Page 8 of Isaiah and Jameson
“Ah, sorry.” Jameson chuckled. Right. No more anger. Isaiah would think it was directed at him.
“Did I offend?” Isaiah asked. “I didn’t mean to.”
“No, no. I was just thinking how this had to be terribly hard for you.” He stroked Isaiah’s wrist, the skin smooth, almost poreless. “I feel oddly protective of you already.”
“Do you?” Isaiah’s eyelids went heavy, the pale eyelashes surprisingly long and thick against the pale cheeks.
“Mmmm. I am. You inspire me, sweet.” Did he dare a kiss? Jameson knew he was the daring type.
“Th-thank you. I should let you enjoy your meal.”
“You’re helping me enjoy it. Unless you have something pressing?”Please don’t leave me. Don’t have anything you need to do.
Isaiah tilted his head. “No. I cleared my week for you.”
“Do you want to go to somewhere less formal? I would love to talk with you some more. The fire is lovely, but we’re just perching here. It feels so stiff.”
“Would you like to see your quarters? They’re in my personal part of the house, if not my wing.”
“I would like that, yes.” Now they progressed. Jameson wanted to cheer.
“Bring your glass, and I’ll show you.” Isaiah stood and took his own wine, holding one hand out to Jameson.
He took that hand, feeling the same jolt of awareness sizzle down his spine. This was going to be so much fun!
