The wrought-iron door handle was cold against Hartley’s fingers. Quite why he was gripping it so tightly he didn’t know; it had to be fear or excitement. Or both, coiled so inextricably within him that he couldn’t tell which one was which.
It was different in candlelight. Last time there had been barely any light; it had been easy to forget himself, to get lost in the rush of desire that had taken hold. Now, with enough light to see both the cramped tightness of the room and a glimpse of his own white face in the mirror above the basin, it was almost impossible to imagine feeling enough pleasure to overcome the terror filling him.
He held his breath as Mr. Balfour moved closer. Close enough to press against him, chest to chest, thigh to thigh. Hartley sighed, a deep shiver running through him as he looked into the man’s warm brown eyes.
He couldn’t even think of him as Mr. Balfour anymore. Not in this naked, vulnerable light. Master, servant, Mr. Hartley, Mr. Balfour; no rank, no polite form of address, quite held up to scrutiny. Not here. Not now.
The man in front of him was Josiah. As for himself, he was no one, no one at all. Just a terrified creature in desperate need of relief, of fulfilment that only Josiah could provide.
Josiah’s murmur was full of unexpected tension. “I can see why you don’t want me to take the lead.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m shorter than you. It doesn’t work.”
Hartley couldn’t help but chuckle. “Are you trying to distract me?”
“Yes. Well. Yes and no.”
“I never said you couldn’t take the lead.”
“Call it intuition.”
“I…I suppose I’m not used to it.”
“Neither am I.” Josiah paused. “At all.”
Was he frightened? No, he couldn’t be. Both of them couldn’t be frightened. Hartley stared, briefly shocked at the idea of it, before Josiah’s lips met his, and thoughts were suddenly, deliciously drowned in feeling.
There was no room anymore. No door, no walls, no confinement whatsoever. With Josiah’s kiss came infinite space; a liberation so complete that Hartley couldn’t help but sigh with relief. He brought his other hand to Josiah’s hair, pulling him closer, not caring how clumsy he had to look as he eagerly searched for yet more oblivion.
He was hungry for him. He’d been hungry since the candle room. The want that consumed him now, the sharp need twinned with the fragile feeling of safety that Josiah’s presence gave him, was so urgent that he didn’t care about being elegant. He certainly didn’t care about taking the lead.
Josiah had been right. When he’d mentioned it in the study, asked that question, Hartley had been reticent. Not because the idea was repellent, but because he’d simply never considered the idea of taking orders before.
But that was Josiah’s magic. He made one consider, think, change. And the idea of putting himself in the man’s capable hands for more than calming fear sent a jolt of lust through Hartley that couldn’t, wouldn’t be ignored.
He ran his fingers through Josiah’s dark, close-clipped hair, his fingertips thrilling at the feel of it. Josiah sighed through the kiss, stroking the roof of Hartley’s mouth with his tongue; Hartley’s knees buckled, the sudden onslaught of sensation too swift to keep him entirely upright.
“Are you well?” Josiah pulled away, frowning. “If you want to open the—”
“Damn it, don’t stop. Please.”
For a long moment, Josiah simply looked at him. Hartley held his breath, hoping against hope that his plea hadn’t sounded like an order. Then, with a quiver of his lips that didn’t seem entirely voluntary, Josiah smiled.
Oh, that smile. That cautious, bruised grin that showed a lack of belief in the happiness behind it, a mistrust of the pleasure he felt. But there was no time to dwell on it, to let that observation flower into sentiment, because time spent not kissing Josiah was time wasted.
He couldn’t help but moan when their mouths met again, a vulnerable sound that he half hoped Josiah hadn’t heard. He leaned against the door, slowly loosening his grip on the handle as the kiss grew deeper, arching his back as Josiah slid one arm around his waist. The man’s hand on the small of his back was gentle, reassuring, but the effect was more erotic than a multitude of more obvious touches that Hartley had experienced in the past.
Perhaps this was why he’d been unsure about Josiah taking the lead. Because somewhere deep down he’d known that the simplest touch from Josiah, the briefest brush of his fingers or press of his lips, would have him begging for more in a way that was frankly unwise.
“There, now.” Josiah murmured through the kiss. “Are you more comfortable?”
“You’ve stopped again.”
“I know. I think I’m learning how to take the lead.”
“I see.”
“If you’re willing, of course. If you’re not, I’m—”
“I am. Willing, I mean.”
“Good.” That smile again. “I hope it helps.”
Helps? Hartley blinked, confused, before the size of the room and the closed door fell on him again. Of course, help; that’s what Josiah was doing. “It will.”
“I’m glad.”
“So can you—”
He stopped, his words dissolving into a grateful sigh as Josiah kissed him again. An eager, joyous kiss, with a hint of force that only highlighted the gentleness of the man’s fingers on his back. Hartley ran his hand down to the nape of Josiah’s neck, dizzy at the sensation, his cock hard enough to hurt as he thrust his hips against Josiah’s own.
Josiah was hard, too. The feel of him mingled with the memory of the candle room: that brief, electric moment of connection. Standing together, separated by buckskin, linen and little else, the thought of exploring what lay beneath had Hartley reaching for the waistband of Josiah’s breeches.
“Now, now.” Josiah’s soft laughter in his ear was intensely frustrating. “I’m leading. Remember?”
“Then hurry up and lead, damn it.”
“If you’re impolite I’ll have to open the door. We can’t make progress if you’re too excitable.”
“You know very well we can.”
“Then let me.”
From THE SERVANT AND THE GENTLEMAN by Annabelle Greene. Used with the permission of the publisher, Carina Press. Copyright © 2022 by Annabelle Greene.
THE SERVANT AND THE GENTLEMAN by Annabelle Greene
Society of Beasts #3
A surly gentleman and his overworked clerk fake a relationship in this swoonworthy Regency romance from Annabelle Greene.
William Hartley’s wealth and social standing often make up for his short temper, but they can’t cure his claustrophobia. He’d lost hope of finding help for it, until meeting Josiah Balfour. In a moment of panic, Josiah’s presence is a balm to his senses, leaving Hartley calm for the first time in months.
Josiah Balfour knows his place—and it’s not in the bed of a gentleman. As the administrator for the Society of Beasts, he’s responsible for the club’s well-being. When a threat to the Society emerges from an unexpected quarter, it falls to Josiah to deal with it. But Hartley is willing to help, even if it involves posing as a couple to infiltrate a rival club.
Josiah needs Hartley’s prestige to help him save the Society, while Hartley simply needs Josiah. Their relationship might be a sham, but the desire between them is all too real. Stuck in close quarters with everything they love on the line, they discover that everything might just include each other.
Romance Historical [Carina Press, On Sale: May 17, 2022, e-Book, / eISBN: 9780369717511]
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About Annabelle Greene
Annabelle Greene writes hot, heartwarming historical romances with plenty of humor. When she isn’t crafting the perfect HEA, she’s making pasta or walking along Italy’s beautiful Adriatic coast.
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