Page 25 of Vanquished By A Viscount
He sucked in a breath, pulling away from Charlie as quickly as he could with his muscles sore and cramped from the position he’d assumed over his former lover. His face felt as hot as the sun as he stumbled back into his own seat and tried to hurriedly stuff his flagging member back into his trousers. The task was not made easier by the sticky mess on his hand.
“I have a handkerchief, if you require it,” Charlie said with far too much formality.
“No, no, I have one of my own,” Gray said without looking at him.
Searching for his handkerchief was a perfect excuse to bring his focus into his own person rather than staring at Charlie and attempting to determine what the man thought. He was probably aghast at the way Gray had thrown himself at him, as if he were a whore desperate for his next meal.
But Charlie seemed just as flustered in the aftermath of their lovemaking as Gray felt. He searched for his handkerchief with shaking hands, then rubbed at the suspicious spot on his trousers. He’d already put himself away by the time Gray was brave enough to risk a look at him, which was its own sort of disappointment.
Dammit, had he no self-control at all where Charlie was concerned?
No. Evidently, he did not.
It did not take long for the two of them to clean themselves up to a reasonable degree, though anyone with any knowledge at all of what two men could do in a carriage would see the signs. Once everything was scrubbed, brushed, and put away, Gray glanced to the carriage door, debating making a run for it.
The rain was still pouring down, however. It seemed to be laughing at his discomfort. Gray knew full well the road around them was a sea of mud as well. He could exit the carriage, but he would be ankle-deep in the muck in no time.
Pride was one thing, but ruining a good pair of boots was beyond any sacrifice Gray was willing to make. Even if they were likely already ruined from getting the carriage out of the ditch.
Charlie cleared his throat a second time. “That was…unexpected.”
Gray peeked warily at him. His first instinct was to argue, but Charlie was correct. His second thought was to apologize, but he’d be damned if he apologized for something that had felt so good.
And it had been glorious, despite the regret that now lashed him.
No, it wasn’t regret, it was merely…uncertainty.
Gray cleared his throat as well, though it felt like a lame and redundant gesture, all things considered. “It seems we have unresolved business,” he said quietly.
That felt like a pathetic thing to say as well, but Charlie answered, “Yes, it seems as though we do.”
Gray held very still, studying Charlie and telling himself to be fair and reasonable. Charlie looked back at him, appearing as hesitant as Gray felt. There was something adorable about the man when he was shocked out of being his usual arrogant self. His expression was disarming, and the vulnerability in his eyes made Gray want to slide over to his seat, put his arms around him and?—
No! That was the very opposite of what he should do. It was precisely the problem. He knew better. He was older and wiser. Their relationship had ended painfully because of Charlie’s fickle nature. The very last thing he should want was to fold the man in his arms to comfort him with a tender, “There, there.”
He shifted uncomfortably, more aware than ever of his wet clothing, his sodden coat beside him, and the generally damp air inside the carriage.
“We should talk about this,” Charlie said in a low voice, his head tilted down slightly.
“Is there anything to talk about?” Gray answered, his voice too high and thin.
Charlie huffed out a breath and sagged back against his seat. “You know there is,” he said.
Gray thought about denying it, but there was no point. Hedidknow it. He knew that there were seven years of unresolved emotion and hurt between him and Charlie.
He chose to approach the sensitive topic from another angle entirely.
“It seems as though the temptation between us is as strong as it ever was,” he said.
Charlie held still for the briefest moment before nodding. “It is. I…I will confess that I felt the carnal pull from the moment I arrived at Hawthorne House last week.”
Gray would not be outdone. If Charlie was willing to admit it, then so was he. “As did I,” he said. “It has been an unwelcome intrusion in my thoughts throughout this last week.” He would not dare mention that a naked and rampant Charlie had been the subject of most of his dreams for the past few nights, or that his wrist was sore from his attempts to alleviate the pressure.
“For me as well,” Charlie said awkwardly.
The two of them stared heatedly at each other for several potent seconds.
When Gray felt himself in danger of flinging himself at the bastard a second time, he said, “It seems our endeavor to stay away from each other has not been effective.”
