By the Book Page 9

  “Oh sorry. Yeah. Milk and one spoon, thanks.”

  “Instant all right?”

  “Sure. I’m no coffee snob.”

  The gray ink looked silver in this light, the yellow, gold. Maybe it wasn’t the light that made the colors appear somehow metallic. It could have been the fact they colored Daniel’s skin.

  He stood at the kitchen counter, back muscles rippling every so often as he reached for a couple of mugs, unscrewed the coffee jar. This was the perfect opportunity to study him more or less still.

  The last time I’d seen his wings, they’d glistened with sweat, Georgia clawing at him as he fucked her into—

  “You say something?” Daniel asked.

  “Uh no. Just clearing my throat. So…what made you get it done? You never did say.”

  “We were occupied…” He shrugged. His wings rippled or, as I fancied, fluttered, the feathers inviting my touch. “Just felt like it.”

  “You got that much work done on a whim?”

  He turned around, and for a moment I was disappointed that I no longer had a view of his wings, but the front wasn’t bad either. Leaning against the kitchen countertop waiting for the kettle to boil, he crossed his arms, biceps curving rather than bulging. “Okay, it wasn’t so much a whim as a…” He grinned, looking perfectly devilish. “An ex of mine used to make a crack about the way I looked.”

  “The way you looked? Why, what’s wrong with it?”

  “My hair. Because it’s dark, and I wear it tufted up in places. Bed head, I call it. Or just-been-fucked hair.” He laughed, and I joined in halfheartedly. Not because I didn’t think it suited him, but because Daniel Cross saying the F-word in such a context made me picture things… “My hair, the arch of my eyebrows, the fact I wear dark shades, and when I take them off people see my guyliner. There’s that, and the fact I wear black a lot. He said I looked like Lucifer.”

  “He? Oh…right.” My cheeks burned. Why I was surprised, I didn’t know. Daniel didn’t wear his bisexuality like a cloak. It wasn’t something he put on and took off. It was as much a part of him as his need to breathe. “Yeah, I thought when you first came into the…” I cleared my throat. “I mean, I thought you looked…”

  He raised those perfectly arched eyebrows and stared at me intently. “After all we’ve been through together? You can say anything.”

  “The first time you came into the library, I thought you looked like the Angel of Death.”

  He burst out laughing, threw his head back, and I remembered watching those teeth nibble at Georgia’s neck before he sucked her earlobe into his mouth and—“Yeah, it’s not the first time I’ve heard that. So I figured…if I’m a fallen angel”—at this he looked directly at me—“I want my wings back.”

  I pulled my lips into a smirk. Yes, when he looked at me like that, Daniel Cross was the devil, and I’d happily have followed him to hell if he—

  “Coffee, then,” he said, spinning round on his heels when the kettle clicked off.

  “How long did it take?”

  “A few minutes. You’ve been standing there.”

  “Ha bloody ha. I meant the ink, Cross.”

  “Oh, around four or five sessions. Three hours every fortnight. So not that long considering how intricate it is. Hurt like hell while it was a work in progress, but the end result was worth it.”

  “Whoever did it is a bloody talented artist.” The detail of the feathers, layer folded on top of layer, astounded me. Each feather, edged with either blue or silver-gray, looked icy cold; the outer plumage with its hint of yellow-gold appeared backlit by a glow from within, like an infernal halo.

  “The guy who did it, he’s called Ian Black. I wouldn’t let anyone else touch me.” He paused, and those damn shoulders shook again with repressed laughter. “I mean with a tattooist’s needle. Here.” Daniel handed me a coffee mug and leaned against the counter while sipping from his own. “Cost a fortune but it was worth every penny. And I sat down with Ian for a while, told him what I wanted. We came up with the design between us. I had a few ideas of my own; he incorporated some of his own ideas from some of his other work.”

  “You saw it?”

  “He has photos all over the shop. Sign of a good tattooist, that. Not afraid to show you what he’s done before. If you ever think about getting inked…”

  “I’m not sure about that. I don’t know what I’d get done, and if I’ve got to the age of twenty-eight already without… I don’t have any.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Daniel saluted me with his coffee mug, making the gesture look somewhere between conspiratorial and teasing. “I’ve seen you naked, remember?”

  I choked on my coffee but managed not to spill any. “Seems a shame though.”

  “What?” He eyed me over the rim of his coffee mug, and I could well see why his ex had commented on the diabolical arch of his brows. There was no other word for them but devilish. And I never normally noticed these things. But with him I did because something about Daniel Cross demanded I notice him, over and above the fact we’d taken turns fucking the same woman.

  “It’s on your back. You can’t see it.”

  “Unless I pose naked in front of a mirror. Well, shirtless at least.”

  “There is that.”

  Daniel’s eyes clouded over then, and I lost him. “Course, there’s also the fact that…” A slow smile. He shook himself back to life. “Nothing, nothing. Never mind. You wanna go through to the living room? It’s more comfortable in there.”

  There was still a barrier there, a confusion about that very boundary’s location. We’d shared a lover, been naked in each other’s presence, brought our shared lover to orgasm countless times, seen each other come, and yet there was still this tentative unease arcing between us. Somewhere between dancing and fencing.

  “I don’t know if you know anything about the Bible, but…”

  “Only the parts about fallen angels,” he threw over his winged shoulders, leading the way into his living room. A battered settee was pushed against one wall, an armchair nestled in the bay of the window, and a rug covered the carpeted floor in the middle of the room.

  “I was just thinking about Daniel. The prophet, I mean. He was visited by an angel who called him a ‘very desirable man.’”

  A sharp bark of laughter. “Really? And tell me, Reece, was it a good angel or a bad angel who visited Daniel?”

  I caught his eye, and the sheer intensity of his gaze, that switch from hilarity to look at me; now tell me sent shivers up my spine. “I don’t recall. Good, I think.”

  “How sad.” He took a step closer. “The bad ones are always more fun. Don’t you think?”

  Automatically I reared up, my spine rippling. Part of me wanted to go. Part of me wanted to stay.

  “It’s definitely more fun being a fallen angel.” Daniel leaned in closer and…

  …put his now empty mug on the coffee table.

  I exhaled slowly. Relieved. Disappointed.

  “Reece? Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” Not convinced, I tried again. “Sure. Why d’y’ask?”

  “You seem a bit…”

  “Well. You know. Residual…” I drained my coffee mug, wishing the caffeine was something a bit stronger. “Something.” Christ, I need a stiff one.

  The thought nearly choked me, and I turned away while composing myself, placing my mug by Daniel’s on the table.

  “You wanted to talk about this ‘residual something’?”

  “Yeah. Kind of.” I frowned, struggled to find the words. “Georgia.” There, I’d said it. Her name. Brought her presence into the room in a roundabout way.

  “What about her?” He crossed his arms, assertive rather than defensive. A challenge in his body language, and I didn’t know what the challenge was. A dare of sorts. He smirked.

  “She wanted me to get in touch. About what happened before. With us. The three of us, I mean.”

  “Oh?” Daniel’s eyes widened, and enlight
enment spread across his face like a sunrise. “I see. She wants to go again?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Daniel the Dark Angel strikes again. Well, Hutton. I did think once she had a taste of my sweet lovin’, nothing else would be good enough.”

  “Fuck you, Cross.”

  “Anytime, Hutton.”

  At that throwaway remark, my head jerked up and I met his gaze for only a moment and looked away. “Jesus, Daniel.”

  “Just teasing.” Pause. And he leaned a little closer. “Maybe.”

  I exhaled slowly, surprised I even had breath left in my body to surrender. “I don’t know what…why I’m here.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Or why I’m so nervous. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t…” I gestured into the air with one trembling hand and brought it back to the other, wringing both of them. “We haven’t, you know…”

  “Shall I tell you why you’re so jittery?”

  Somehow I managed to meet his gaze again but summoned no further encouragement than that.

  And Daniel the Dark Angel read me like a book.

  “You’re wondering what the hell’s going on between us.”

  “Well.” Nervously I laughed. “That is why I’m here. To sort out…I mean, talk about—”

  “No, not the three of us. I mean the two of us. You and me. Reece Hutton and Daniel Cross.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “I saw your hand shake just now.” Daniel reached out and covered both my hands, still wrapped around each other, with one of his own. And his touch did nothing to still my jangling nerves.

  “Given what we’re discussing, that’s no surprise.”

  “You’ve had threesomes before, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Of both flavors?”

  “Yes. You know that.”

  “So you can’t tell me you’re jittery because you’ve been sent here to talk about setting up another ménage.”

  There was nothing more to be said. He had me there.

  “Shall I tell you why you’re so jittery?” Daniel bit his lip, paused as if wondering whether or not he should go on. Then he jumped. “You’re wondering if I’m going to kiss you.”

  “You what?”

  “That wasn’t a denial.” He took another step closer. “Well? Am I right or wrong?”

  “Just because I…” I couldn’t handle the mocking in his eyes. He knew more than I was willing to acknowledge. “This isn’t… I mean I can’t…”

  “Can’t you?” Daniel’s brows quirked. “What can’t you?” he asked with a taunting lift of his chin.

  Mute and rooted to the spot, I silently bade him continue. Silently bade him stop. Please stop. Oh, there were a thousand and one reasons why this was a bad idea, and I couldn’t remember any of them.

  Daniel moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, then reached up to my neck.

  I shook my head without shaking it, moved it slowly from side to side, fighting to calm the maelstrom of thoughts and guilt and what-ifs in my mind. But each time I turned my head, even one degree, I moved under Daniel’s hand and the halfhearted attempt to say no, I can’t became a reminder of how much I wanted to say yes.

  If Daniel’s hand hadn’t been on me, if he’d been standing only a foot farther back, if there had been more air between us, maybe I would have been able to breathe, but the slow back and forth of his thumb on my jaw hypnotized me into silent compliance.

  “You know something,” he murmured, inching closer, ever closer until even daylight wouldn’t get between us. “I’ve been wondering what it would be like to kiss you for a while.”

  Oh God, this isn’t why I came here, I—

  “And you’ve been thinking of the same thing.”

  Every time you speak, I forget myself.

  “We should do something about it.” Daniel dipped his head, drew back, furrowed his brow, and I thought, surely he can’t be nervous; he’s Daniel Cross, but he wanted to make sure I was sure. Again he inclined his head, his thumb’s rhythmic back and forth slowing still further, and I couldn’t stop myself moistening my lips, whether in readiness for his kiss or simply because being close to Daniel made me nervous.

  His hand on my waist made me jump, and the short path to its resting place on the curve of my hip blazed a trail of electricity. When I gasped, Daniel closed the distance between us by pulling me in closer, and in an instant I thought, no, he’ll be able to tell just how—

  And despite the fact that we both wore jeans, he couldn’t hide how hard he was.

  “I know you want this,” he whispered, so close his breath warmed my skin. “Just let me…”

  I’ve never kissed a—Oh God. My resistance, such as it was, melted away when his bottom lip dragged over mine. The gentleness of the kiss was incongruous with his stubble. Though soft rather than prickly, it was a constant reminder that I was kissing—or being kissed by—a man. But I didn’t care because that man was Daniel.

  He rested his forehead against mine, breathing deeply but slowly, and his mouth curved into a smile. Still cradling my neck with one hand, his fingers flinched, making my skin tingle. “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  Nervous laughter burst out of me, and I shook my head slowly. “No. Definitely not.”

  The slow slide of his cradling hand down my torso parted my lips against his. Both of his hands on both of my hips, and when his grip tightened, he pushed himself against me so forcefully I stumbled back. He did it again, and I realized it was deliberate. Seconds later my back hit the wall, forcing every last breath out of my lungs.

  “There,” he said with a slow grin, made even more seductive by the playful arch of his brows, his tousled hair, the twinkle in his eyes. “Now you can’t get away.”

  “Don’t you have work to do?”

  “It can wait. At least until I’ve kissed you properly.” When his lips brushed over mine, nudging them, breathing them apart, there was nothing else in the world I wanted more than Daniel Cross’s hands on my hips, his hard cock pressing against me, the tip of his tongue teasing at the corner of my mouth. He stopped to take a breath. “Reece…”

  I thought he was about to touch his forehead to mine again, but no, he nuzzled in to my neck, and every movement brushing that damn stubble against my skin reminded me whom I was touching. Whom I’d kissed.

  “Fuck,” I blurted out.

  “What? Is something wrong?”

  “No, just the…that. My neck.”

  “Ah, you like it?” His lips curved into a smile, and he murmured against my mouth, “Because I like kissing you.”

  “Don’t.” But my voice was weak, little more than a whisper. I moaned into his kiss, surrendering to whatever it was I felt. His tongue against mine was alien and yet right. I kept saying to myself, over and over again, this is a man, you’re kissing a man, Jesus, Reece; you’re kissing a man, but the stubble against both my palms, his hard cock pressing against me replaced every other thought with one simple fact:

  This is Daniel.

  I broke off this kiss, but Daniel was breathless and panting, clearly as desperate for oxygen as I was.

  “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he said.

  “Oh?” Please don’t do it again, Daniel. Please don’t kiss me.

  He rolled his eyes as if casting his mind back, lost in the memory of whenever. “Let’s see…first saw you in the library when I brought that pile of books back, asked about the Wi-Fi, so…”

  “Yeah?”

  “About half a second after that,” he said with a grin. “Shall I tell you what I love about your mouth?”

  “No.” I gulped. Closed my eyes for a few seconds. Little more than an extended blink.

  “This.” He traced the line of my top lip with one finger, and I didn’t dare even breathe in case he lifted his hand away. “I’ve never met a man with a Cupid’s bow like that. It’s perfect.” He paused, fingertip now hovering as close to my mouth as he could
get it without making contact. His hand went to my neck again, fingertips moving over the curve behind my ear.

  “Daniel, don’t.”

  He pulled his hand away, stepped back, and though it was what my mouth said I wanted, I still felt that loss, that absence of Daniel.

  “You don’t want me to kiss you?”

  “I have a girlfriend.”

  “That wasn’t what I asked.”

  “I can’t. This isn’t why I came.”

  “You’ve both fucked other people.”

  “Yes, but not like…”

  Daniel cocked his head, rested one hand on his hip. “Not like this?”

  “No. Not like this.”

  “It was only a kiss. I don’t think Georgia would mind.”

  “Maybe not. Probably not.” Shaking my head, I stepped away from the wall, paced, rubbed my temples, tried to think straight. “This isn’t why I came. I’ve never kissed a man before.”

  “Well for your first time, that wasn’t bad, and let’s face it, if the first man you kiss is Daniel Cross, you struck gold there.”

  “Christ, you’re so arrogant.” But I was half laughing.

  “And you’re so hard.”

  I stopped, looked up, glared at him.

  “What, you think I didn’t notice?” Daniel shrugged. “Reece, I know a hard-on when it’s pressed against me, and you sure weren’t thinking about any woman when you had your tongue down my throat.”

  “Jesus. How can you…?”

  “Look.” He stepped closer, and though I wanted to leave—and didn’t—I remained rooted to the spot. “Can I just say something? Be completely honest with you?”

  Mute, I nodded. Once.

  “I want you.” Daniel shrugged. “That’s it. I just…want you. Georgia wants another threesome, well fine. But to be naked in the same bed as you and not touch you?” He gave a brief half laugh. “Have you ever been this close”—Daniel pinched his forefinger and thumb together—“to someone you wanted, knowing they were somehow off-limits?” He shook his head. “I couldn’t do it. Not again. The first time? Well, fine. I didn’t know how difficult it would be. But I couldn’t do it again unless…unless…”

  I knew what he meant. I knew exactly what he meant. “I’m not sure Georgia would go for that.” Maybe she would. I didn’t know.