Page 19 of Milo
I’d managed to see all that and keep him as a little brother until the other day when he laughed at something he’d said and I’d looked at him.Reallylooked at him. And as if for the first time I saw the sheen in his brown hair that’s the colour of muscovado sugar. I’d taken in the chocolate-button brown of hiseyes with their thick lashes, the sharp bones of his face, the full pink lips, and the shy warmth of him.
I’d blinked and said something facetious, hoping that the heavy beating of my heart was just breathlessness but knowing that the stiffness of my dick belied this.
Ever since then it’s like a lid’s been taken off a secret and I can’t go back. I can’t stuff this Jack back into his box. He doesn’t fit anymore; the way Milo doesn’t fit my preconceptions. I’ve tried to ignore it because the whole fucking scenario is like something fromHollyoaks. I’ve slept with his brother, for fuck’s sake. I slept with him a few months ago before all this started. How can I move on straight from him to his younger brother who I remember playing with his toys? I shake my head.Get a fucking grip.
At that moment he looks up and sees me coming towards him and he smiles. His smiles always look slightly mysterious to me, like secrets are resting on those lips. I wonder if I kissed them if I could suck those secrets into my mouth the way I’d suck on those full pouty lips. Take his smile into me the way I’d take his breath and spit. My step falters and I stutter in a breath, and he straightens with a puzzled frown.
That right there is my salvation because it would never occur to diffident Milo that as I cross this field, I’m thinking of fucking him. He’d never believe it, the way he’d never believe that the rich arsehole coming to visit him wants more than his opinion on some poxy paintings.
I should seize this unawareness and move onwards, the way I’ve always done. Good sex and on to the next, my life has a simple rhythm that I love. Good friends, family, food, a nice house, and a hot, willing body whenever I want. Life is great and complicating things with Milo could be disastrous, not least because of what I could do to him. He has a need for security and stability that’s written all over him. I would trample thatunderneath my feet as I walk away, the way I always do, and I can’t do that to him. He means too much to me, this shy, gentle boy who I’ve known for so many years.
Resolved, I clear my expression as I reach him. “What are you doing here?” I say far too heartily, but he ignores it, giving me one of his wide smiles.
“We came for a visit. Cora needed some fresh air, so we’ve been for a walk.”
I smile because Milo’s love of walking is legendary. He seemed to get a taste for it when I used to drag him all over the estate as a way of getting him out of the house, and now he’ll walk happily for miles in any weather. I’ll often see him about the estate and wish that I could join him and walk together again, listening to his quiet voice and making him laugh, loving the sight of that half-cautious smile spreading over his face.
I look down at the baby cocooned in a sling held close to Milo’s torso so the only things that can be seen are her bright button eyes and rosy cheeks and a cute little red bobble hat. I reach out to trail my fingers down her soft downy cheek and subtly inhale the scent of baby shampoo that clings to him along with his own warm scent of lemon and rosemary that always makes him smell a bit like a herb garden in summer.
Cora coos and wriggles frantically as she manages to extract one tiny hand in a little red mitten and waves it at me. I lean down and grab it, making munching noises on her fingers while she chuckles.
I look up and still at the intent look on his face and for a long second, we stare at each other until the sounds of the chainsaw and the men shouting in the background fade away so there’s just us and the gentle soughing of the wind through the trees.
I shake my head to clear it and search for a topic of conversation that doesn’t include the opening of, ‘I’d like to pushyou against that tree over there and stuff you full of my cock.’ I look down at the fabric baby carrier and find it.
“What is this?” I huff.
“It’s a baby sling,” he says patiently.
The slight hitch in his speech is barely noticeable now but I still hear it. He doesn’t stammer much anymore which is a testament to all of the work he’s done with speech therapists, but if you listen carefully you can still hear the indrawn breaths and hesitations. I like it because it’s so him. Such a subtle, barely there symptom of something a quiet man has striven so hard to conceal, yet it’s as much a part of him as his expressive eyes and herby scent. It gives me a feeling of privilege that I know him so well that I can tell.
I shake my head, pulling myself back to the conversation as he looks at me, waiting with his lip quirked. “You’re carrying my goddaughter around in something that looks like it came from fucking Tie Rack. It surely can’t be safe.”
“She’s my goddaughter too,” he says patiently. “And yes, it’s perfectly safe. You’re just overprotective.”
Not just of her,I think, staring at his pale, eager face.Shit!
I think hard for something to say that doesn’t involve my tongue hanging out and grunting, seeing as I seem to revert to being a caveman around him at the moment. An image comes into my head of him doing yoga the other day. He’d been lying on a mat in the lounge with Cora in her bouncy seat. She’d been utterly fascinated, and I can’t blame her. I’ve never seen anyone move so gracefully and have such a command over his body as he contorted himself into position after position. His lean body had been corded with muscle and dusted in sweat and had formed the basis for a massive wank session that I’m ashamed to admit I had in the shower afterward.
At the time he’d blushed when he saw me watching and explained that he’d taken it up because the breathing involved helps him with his speech.
I look into his warm brown eyes that are watching me curiously as his hand pats and soothes Cora’s back, and a curious longing comes over me. I want to be involved in his life. Not in an overprotective big brother way but in the way a man has if he’s interested in him. I don’t just want to tease and joke with him anymore. I want to know him in a way that no one else does. I want to know what thoughts flash through his head and for him to speak them to me when he won’t do that for anyone else. I want to be in his life in a way I’ve never wanted to do with any other man, even his brother.
I find myself opening my mouth and words fly out unconsidered or censored. “Will you teach me how to do yoga?”
There’s a stunned silence for a second and myriad thoughts flash across his face before he settles on amusement. I swallow hard.
“Why?” he asks, as well he should.
“Erm.” I think hard. I can’t say what I really want. He wouldn’t believe me and there’s no point anyway because it can never go anywhere. I’m just infatuated with him at the moment because it’s novel. I’ve never been attracted to anyone I’ve really known other than Gideon. The fact that this is his brother and it’s like the plot of a Mills and Boon book means I know it won’t come to anything. But still, there’s this yearning inside me that I’ve never felt before to know this fey-looking man in front of me.
I realise that he’s still waiting for me to speak and flush. “Erm. I’m just a bit stressed at the moment. I ache all over and I’ve heard that yoga can help with that.”
His face immediately clouds with concern. “Of course I will,” he says hurriedly. “And you know if you’re stressed you canalways talk to me. I’m not sure how much help I’ll be, but if I can help you in any way you know I will in a heartbeat.”
I feel so fucking bad at this moment and equally warm inside at the feeling that he cares enough for me to react like that. But then I remind myself that he’s the reason I’m stressed anyway, so we can do yoga together, goddammit.
I have a strange feeling that I’m setting myself on the road to being truly fucked over this man, and pretty soon I won’t be able to turn back.
