw. How did you come to
choose that name?”
Allinson threw me a look over his shoulder as he strode toward the oat bin. “I
should think that would be fairly obvious.”
“Yes, of course.
Similar Books
