Page 30 of The Devil Himself
Rys sat in the breakfast room, which he’d had redecorated when he bought the house, making it more an extension of his library and study than the delicate, feminine room it had been.
There would be no Lady Emrys Grey, so there was no sense in having a room he did not use. He was perusing his correspondence, which included a note from Deacon Collingsworth that Daffyd had been in the previous night, spending lavishly, peevish that Cora was unavailable and, ultimately, so in his cups that he had passed out and had to be stuffed into a carriage and sent home unconscious.
The past three days had been… frustrating. Having Daffyd and Arthur followed had produced nothing. Luc in his home, a never-ending presence, had made him constantly hard, but even so, he would not deny himself at this time, so he had instructed Harris to keep the club running, and he was staying home.
Luc strode into the room after he finished his letters and was reading the morning paper, fully dressed for the first time since he’d been at Rys’s house.
“Good morning, Luc,” Rys said, studying him over the paper.
“Good morning, Rys.” Luc chose a plate, filling it with bacon, eggs, and fruit. “I think it’s time for me to go home.”
It seemed as though the floor dropped out from under him. To cover it, he sipped his coffee, eyeing Luc with deliberate insolence. “I beg your pardon?”
“I am healing well. And I have imposed on your kindness enough.” Luc wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Then perhaps rather than leaving and putting yourself in danger, you might instead want to revisit what we did not finish several nights ago, my dear.” He was selfish enough, and immediately aroused enough, to push that agenda all the way.
Luc’s cheeks flushed, the ruddy hue enhancing the blue of his eyes when he finally met Rys’s gaze. “I thought perhaps you had forgotten.”
His body tensed, muscle by muscle, his cock rising hard and insistent in seconds. He rose, sauntering toward Luc.
Luc backed away, plate clutched in both hands in front of him like a shield.
“I have forgotten nothing, Luc. I was waiting, despite the fact that I am truly no gentleman, for you to feel up to it.” He cornered Luc with his back to the buffet table.
“I—”
“But now I credit that you are impatient, and healed well enough for my attentions, and I will act accordingly.” He took the plate away and tossed it down between the eggs and the bacon. There was no footman in the room watching, for Rys preferred his privacy in the morning.
“Rys.” Luc stared at him, eyes wide.
“Yes?” He moved in and plastered his body against Luc’s, grinding his cock against the cradle of Luc’s hips.
“Oh.” A deep groan escaped Luc, and he looped his good arm around Rys’s neck. “I would rather do this than go home.”
“Good.” He took Luc’s mouth with his, devouring it. Ever since he had realized Luc shared his desires, this was all he had been able to think of.
Luc kissed him back with such fervor that he knew his lips would be bruised from pressing back against his teeth. It didn’t matter; the need he felt simply fueled his fire.
They devoured one another. There was no other word for it. Luc held him so close, one hand on the back of his head, one on his hip. And he wrapped an arm around Luc’s back, his other hand on the buffet table to brace them.
They broke for air, and he pulled back enough to look into those blue eyes, which blazed like the few cloudless summer days they had in England. “If you want me to stop, tell me now.”
Luc’s swollen mouth curved slightly. “Don’t stop.”
He groaned, kissing Luc again before letting his fingers and his mouth travel. He undid buttons, divesting Luc of his waistcoat and neckcloth, then opening his shirt. When he felt the flat panes of Luc’s chest and belly, both sprinkled liberally with golden hair a few shades darker than that on his head, he felt a deep surge of satisfaction.
Finally, he was getting to touch what he had been looking at for too long. Rys was not a patient man, so waiting had chafed at him.
“Rys.” Luc moaned, muscles rippling, as Rys flicked his little brown nipples.
“Do not let me hurt you.”
“I’m not feeling pain at all.” Luc’s breathless words made him smile.
“No? Good. The best medicine is pleasure.” He trailed his hands over Luc’s belly, impressed by the utter lack of softness. Too many aristocrats he saw in his club were soft. Dissolute. Luc was neither of those things.
“Mmmhmm.” Luc arched, that stiff shoulder not moving so well, but Luc’s hips had no such trouble.
