Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
The stiff tension in Brand’s body eased; the tightness of his grasp on the steering wheel relaxed so obviously there came a faint squeak of decompressing leather.
“Good,” he said, and for all that it was quiet…there was something sincere, heartfelt, in that rumbling undertone, that left Ash warm. “I am glad he did not hurt you. Though I do not like that you went to him.”
“…we didn’t do anything.”
“I still do not like it.”
Ash hunched, cheeks burning. “God, Forsythe, it’s not like I’m going to fuck up Dad’s reputation even more.”
The silence drew Ash’s gaze to the mirror again, and that penetrating green gaze.
“That is not why,” Brand said softly.
Ash’s heart shivered into soft, rapid beats. He didn’t know what to say, when Brand was looking at him that way—and he lowered his eyes, curling his fingers in that coat that smelled so much like Brand, that made him feel like he was wrapped up inside the man, sheltered and safe.
“I think a few reporters caught me,” he deflected.
“It’s all right,” Brand said. “I will take care of it.”
Ash lingered, meeting Brand’s gaze in the mirror, his chest tight, his stomach filled with strange slow flutters. “You take care of everything, don’t you?”
“Including you,” Brand replied.
Ash only ducked his head, heat flushing through him with a slow and quiet warmth, and said nothing at all.
The night passed by in silence, on the drive back to the house. The mansion was dark, as they pulled in through the gate and Brand parked the car. Ash tried to open the back door and step out by himself—but he misjudged the distance and caught his foot wrong, turning underneath him and spilling him toward the cobbles.
And Brand was there—catching him, sweeping him up, lifting him into strong arms and off his feet. His pulse leaped in sharp staccato beats as Brand captured him against his chest, carrying him as if he weighed nothing, cradling him against a living furnace of strength and warmth…all while still wrapped in Brand’s jacket. Ash stared up at him, curling his fingers in the front of Brand’s waistcoat. Brand looked down at him inscrutably—then turned to carry him toward the house.
Ash didn’t know what to do. But he didn’t want to think about that right now, not when right now everything wrong inside him felt right and Brand felt safe. So Ash only laid his head to Brand’s shoulder, closing his eyes and letting himself feel sheltered in that strong, protective embrace.
The house was quiet as a whisper, as Brand eased them inside—somehow managing to unlock the door, open it, and close it behind them without ever jostling Ash. Through the hallways, toward their adjoining rooms, and Ash bit his lip as Brand shifted him to cradle him closer; tentatively, Ash slipped one arm up around Brand’s neck.
“I’m really confused right now,” he whispered.
Brand tilted his head just enough to look down at him. “Why are you confused?”
“Everything’s all wrong inside me all the time, but not right now,” Ash admitted. “Not with you. You feel good. You feel safe.”
A faint, warm smile curled Brand’s lips. “That is all I ever strive to be for you, young Master.”
Brand elbowed the door to Ash’s room open and carried him inside the master suite. Ash still couldn’t think of it as his, even with his clothing in the drawers and his books on the shelves, his personal effects tossed around. And the bed felt too large for him alone, when Brand bent over it to lay him down against the duvet with such care, shifting his grip to cradle Ash’s head in one large hand as he laid him against the pillow.
In the darkness of the room, moonlight faint and pale through the thin linen curtains, Brand was gold, silver, and shadow—the only color that spark of green behind his glasses. His darkened gaze held Ash’s, even as he sank down the length of Ash’s body to fall to his knees next to the bed. One at a time, with almost ritual solemnity, he slipped first one of Ash’s shoes off, then the other, followed by his socks—before he rose once more, bracing one knee against the mattress. His graceful bulk bowed over Ash as gloved fingers gently brushed both Brand’s coat and Ash’s aside, before beginning to flick the buttons of Ash’s waistcoat open.
Ash bit his trembling lip. He’d tumbled into bed with a dozen men, but no drunken sex had ever felt as intimate, as vulnerable, as lying here while his valet undressed him. He felt naked even before his waistcoat was fully opened, those strong, capable hands smoothing it to either side and then slipping up to finger his tie. Ash’s breaths caught, his pulse throbbing loud. His mouth felt hot, remembering the taste of a kiss that had consumed him, that had taken all control away from him to leave him sweetly helpless, surrendering.