Mending Him by Bonnie Dee and Summer Devon Page B

Mr. Worthington. I know that. Such good, close friends, but I think closer would be better.” He stroked his hand over Charles’s cheek, and ran his fingers through the thick, soft hair. Mm. He wanted to feel that hair against his mouth, perhaps taste the skin at his temple and throat, but dammit, Charles still gripped his shoulders.
    “You contradict yourself.”
    “Yes, I do.” Robbie laughed. “Every day is a giant hodgepodge of contradictions in my heart and brain when it comes to you. But see? It’s night, not day. We’re not under my uncle’s roof, and it is dark, and no one will know. If I have any regrets tomorrow, they will be mine alone, and I won’t blame you.” He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out the small leather-bound notebook he carried, along with the nub of a pencil. “See? I shall write this down right next to my estimations of the barley crop.” He flipped open the small book, such a familiar action, licked the end of the pencil, and began to write.
    “I am an adult.” He read the words he couldn’t see in the dark as he scrawled them in his book. “Anything I do tonight or any other night or day is my own look-out. No one else can be blamed for my actions, including my good, dear friend, Mr. Charles Worthington. Tonight I will concentrate only on desire. Signed, Robert Grayson.”
    “I had no notion you were capable of such silliness.” Charles’s smile warmed his voice.
    “I had no idea either. I think it’s good for me.” Robbie suddenly felt solemn as he tucked book and pencil away. Somehow, saying and writing those words felt as if he’d evoked a genuine pledge. “Casting away concerns just for tonight, just for now—that will be good. I don’t think I have ever purposefully abandoned duty. Another fresh experience thanks to you.”
    “Yes, this is new for me as well.”
    “You? You are a man of the world. You know all about pleasure. You have kissed hundreds of men and touched them too.” The thought of this made his breath come faster. Charles would use those clever, experienced hands on him. Now. Soon.
    “Hardly hundreds. The new experience is that I’m forced to worry about my partner.”
    Robbie patted the notebook in his waistcoat. “I’m not your concern, see? We’re done with talking, damn you.”
    “What would you like to do instead?” That warm, teasing tone would undo him.
    “No talking, no thinking—that leaves only feeling. I want to touch every inch of you. I wish we could undress and be naked, but not here.”
    “No,” agreed Charles. The single word was a growl.
    “But I shall touch you,” Robbie warned. “As much of you as I can.”
    “I hardly recognize you, Robbie.”
    “I don’t recognize myself. Come here. Oh, pardon. I forgot.” He must go to Charles, whose legs didn’t work, but then there was a creak and a shift, and Charles had moved close. He grabbed Robbie and hauled him onto his lap.
    Robbie leaned into a kiss and, yes, his hungry fingers found that warm hair, the unshaved skin and those impossibly wide, muscular shoulders.
    Charles’s arms surrounded him, a shelter and the storm in the same locked embrace.
    The kisses turned slow again, gentle and exploratory. But Robbie’s restlessness returned. He needed to move, and he must discover all of Charles. Hands weren’t enough. His body from his head to his cock to his thighs, hell, his toes, ached to touch Charles. He clutched Charles’s jacket and twisted. Placing his knees on the bench, Robbie spread his thighs wide to accommodate the large body under him.
    Now he was the taller of them and bent his head to taste Charles while he pushed, demanding and hot, against Charles’s torso and, ah, yes, that lovely hard tree branch of a cock.
    The breath hissed from Robbie’s mouth as he rubbed his prick against Charles. Too much cloth separated them. He reached down and unbuttoned their flies. He drew out the tails of their shirts, pushed them up, unbuttoned their