Page 21 of Vanquished by a Viscount (Tales from the Brotherhood #3)

Ten

G ray couldn’t seem to catch his breath. His arse was warm and sore, his limbs loose and rubbery, and the damp patch under him was uncomfortable, but as he turned his head to stare at Charlie, he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so complete.

It was a terrible sign. So was the vague look of bliss in Charlie’s eyes when the man turned his head to smile at him.

The entire purpose of their arrangement was physical satisfaction only.

And while Gray definitely felt that to a degree that was difficult to comprehend, it was the soft rightness in his breast that worried him.

“It wasn’t too much, was it?” Charlie asked, still breathless, though they’d been lying there for several minutes. “I was not too vigorous?”

“No, not at all,” Gray said, purring and grinning instead of answering dispassionately. “You know I like it rough.”

Charlie nodded. “I remember.”

Charlie’s smile slowly faded. The contentment Gray loved to see in his eyes was slowly replaced by worry. Moments later, and all emotion vanished from Charlie’s expression entirely.

It hurt to see. Gray’s chest squeezed, and his heart physically hurt to see the hard-won moment vanish into shame-tinged uncertainty.

“It is only an arrangement,” he said quickly, pushing himself on still-unsteady arms until he could stand and step back from the bed. “We agreed to the parameters beforehand.”

They had not agreed to the delicious feeling of being used that pervaded Gray’s entire body, however.

They hadn’t prearranged the way his hole felt stretched and heated, or the stickiness that matted the hair around his groin.

Nor had the used puffiness of his lips and the lingering taste of salt in his mouth been preordained.

Gray pushed away all those hints that he might have deeply miscalculated the effects of their simple arrangement. It was more of a challenge to ignore the way his heart pounded as he raked his gaze over Charlie lying spread and limp on his back across the bed, however.

Dear God, the man was divine.

Gray wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, realizing too late his hand was still sticky with his own spill. Even that was so erotic his cock twitched as if it might be able to find the energy for another go.

Charlie put to rest any thoughts in that direction by sitting up abruptly. “You are quite correct,” he said, directing his words to Gray’s balls instead of looking him in the eye. “It is an arrangement designed specifically to prevent the two of us from feeling guilt or regret about our actions.”

“Precisely,” Gray said with a nod. “We are grown men. We entered into a contract of sorts. We fulfilled the terms of the contract. That is all.”

“That is all,” Charlie echoed.

He dragged his eyes up to meet Gray’s at last.

A thousand memories, both wonderful and painful, assailed him like a thunderous breeze bashing open the windows and pummeling him.

Charlie was his first love and still the only one who had actually meant anything.

But did he mean anything now or was this just another dalliance to quash a deeper longing?

Charlie cleared his throat. “We’d best retreat to our own rooms now,” he said. “It was a tiring day.”

“Indeed, indeed,” Gray said, making no move to leave, nor to cover himself from Charlie’s hungry gaze. “Of course, you are already in your room,” he added lamely.

“Yes, quite,” Charlie said. He glanced up again, as his stare had once more returned to Gray’s dangling bits. “Unless…that is….”

“I should be going,” Gray spoke overtop of whatever enticing thing Charlie might say next. “The footman serving as my valet will talk in the morning if I am not abed when he arrives.”

In fact, Paul likely already knew where Gray was and what he was doing, particularly since the wily young man was a newly minted member of The Brotherhood himself.

“Right,” Gray said when the silence between them dragged on too long. He turned and began to gather his clothing to dress. “Tomorrow night, then?” he added because he couldn’t resist confirming that their passion would repeat itself.

Blessedly, Charlie repeated, “Tomorrow night,” with a good deal of fervor in his voice.

Charlie stood and assisted Gray in retrieving his clothing from the floor. He donned his trousers and slipped into his shirt so that he could walk Gray to the door and see him out into the hall like a gentleman.

Only after he’d stepped into the hallway did it occur to Gray that he should have ascertained whether anyone was there to observe them.

Thankfully, the halls of Hawthorne House were quiet.

It was not particularly late, but the day had been trying for everyone, and it was likely the entire party was already tucked into bed, attempting to put the miserable day behind them.

Gray stepped across to grasp the handle of his own door, but instead of marching straight through and putting what was likely necessary distance between him and Charlie, he turned back for one last look at the man who had just given him the best evening in recent memory.

Charlie continued to stand in his doorway, watching Gray with what Gray could only describe as longing in his eyes.

Gray was certain he could see words resting on Charlie’s lips, see a slight lean toward him, a lift of one of Charlie’s hands that might indicate his old lover would beg him to come back and spend the night in his arms.

Indeed, Gray hesitated on the threshold of his room.

He opened his mouth but had no idea what to say.

Did he want to return to Charlie’s arms?

Yes, if he was honest with himself, he did.

He’d never been so happy, never felt so safe as he once did sleeping in Charlie’s embrace.

But did he want to risk having his heart torn to shreds if Charlie chose to cast him off again? Absolutely not.

“Well,” he said, sending Charlie what he hoped was a cocky smile.

“Well,” Charlie repeated, slightly deflated, as if his courage had failed him.

Sod it, Gray wanted him. He wanted more than just a quick, rough tup over the edge of the bed. He wanted?—

Before he could do something foolish, like fly across the hall and back into Charlie’s arms, a door flew open at the far end of the hall and Barbara marched out, sobbing and shaking.

“Barbara, please,” Robert called after her, following her out of their room, radiating impatience. “I did not mean it that way at all.”

Gray and Charlie leapt back into their respective thresholds, eyes wide with shock, both at the scene that had suddenly interrupted their moment and at their moment itself. Gray’s heart was already hammering, but it reached a new intensity as Barbara rushed toward them.

“What is the matter?” Charlie asked, his expression of confused ardor replaced by frowning, brotherly concern.

Barbara’s sobs intensified, and she ran to her brother, throwing herself into Charlie’s embrace.

Gray winced, not so much out of jealousy for his sister-in-law doing precisely what he’d just been contemplating, but out of fear that evidence of his and Charlie’s earlier activities would be visually and olfactorily apparent.

“What has happened?” Gray asked Robert, stepping slightly down the hall toward his brother, though he did not for a moment believe that putting distance between himself and Charlie would distract Robert from guessing what his own drama had interrupted.

If Robert did guess the truth, he was too preoccupied with his own concerns as he met Gray a few feet down the hall from where Charlie was attempting to comfort a sobbing Barbara.

“We quarreled,” he said in a flat voice, staring at the back of his wife’s head.

“Barbara is out of sorts because of the day’s disappointments. ”

“They would not have been disappointments if you had supported me more fully,” Barbara said, half turning out of Charlie’s arms to shout at Robert.

“Please, my dear,” Robert hissed, glancing up and down the hall. “You will wake the others.”

“Oh, you know no one else is lodged on this hallway at present,” Barbara said as if it was a great sin for Robert to forget.

“Richard is spending the summer in Scotland and Ernestine is in Shropshire with Lady Rodington, or more specifically, with her brother. Your youngest siblings are in Paris with your mother, and you can see that Charlie and Gray are already awake, probably due to your incessant and unforgivable scolding of me.”

Gray saw a minute look of relief pass over Charlie’s face before indignation replaced it. “Have you been scolding my sister?” he asked Robert.

“No, no, not like that,” Robert said, half exasperated, half alarmed. “We were discussing the failures of the day.”

“Failures that are not in any way my fault,” Barbara hurled at him, “but which I am certain you hold me accountable for.”

“Barbara, as I have said numerous times, I do not hold you accountable for the rain,” Robert said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But you must admit, rushing out of the dining room before supper was concluded was?—”

“A necessary action to preserve my dignity,” Barbara interrupted, bursting into tears once more. “You humiliated me in front of my guests.”

“And you did not humiliate me in turn?” Robert demanded.

“Please, please,” Gray said, stepping to the side and holding his arms out, as if he were keeping two street urchins at bay. “Clearly, emotions are high. None of us will sleep until these matters are resolved.”

“Agreed,” Charlie said. Gray was surprised enough by the bastard’s agreement that he turned to face Charlie with wide eyes.

But there was no time for whatever feud remained between the two of them, so Charlie went straight on with, “Barbara, are you certain you are not just overly tired and sensitive?”

“So you do not believe I have been wronged as well?” Barbara squeaked, pulling slightly away from Charlie.