A Free Choice (Ganymede Quartet Book 4.5) by Darrah Glass Read Free Book Online Page A

him questions about his role in planning the party, the details of which were all quite settled and well-known to Miss Pearl, so he was suspicious of her questions.
    Lowering her voice and putting her hand on his sleeve, Miss Pearl said, “Well, Martin! You and Young Sir seem to be getting along very nicely today. It’s quite refreshing.”
    Martin liked Miss Pearl a great deal, but he wasn’t going to discuss Henry’s personal business with her if he could avoid it. “It’s kind of you to notice, Miss Pearl. Mr. Blackwell and I have had a pleasant day,” he allowed, feeling his face grow warm as he thought of all he was omitting.
    Miss Pearl seemed perfectly aware he was obfuscating. “Well, it’s simply marvelous to see your smiling faces,” she said, giving him another pat. “You’re both lovely boys, and you bring Mrs. Blackwell so much joy.”
    “Thank you. That’s nice to hear.” He did think this was probably true. It went without saying that Mrs. Blackwell loved Henry, but she had also doted on Martin throughout all the weeks of party planning, eliciting his opinions and complimenting his taste and, of course, calling him ‘darling.’ Unlike Henry, Martin had no reason to mistrust her, nor did he retreat into baffled sullenness when she tried to charm him. Martin understood Henry’s reticence and suspicion, but he was willing to give Mrs. Blackwell the benefit of the doubt. He felt she was trying hard to be a part of her children’s lives, as much as her health permitted.
    When Henry was done talking with his mother, Martin followed him upstairs and into his bedroom, where they locked the door and stood looking at one another a long moment.
    “Be close to me,” Henry suggested, leading him to the bed. They took off their boots and shrugged their jackets to the floor and then stretched out side by side on top of the coverlet.
    Henry took Martin’s hand. “I’ve missed this,” he said. He rolled to push his nose against Martin’s neck. “Smelling your smells.” He slipped his hand inside the open neck of Martin’s shirt and traced his collarbone. “Feeling your warmth.” He pulled Martin to him, and they entwined themselves, shedding their waistcoats in the process, along with Henry’s necktie and collar.
    “It doesn’t always have to turn into sex,” Henry murmured, his breath damp against Martin’s throat. “I just like touching you. I missed it so much.”
    “Touch me as much as you want,” Martin suggested as Henry shifted closer. They fit together so well, halves of a whole. He’d missed Henry’s smells, too, and his sleek, feverish body. He’d missed Henry’s touch, his reverence and strength. He’d missed it all so much, and he’d refused to allow himself to think it was lost to him forever, because he’d been sure that without it he wouldn’t be able to go on.
    But it was over now, and they were together, loving and close, having a nap.
    Martin was nearly asleep when he became aware of tiny movements of Henry’s shoulders, his body hunching as he breathed in lurching gasps. Henry’s hands tightened on Martin’s back and he buried his face against Martin’s shoulder.
    “I’m sorry,” he said, voice muffled. “I shouldn’t—” He didn’t finish saying what he ought not to do, but clung more desperately.
    “Henry?” Martin rubbed his back soothingly. “Are you crying?”
    “Oh…” Henry groaned, almost angry, not wanting to admit it. “I just feel so terrible for everything I put you through.” He sniffed wetly and wiped at his face with the back of his hand.
    Martin kissed his cheek. He didn’t mind, he supposed, that Henry felt badly about how he’d treated him, but he didn’t need Henry to be so full of self-recrimination and angst, not to the point of tears. Frankly, he didn’t wish to be put in the position of having to repeatedly comfort Henry for his upset over his own horrible behavior.
    “You’ll be good to me from now on,” he