Page 56 of Close Quarter
Rhys twisted to face Silas. "Told you."
That earned him a hard but short kiss. "You are too brash for your own good." Silas backed fully under the spray of water. "And had we the time, I'd show you just how quickly I can recover."
Wouldn't that be a night? "What do we do now?"
Silas handed him a bar of soap. "That should be rather obvious."
He took the soap. Then poked Silas in the ribs. "Not what I meant. After dinner."
Silas turned and rinsed a coating of lather off his shoulders.
Tight-lipped, imperious bastard. "Silas." He jabbed him in the side. Twice. This time Silas flinched, gasped, and that haughty facade broke with a croak of laughter. Silas caught his hands.
"Stop!"
"Not until you tell me what I want to know."
Silas brushed his thumb across Rhys's cheek.
"We're quite a pair, aren't we?"
Rhys took a breath, but Silas kissed him before he could speak. A light kiss, but enough to stop his questions.Damn it.
"We," Silas said, "or rather, I will destroy Anaxandros and the rest of the soulless, as I was sent here to do."
"By angels." Rhys muttered the words. "You work for fucking angels."
"Angels don't procreate."
Rhys moved to tickle Silas, but he had already twisted away, a grin lighting his face.
Oh, that was good to see. A true smile, not one that hid other emotions. "What will I do?"
The smile dimmed. Silas wrapped strong arms around Rhys. "You kept me alive. You healed me. You've given me more of my element than I could have gotten, even standing on land. It's enough."
Rhys settled against Silas and let the warmth and strangeness of the man surround him. He didn't reply.
No way in hell Silas would approve of the idea forming in his head.
Chapter Nine
Silas studied the impeccable fall of tails over Rhys's ass. "And yet you can't wear a suit to save your life."
They stood in Rhys's cabin. While not as ostentatious as his own, the room still had the feel of luxury, no doubt paid for by some of the millions Rhys had inherited.
Rhys snorted and continued to tie his bow tie in the mirror. "I practically grew up in a tux. All those concerts." He finished and faced Silas. "I take it this meets with your approval?"
More than met. Silas kept his hands in the pockets of his pants to hide just how much he approved. "It'll do."
"Really?" Rhys stepped close and ran the knuckle of his forefinger up Silas's crotch, right over his cock. "You seem rather pleased."
"You are incorrigible." Silas didn't back away, didn't take his hands from his pockets either, lest he start undressing Rhys, then bend him over the nearest piece of furniture.
The dresser was far too high. The coffee table would work nicely, though. He jammed his hands farther into his pants.
Rhys grinned and slipped around him. "Cuff links," he said.
The evening was one of two formal nights on board the ocean liner. They could have dispensed with the tuxedos, had dinner at one of the buffets, then spent the last of the time available in wanton abandon.
