Page 29 of The Devil Himself
“Of course.” Rys took the cover off a bowl of pea soup, handing him a spoon, then proceeded to stack bread, cheese, and meat together for himself.
“What did you discover?” Luc asked, sipping soup. But it was the juice that really did what he needed, bright and clear and good from Rys’s orangery.
Rys sighed. “Not much more than we knew.” Rys relayed what he had learned from a lady of the night named Cora, and Luc mulled that over, trying to connect the pieces like one of Owen’s children’s puzzles.
“So do we simply have them watched?”
“For now? Yes. That seems the only way.” Rys munched his sandwich. “Or I could have them beaten within an inch of their lives preemptively.”
“Rys.” He had to laugh, though. “That would be as bad as they are.”
“I have told you before, Luc. I am not a nice man.”
“Mmm. But then you bring me pea soup.” He ate a piece of bread and a goodly bit of soup, but it was the juice he returnedto. Then he surprised himself by yawning. Honestly, he was as bad as a child.
Rys moved the tray to the low table in front of the sofa. Then he grabbed one of the blankets to wrap it around him.
Luc found himself leaning, and Rys propped him up, pressing them together from shoulder to hip. “You should go to bed.”
“I should,” he mumbled. “But this is too comfortable.”
“It’s dangerous, Luc.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I am an admirer of men.”
It took several heartbeats for him to understand what Rys meant by that, and then he looked up into those smoky gray eyes, understanding the glances and words he’d gotten of late. “So?”
“Luc…”
He reached up with his good hand to touch Rys’s face. “I am in no condition to explore it today, but you would find me amenable.”
Rys’s eyes went wide, his pupils dilating. “I would?”
“You would.”
“Then I vow we shall revisit this again. Soon.” And Rys bent to kiss him, mouth sealing over his, lips firm and hot and perfect.
Luc and his wife had shared many a passionless embrace in the pursuit of an heir. As soon as his son was born, he had rarely revisited her bed. Just enough to try for a spare.
Rys’s kiss was a revelation. It brought everything in him to life, his lips tingling, his cock rising despite his exhaustion. He started to reach up with his other hand but grunted in pain when his wound made itself known.
Rys pulled back, jaw clenched. “My apologies, Luc. I would not ever hurt you.”
He snorted. “I hurt myself. But I would agree to do this again when I am better able.”
Rys took Luc’s good hand in his and pressed it over the placket of Rys’s breeches, the move crude and sexual and exciting. He had seen the size of it during their dinner together at the club, but feeling it was infinitely better. “Soon, Luc. It cannot be too soon.”
He nodded, caught by that silver-gray gaze. “Soon.”
“Good.” Rys rose abruptly. “And now I will show you to your room.”
He stood, his belly full, his shoulder aching.
But Luc was no longer at all sleepy. In fact, he had a feeling it would take him hours to fall asleep tonight.
Twelve
