B.”
Niall was panting and tears streamed down his face as he finished the letter and pressed it to his heart. Blake wanted him. He’d been right all along. He’d enjoyed what they’d done the night before. But he was conflicted. Niall felt the pain of Blake’s words as though it were his own pain. The world Blake came from and the expectations that had been heaped on his shoulders were a world away from his own circumstances. He could hardly blame the man for being confused and anxious. But Blake wanted him. That was all that mattered.
He folded the letter carefully, tucking it into the inside pocket of his jacket, then splashed a bit of cold water from the jug on the table under the window over his face. As he headed back to the auditorium, he was certain he looked a mess. At least he could blame it on the same thing every other student at the university could blame red, puffy eyes and distraction on—studying and the strain of looming exams.
“Sorry for the delay,” he announced as he strode back into the room. He thought about adding an excuse for his absence, but opted against it as he strode to the stage with renewed vigor. “Let’s run through the last couple of scenes. Chorus members, if you’re satisfied with your dance, you’re free to go.”
Morton and his friends wandered slowly off the stage, laughing and shoving each other, completely oblivious to the deeper drama happening right next to them.
Blake did a poor job of concealing his expectation as he climbed onto the stage, forgoing the stairs in favor of looking athletic, staring heavily at Niall as he did. Niall couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he went to retrieve his script before taking the stairs onto the stage. He stole only furtive glances at Blake, not trusting himself to spend any more than a fraction of a second looking at him. He’d give them both away if he did.
As it was, he didn’t do a good enough job of acting to fool everyone.
“Is there something between you and Stanley?” Paul murmured to him as he helped Niall rearrange the furniture on the stage that was standing in as set pieces.
“No,” Niall answered, a little too quickly and too vehemently. He laughed nervously, intending to cover his slip, but likely only making things worse. “What makes you say that?”
“It’s just that the sparks between you are palpable,” Paul continued with a teasing grin, speaking low enough that no one would overhear.
“They are not,” Niall argued. When Paul’s expression turned flat and doubtful, Niall rushed on. “We’re playing opposite each other. That’s all. Blake is a brilliant actor. If you’re sensing anything at all, it’s acting. There’s no need to go blurring the lines between what’s real and what’s imaginary.”
“If you say so.” Paul clearly didn’t believe a damn thing Niall said.
Niall shook his head, wondering if he could end up believing it himself if he tried hard enough. It would be safer for everyone if every fiber of his body didn’t long for Blake, if he didn’t want to abandon rehearsal to drag Blake back to his flat so that he could show him the sort of pleasure two men could really feel with each other. He was hungry for the unfettered sounds Blake had made the night before, and he wanted more of them. They were the best music Blake could possibly make.
“Let’s start from the beginning of Reinhold and Hilda’s scene,” he said, taking charge with a confidence he hadn’t felt since rehearsals started. “Right before Greta interrupts them.”
That night, he took pen to paper with more enthusiasm than he ever had in his life.
“Dearest B. You cannot imagine the joy that filled me when I read your letter earlier. Feeling passion is one thing, but knowing that passion is returned, however exciting and unnerving it might be, is pure bliss. And pure bliss is what I want to make you feel in every way.
“I want to kiss you until you sigh my name aloud, until you can’t think of anything but my mouth on you. I want to explore every inch of your body, drive you mad with arousal like you’ve never experienced before. I want to teach you things that you’ve only ever dreamed of, like the pleasure there is to be had in having your earlobes nibbled or your nipples licked. I want to leave marks on the tender flesh of your