Page 32 of At His Wife's Behest

“Oh, no,” Connor said. He used a fork to lift off the top layer of burnt cheese. “Maybe we can eat the center bits? They don’t look burnt.”

“Or we could walk to the village and eat dinner there,” Kellan said before stifling a yawn. Going out didn’t sound good at all. Jet lag was hitting hard.

Connor took a bite from the center. “Damnit! This isamazing.Even charred.”

He scooped up more from the center and offered it to Kellan. Kellan met his stare before opening his lips and allowing Connor to feed him.

“Shit! That is good. And we ruined it.”

“Pffft… ruined? I hardly think so.” He took another bite, eyeing Kellan. “If you want to go out, we can—but you look utterly exhausted.”

“Jet lag after a day of sightseeing has taken a toll.” He yawned again.

“And you just came. Hard. That doesn’t help.”

Kellan’s cheeks warmed. “Let’s just eat what we can and call it a night.”

They sat at the kitchen table picking at the burnt dish, drinking from another bottle of wine, and laughing. Connor stole kisses between the bites, and after they’d soaked the remaining inedible lasagna, they lit a fire in the main bedroom, removed the last of their clothing, and slid into the big bed together.

Kellan had feared not being able to sleep, even as tired as he was. The excitement of sharing a bed with a man? Too much. Yet, he drifted off in Connor’s arms and couldn’t recall the last time he slept so well.

Connor stared down into Kellan’s face. Sleep had taken all of the stress and wiped it away. He was beautiful when at peace,far surpassing simple good looks. Angelic, almost. Connor had struggled to find sleep himself, too excited about the day and the night they’d shared. The fire crackled, sending light and shadow dancing along the walls of the bedroom.

Kellan shifted, rolling to his other side.

That’s when Connor got his first peek at the scars scattered over Kellan’s back. He traced a fingertip over one of the longest, barely touching the puckered skin there. Rage filled him, and he hoped his assumptions were wrong. If Norman Rhodes had caused that, he would live to regret it. Connor wasn’t sure he had the power to inflict real pain, but if it took him the rest of his days, he would do his damnedest.

The hour grew late. Kellan rolled again, snuggling close. Connor drew him even closer and closed his eyes, finally able to sleep. Dreams of revenge followed.

6

The rest of the week was filled with exploration of the villages and sights around Lake Como. They hiked the gorge. Traveled into Como and played tourist. They ate, they drank, and Connor had the time of his life, watching as Kellan blossomed. He began a quiet, reticent man who had flourished under the Italian sun, growing more comfortable in his own skin. Kellan’s smiles spoke for themselves, warming Connor down to his soul.

Their nights were filled with another kind of exploration that Connor enjoyed even more. They’d licked and laved, tasted and touched, but they hadn’t gone further than pleasuring one another with mouths and hands. Every time he’d lead them toward penetration, Kellan had stiffened and moved away.

Which was fine. Intimacy didn’t have to include anal if his partner wasn’t into it. Yet there was something primal within. He wanted to claim Kellan as his, even though the man would likely never trulybehis. No matter what, Connor would always have a little piece of Kellan Rhodes that was entirely his.

While Kellan continued to shake off the past, he still had moments where he grew timid and jerked away from Connor’s touch—particularly when they were in public. Connor sensed it was subconscious; a knee-jerk reaction after a lifetime of hiding, but it stung, too, to be denied.

Connor buried the emotion and focused on the job at hand—ensuring Kellan enjoyed himself.

Yet, it no longer felt like a job, either.

The week sped by way too quickly. The night before they were to leave for the airport, they dined out. Again. Ana Maria hadn’t forgiven them for burning her dish earlier in the week, forcing them out for dinner the rest of their stay. Fortunately, they continued to get fresh pastries and fruit in the mornings, along with her outstanding coffee. Connor had already bought a copper set to take home, along with beans. They were stored in his luggage, ready for the return trip. Hopefully he’d be able to recreate it in Texas.

His luggagemight be ready for his return, but he wasn’t.

He and Kellan sat outside near a roaring fireplace on an open veranda overlooking the lake. The moon was full and heavy above the water, its reflection glistening over the surface. Its glow illuminated the night, and along with the fire and candles at the table, it was easy to see Kellan’s face.

And the frown lines filling it.

“What’s wrong?” Connor asked, lowering his fork. Glancing down, he noted Kellan’s bowl was nearly full. “Is your dinner not good?”

“Not much appetite,” Kellan replied, his voice scarcely above a whisper. He stared at his plate, using his fork to spear a piece of cavatappi, toying with it but not eating it.

“Why’s that?”

Kellan lifted his gaze, sorrow in his eyes. “I don’t want to go home.” His face screwed up, and he lowered his fork, reaching for his wine glass. “Yet, Ido,too. I miss Abigail. Calling every day isn’t enough… but…” He sighed, lifting his wine glass. “I don’t want to leave this place.”

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