Page 85 of Beau and the Beast

God, what it would be like to put it to good use instead of just staining the sheets.

He was still mostly hard and the thought throbbed through him. The smell of his own sex flooded his senses and Wolfram shifted his weight, his cock slipping pleasantly against his skin where it was trapped.

And then Beau coughed.

Wolfram’s muscles all seized at once as he froze. Beau wasthere. He hadn’t dreamed that part.

Beau wasin his bed—the same bed where Wolfram’s body had decided to spill a goddamned pint of itself onto everything.

His internal clock told him that it was past sunrise. Beau would wake up soon no matter what Wolfram did. Silently, he patted a hand down the front of his body on top of the blanket, his sense of self-loathing roaring as he found the big, unmistakable wet patch at the front of his groin.

A breath ago, he’d been perversely proud of his output. Now his seed was cooling in his fur.

What thefuckdo I do now?

He couldn’t change the blanket without waking Beau.

Maybe if he moved fast enough, he could change in the dark, take a new blanket out of the wardrobe, and then take both the blanket and his ruined breeches with him into the bathroom to clean himself off.

It was his only shot.

Gingerly, he dragged the blanket off of Beau, hoping against hope that by some miracle he wouldn’t wake up.

Wolfram had no such luck. Beau stirred immediately, blinking big eyes in the dark at Wolfram.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice lazy with sleep.

“I’ve got to use the bathroom,” Wolfram said, knowing it made no sense and didn’t explain the fact that he was dragging the blanket away with him.

“Wolfram, you have the whole—hey—“

Beau pulled softly at the blanket but Wolfram wrested it from his grip, balling the thing up in his hands. He abandoned the idea of changing, instead pulling fresh breeches out of the wardrobe and tossing a clean blanket onto the foot of the bed.

Beau reached for the lamp on his side of the bed as Wolfram leaped for the bathroom door.

* * *

Beau scrubbedsleep from his eyes before blinking against the lamplight.

Wolfram had tossed a fresh blanket at him before disappearing.

Christ, the shedding thingreallybothered him,he thought.

Beau was struck through with guilt at the realization. He should have insisted that he sleep on a cushion instead of making Wolfram so self-conscious about his bed. It didn’t matter if the thought of getting Wolfram’s shed fur on him legitimately didn’t bother him. It botheredWolf, and he ought to have respected that.

Any hope of going back to sleep was gone now. Beau forced himself out of bed. He should head back to his room and change, lest someone from the staff see him slinking out of their boss’s study and get the wrong idea.

A thrill rolled through him and he bit down a grin.

He wished it was therightidea. He wished they’d spent the night before giving Wolfram’s staff something to gossip about instead of staying sound asleep, a respectable distance away from each other. Even so, he was in a distinctly better mood than he’d been the day before and he had Wolfram to thank for that.

He was about to leave when he heard water running in the bathroom and realized how rude it would be of him to simply disappear. Beau would at least wait until Wolfram was out of the bathroom to go back to his room.

Beau sat heavily on Wolfram’s side of the bed and picked up the first book off his nightstand. Emerson’sSelf Reliance.He must have brought it in from the study after Beau had mentioned it.

What would’ve happened last night if Beau had come onto him?

Had Wolfram been joking when he’d made the quip about wishing they’d met before his curse?

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