Just a Little Heartache (The Brotherhood #5) - Merry Farmer Page 0,70

arm around Niall’s waist, tugging their bodies flush against each other, and kissed him again, thrusting his tongue into Niall’s mouth. He tasted of whiskey and passion and everything Blake had only dreamed about for years. It was so good that he groaned with abandon into Niall’s mouth, pressing his growing erection against Niall’s hip.

Niall made a helpless sound as tension coursed through his body. He swayed away slightly, but as soon as their mouths parted and he gasped for breath, a bereft look flashed to his eyes. He grabbed the sides of Blake’s face and slammed into him, kissing Blake so hard that he stumbled backward.

Niall moved with him, devouring his mouth with desperate pants. “We. Can. Not. Do. This,” he gasped even as Blake tore at his jacket and fumbled to pull Niall’s shirt out of the waist of his trousers.

Blake moaned with pleasure as he stroked his hands along Niall’s bare sides, feeling his flesh for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. “I want you,” he sighed, trying to feel all of Niall at once. “I never stopped wanting you, not for a moment. I’ve dreamed of you every night. I’ve ached for you. I—”

His words were cut short as they slammed into one of the sofas in the room and nearly tumbled across it. The shock was enough to knock them apart for a moment, and as it turned out, that was exactly the right moment.

“Your grace.” Dobson cleared his throat in the parlor’s doorway.

Blake swore under his breath, turning to face Dobson. He couldn’t catch his breath and had to hide his mouth with the back of his hand, knowing how swollen and red his lips probably were from Niall’s punishing kisses. Whether or not Dobson had ever suspected things about him, there was no doubt at all that the man knew now. Judging by the way he stood, he’d seen the way he and Niall had gone at each other.

“What is it, Dobson?” Blake stood straight and forced himself to face Dobson like a man. He tugged at the hem of his jacket in the hopes that it would hide the bulge in his trousers.

Dobson cleared his throat again, not looking directly at Blake as he said, “A Miss Yates is here to speak with you and Mr. Cristofori.” Dobson spared a millisecond’s glance for Niall—who had walked to the corner and was busy stuffing his shirt back into his trousers, back to Blake—before assuming his carefully unfocused look again. “Should I send her away, your grace?”

Blake was about to answer that yes, he most certainly should, when Niall pivoted to say, “She had something to say about Annamarie’s lover, I think,” with a startled look, as though he’d only just remembered it. Then again, he’d had plenty to distract him just moments before.

Dobson checked with Blake, who nodded. “Send her in.”

As soon as Dobson moved out of the doorway, Blake twisted and nearly leapt across the room toward Niall. “This isn’t over,” he whispered, veering to the side to pour himself a quick drink. “This has barely just begun.”

Niall didn’t answer him. His face was bright red and his blue eyes glowed with ardor and anxiety. He, too, hastily poured another glass of whiskey and downed half of it as Dobson showed Miss Yates into the room.

“Miss Yates, your grace,” Dobson announced her.

Blake summoned every bit of acting ability he possessed to smile and greet Miss Yates, pretending that nothing at all was out of the ordinary and he hadn’t been about to throw the only man he’d ever loved, the man he still loved with every fiber of his body, over the back of the sofa so he could have his sinful way with him. “Miss Yates, this is a surprise.”

“I’m so sorry to bother you at such a late hour, your grace,” Miss Yates said, hesitating in the doorway, as though she knew she shouldn’t be there.

“Not at all,” Blake smiled like the perfect host, gesturing for her to come deeper into the room. “Mr. Cristofori and I were just having a drink and reliving old times.”

Niall sent him a look as though he’d lost his mind and had dragged him along for the ride.

“What can we do for you this evening?” Blake asked, tempted to offer the woman a drink, though that would have been wildly inappropriate.

“I won’t take up much of your time, your grace,” Miss Yates said. “It’s just that I was seated next to