Page 39

Felix

Felix stared at the burnished umber wood that made up the ceiling of his bathing chamber.

Ironic how he was nearly crushed by a beam not too long ago, and here he was, laying beneath them again.

More vulnerable this time, considering he was in the bath.

But he knew he had nothing to worry about when it came to the structure of Devonford Castle.

He sank lower into the water, only warm now.

After the accident at the cottage, they’d all resumed cleaning up the cottage and readying it for the new beam, which would be put in tomorrow.

Then he, Thorne and the Duke had ridden over to the river pool to try to scrub as much of the filth off as they could.

Once they’d arrived back at the castle, they’d all gone their separate ways to get properly clean.

Which was why Felix was sitting in bathwater quickly growing cold, lost in thought.

Contemplating. After the whole piano debacle, he and Thorne had fallen into a comfortable pattern of friendly, yet polite interactions during the day—with the occasional offhand remark laced with innuendo thrown in by Thorne, because the man apparently couldn’t help himself—and coaxing as many orgasms as possible from each other at night.

It was…unthinkable that Felix had this opportunity. To be with someone, someone he was extremely attracted to, and not have to fear the consequences. He’d pinch himself to make sure it was all real. But he thought having a beam nearly collapse on him was proof enough that he was very much alive.

So what was he waiting for? He had a powerfully built, virile man—his lips twitched—quite literally at his beck and call.

One with a severe brow and enigmatic grey irises that were in contrast to his smart retorts and playful jests.

Thorne was a Viking. A man whose presence made others take a step back, hesitate.

A beast. One Felix wanted to taunt, sharpen its teeth, and then let it loose. On himself.

But that was just Thorne’s exterior. Underneath it all, he was a cheeky cove who loved pranks and a good laugh. One who’d proved himself trustworthy. Who’d used his own body to shield Felix from harm. Power and strength, yet soft and playful.

Felix didn’t think Thorne would ever understand what that act had meant to him.

It had felt like…a sign. Thorne wasn’t the kind of man who would use Felix’s body and then discard him, only to turn around and hurl accusations that would cost Felix his life.

No. Thorne’s first thought had been protecting Felix.

Hell, Thorne had saved him, physically wrenching him off that ladder.

Kept Felix safe at the cost of his own well-being.

That was the sign. The revelation that Thorne wouldn’t betray Felix like he’d been all those years ago.

The sign that it was time to stop running scared and take what he wanted.

He set his jaw. He was going to. Felix sat up and reached for the pile of towels on the stool beside the bathtub.

He’d get out of the bath, get ready, and ring for Thorne.

He picked up a towel—a very small towel. His brows slowly drew together. He reached for another. Also, small. And the one below that… Bloody fucking hell. God damn you, Thorne! But even as he cursed the man, his lips tugged up.

He turned and yanked the bell pull on the wall next to the tub. Then he settled back in the water and closed his eyes. He supposed being wet and naked would work just as well for what he had planned.

A few moments later, footsteps sounded. Felix’s eyes snapped open.

“You rang, my lord.”

Felix’s mouth twitched at the faux formality. The man was a cheeky brat. “You came rather quickly,” he said, arching a brow.

Thorne’s face remained impressively impassive. “You naked in a bath lends itself to me…coming quickly.”

Felix snorted and let his head fall back. “You’re something else.”

Thorne winked. There he was. “Did you require something, Bentley? I’m happy to assist in any way you need.” Thorne fluttered his eyelashes innocently. “Perhaps you missed a spot?”

Felix ducked his chin, biting his lip. Despite the chill of the bathwater, he warmed inside. Something about this man made Felix feel light . His lungs weren’t tight; his heart flounced happily in his chest. He didn’t understand what it was. It must be the man’s humor that caused it.

“You know exactly why I rang, Thorne.” He lifted a damning towel. “You only provided me with these tiny cloths. What am I supposed to do with”—he shook the scrap of a towel—“this little thing.”

Thorne lifted a shoulder. “That does seem like a troublesome predicament for you. Unfortunately, it’s wash day. Those were all we had left.”

Felix scoffed. “My arse.”

Thorne grinned and rocked back and forth on his feet. The man was much too pleased with himself. “Well, if that was all, my lord. I should get back to my duties.”

“I don’t think so, Thorne.” Felix stood. And took immense satisfaction in the way the man’s sharp jaw went slack, his Adam’s apple bobbing repeatedly as his gaze raked over Felix’s nude form. Felix threw a towel at Thorne, and it hit him smack in the face.

“You know, I did this at first as a jest,” Thorne said hoarsely. “But now that I’m here, this isn’t funny in the least. And I am incredibly happy with my decision.”

A chuckle rumbled from deep in Felix’s throat. “Come on, then. We don’t have all day. With the two of us working to get me dry, we can get into my bed much faster.”

The speed with which the man moved after that was astonishing. Then it was a flurry of towels as they quickly worked to get Felix dry.

“Damn you, Bentley. You’re drying all the fun parts,” Sam whined.

Felix dragged a last towel over his hair and threw it with the rest of the discarded cloths in the corner of the chamber. “Don’t worry.” He lifted his brows and smirked. “I’ll still let you play with the fun parts.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

“What can I say? I’m a giving man.” He turned and strutted into the bedchamber. A hungry groan came from behind him, and he grinned.

“Your arse is a fucking work of art. Why are people not painting that and hanging it up in their homes?”

A laugh burst from Felix, and he glanced over his shoulder, where Thorne’s stare was locked on Felix’s arse, wiping a hand across his mouth like he was a man starved. “Play your cards right, Thorne, and maybe you’ll get a taste.”

Stormy irises snapped to Felix’s, eyebrows lost somewhere beneath the ebony locks falling over Thorne’s forehead.

Thorne was on Felix before Felix could take his next breath.

Fingers dug into Felix’s sides, his body wrenched flush against Thorne’s, a certain part of Thorne very happy with the idea Felix had just planted.

The man’s lips coasted over Felix’s as he spoke. “Don’t tease me, Bentley.”

Thorne’s fingers slid around to cup Felix’s arse, and he squeezed, grinding their hips together.

Felix’s eyes slid shut, and his teeth sank into Thorne’s bottom lip, giving it a little tug.

Bloody hell, he wanted this. He was taking this for himself, taking it back .

He would bury the old memories with a new one.

That way, if they ever resurfaced, he’d have this to turn to, to drown out the bad.

Felix pulled away and backed up until the mattress bumped into the backs of his thighs. Thorne prowled after Felix, that hooded onyx gaze like a caress. Felix shivered, and Thorne tracked the movement, bit his lip. Thorne’s right hand flexed, trembled.

“What do you want, Bentley?” came Thorne’s husky question.

Felix drew in a steadying breath but held the man’s stare. “Fuck me, Thorne.”

Thorne stilled inches from Felix. And then they both moved at once, their bodies colliding, mouths finding each other, desperate, urgent, demanding.

They were all groping hands and wandering lips as they divested Thorne of his clothing.

Small thumps followed, Felix’s attention catching on a loose button rolling across the carpet.

“Easy. Now that’s going to need mending,” Felix murmured between fevered kisses.

Thorne nipped Felix’s lips while shoving his breeches down and kicking out of them. “Good thing I’m a fair hand with a needle.”

Thorne ripped off his shirt and then they were skin to skin. Felix sucked in a sharp breath. “Your hands are good at other things,” he said breathlessly. Said hands were currently kneading Felix’s arse, and he melted against Thorne, head falling to the man’s strong shoulder.

“I’m a man of many talents.”

“Mmm.” Felix could do nothing but agree, even if it would just feed the man’s vanity. Because, damn the man, it was true.

The ground vanished from beneath Felix, and a heartbeat later he was bouncing softly on his back, sprawled in the middle of his mattress.

But the surprise was swallowed by heady desire as Thorne slowly prowled over him, a black panther in the shadowed crimson canopy.

One that had spotted his next meal. The beast was loose.

Thorne’s lips danced over Felix’s neck, and Felix groaned when the man’s lips grazed the spot just below his ear that drove him wild.

Nipped with his teeth. The man always seemed to know exactly what made Felix turn to putty beneath him, like he was perfectly attuned to Felix’s pleasure.

Like Felix’s pleasure was important to him. Like Felix was important to him…

“The oil’s on the nightstand,” Felix said quickly, shoving that thought away.

Cold air slapped Felix’s overheated skin, but Thorne was back in the next breath, vial of oil in hand. “Do you want me to get you ready, or would—”

“I’ll do it.” Felix cut him off and took the oil.

A flutter of nerves swam in his stomach. He hadn’t meant to say that, but it’d been a knee-jerk reaction. A way to delay Thorne from breaching him. Which was daft. That was the whole point of tonight. He swallowed down the apprehension and dropped his voice to a husky register.

“You just sit back and enjoy the show.”

Thorne cursed.

Felix slowly slid his feet up until his knees were bent.

Thorne fell back on his heels, hands clenched on his own knees, knuckles white.

Felix shook a generous amount of oil into his palm and then threw the vial to the side.

He coated his fingers, and Thorne’s gaze tracked the movement; he licked his lips.

Then Felix let his thighs fall open. Thorne’s gaze dropped to the center of Felix, and his lips parted on a whimper as yearning stole over his features.

Oh God. That look. On this man. Dark, masculine, desperate.

It was dangerous. Felix’s fingers slid between his legs, brushing under his ballocks before massaging over his hole.

An animalistic sound pulled from deep in Thorne’s throat.

He worked himself open. Strangled guttural noises flew from deep in Thorne’s chest, louder the more Felix stretched himself.

It was utterly depraved. Felix’s hips bucked against his fingers, all apprehension gone now.

Pressure coiled at his spine, tingling as he thrust his fingers.

Felix added a third, and Thorne’s hand shot to his cock and squeezed, eyes slamming shut.

And if Thorne nearly coming undone just watching Felix wasn’t the most tantalizing thing ever, Felix didn’t know what was.

Felix scissored his fingers, gaze locked on the weeping turgid head of Thorne’s cock. “Now,” he rasped, pulling his hand from between his thighs. “Now, Thorne.”

“Thank fuck,” Thorne groaned, and shifted on his knees until he was between Felix’s thighs.

He pushed Felix’s knees up, so they nearly rested on Felix’s chest, completely exposing him.

A small flicker of unease crawled up Felix’s spine, but he let out a slow breath.

There was no need for disquiet. In some preposterous twist of fate, Felix had come to trust Thorne.

The blunt head of Thorne’s cock pressed against Felix.

Felix’s body instantly marbleized. No. He refused to lock up.

Muscle by muscle—arms, thighs, calves, toes—Felix forced his body to relax.

He bore down, and Thorne slipped past the tight ring of muscles.

It burned like the devil, and there Felix’s muscles went, getting all rigid again.

“Breathe, Bentley,” Thorne coaxed gently.

He coasted his hands up and down Felix’s calves. Soothing. Strong. Safe.

He was safe.

Remember that, Felix. You are safe.

“I’m doing my best. Not the easiest thing to do when I feel like I’m being split apart by that same beam that almost crushed me earlier.”

Thorne barked out a laugh, sinking a little farther. Felix relaxed a little, the levity helping.

“Some men like being split in two.” Thorne winked.

Felix growled. “No other men here, Thorne.”

Thorne’s eyes widened briefly before his lids fell heavy, a self-satisfied smirk gracing those kiss-swollen lips. “Oh, Bentley. You jealous?” He brought his fingers to his lips and kissed them. “Exquisite.”

He rolled his hips and sank deeper. He pushed Felix’s legs open wider and then slid a hand over Felix’s abdomen. Felix’s breath caught at the almost…reverent touch.

“Don’t worry. No one else here, Bentley.” Those grey eyes pinned Felix to the mattress. “Only you.”

Felix would never understand why, but those two soft words shattered the already damaged organ in his chest. The sentiment should have been something that eased Felix’s fears, should have filled him with warmth, allowed him to let go and just be.

But instead, everything inside twisted, constricted, and his body went stiff, a frantic need to flee overwhelming him.

His breath shook as he tried to keep the torrent barreling forward under control.

No. He wouldn’t let William win. That man couldn’t take this from him.

The thing was, this act already took an immense amount of trust for Felix, which was why he hadn’t allowed another man the privilege since…

But with two words, Thorne tore away all of Felix’s protective layers, adding not just Felix’s body to the mix, but his heart.

Making Felix utterly and irrevocably vulnerable.

And he wasn’t sure he was ready to allow himself to be that.

His chest hollowed at the same time a searing hot fury swirled deep in his stomach. He didn’t want to be broken anymore. He didn’t want that man to hold power over him any longer.

But with the way his body had gone rigid, hard as glass and moments from fracture…

Felix didn’t have any say in the matter.

One could scream, beg, plead to be fixed, but if he’d learned anything over the years…

Wishing didn’t heal a bloody thing.