still had that same upright—almost snobbish—posture that had always made me wonder if he were a secret dancer or trapeze artist. Now I knew that the so-called and fabled “aristocratic bearing” had a source, with a noble title and everything!
He began to play some morose tune I’d never heard—slow and with lots of flat notes—in what sounded like a minor key. I didn’t know a ton about music but I knew enough to know that this was the equivalent of some forlorn drunken melody. I moved to stand behind him and he flicked an unreadable glance up at me as he continued.
I couldn’t help it. I felt bad for him. Family could be so shitty. Complete with all the expectations heaped upon you just because of whom you were born to and whose DNA you shared. I knew enough of that, even if my family didn’t have millions on top of their billions on top of their aristocratic titles. Family could pretty much suck at all echelons of society. No one knew that more than I.
I crooked a half smile of encouragement and put a hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “You okay? Holy crap, you’re tense.” Especially for being drunk… His body felt like a thick rope twisted around rocks and tied into unyielding knots.
He did not react aversely to my touch, nor did he reply. He just continued to play his slow, sad, obscure tune.
“You—I could give you a back rub. My roommate—well my former—well, you know. Heath likes back rubs and apparently rates mine with two thumbs-up. It’s a perk of having me in the house… if you want.”
His fingers glided across the keys and he still didn’t speak—just sent me another enigmatic look from those fathomless dark eyes and shrugged one of his shoulders. I frowned but took the gesture as tacit permission.
I moved behind him. Then I laced my fingers together, cracked my knuckles, rolling my shoulders and my neck like a pro wrestler about to enter the ring. Gently, I placed my hands at the base of his neck.
The sad melody continued uninterrupted, but he finally spoke in a quiet, hoarse voice. “Try not to strangle me.”
“Tempting, but no.” My hands worked down his extremely tight neck to where it joined his shoulders. I massaged small circles through the soft, slippery material of his shirt.
He hit his first missed note when my thumbs smoothed their way up the back of his neck, working parallel to his spinal column. His skin was flushed, presumably from intoxication. He missed his second note the moment the tips of my fingers touched the base of his hairline. That missed note came with a sharp intake of breath.
And as I worked my way back down his neck, it was clear that he was only growing more tense instead of less. Suddenly he missed a bunch of notes in a quick jumble, then stopped playing altogether. Perhaps it was when my fingers slipped around under his jaw while massaging light circles under his earlobes with my thumbs. His skin felt hot and rough with whisker growth though he’d shaved before we’d left for the “family dinner”—or whatever proper label could be attributed to that spectacle.
Lucas now sat completely motionless, fingers splayed across the keys without playing. I took a breath and let it go, allowing my hands to fall away. “I’m sorry. Did you not like it?” My hands rested lightly on his shoulders, but before I could make any other move, he reached up with his right hand and snagged my wrist within his grasp. The grip was firm, tight… possessive.
“I liked it. I liked it too much,” he muttered in a thick, low voice.
Then he stood and turned to face me. Our gazes caught and my breath froze in my chest. He was visibly aroused. Though I vowed to keep my eyes fixed on his face, it was noticeable. I didn’t even have to glance down there to reaffirm my assessment. His dark eyes were scorching me to cinders where I stood, boring deep inside of me. I held that dark gaze with my own and swallowed thickly, hoping he’d reach for me. Hoping he’d initiate something.
“Do you… do you want to talk some more about what’s bothering you?” My voice was a husky whisper.
I knew goddamn well that he didn’t want to talk, but what else was I going to say? Please pull off my clothes and fuck me at last? Yeah, I might have wanted to say that.