An Improper Holiday by K.A. Mitchell Read Free Book Online Page B

rigid flesh, and the sound of Nicky’s groans trapped between them as they strained together.

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    31
    K.A. Mitchell
    A plea rose in Ian’s throat, though what more he would demand he could not say. Much as he wanted
    to ride the sharp, sweet edge of satisfaction forever, he needed the completion that would burn away what remained of the distance between them, bind them with slick seed.
    “Now, Nicky.” Ian’s palm slid on sweat as he pressed lower, hand wide across Nicky’s arse to draw
    him even closer. “Come to it.”
    Nicky gasped, a short choked sound, and spilled hot and slippery across their bellies. The first splash of warmth from inside Nicky’s body on Ian’s prick took him over, dropping him into long spasms of
    blissful relief.
    Uncaring of the solid bulk sinking down on him, Ian would have surrendered consciousness in favor
    of heedless sleep, but Nicky lifted himself away, forcing Ian’s attention to the clammy state of his belly.
    He sat up, catching Nicky under the chin with his stump.
    “Ow. What the hell?”
    “My breeches. The linens.”
    Nicky rubbed his chin. “Bugger your breeches.”
    Ian couldn’t say who broke first. The laughter came almost immediately, great gulps of it, until they
    were breathless and their faces wet with tears. He collapsed on his back. Nicky swiped his thumb across Ian’s cheek. “I did miss you. And all this.”
    Ian knew what he meant. No one had ever known him better. Since they had first met Nicky had been
    the brighter half of Ian’s heart, sharing the joy that followed in Nicky’s wake. But that had never been just Ian’s; Nicky shared his light with everyone.
    Those thoughts linked darkly, one to the other until the twinned pleasures of laughter and sexual
    satisfaction were buried under a cold weight beneath Ian’s ribs. Perhaps knowing would be worse, but he could no longer stand the uncertainty, could not face Lewes until Ian learned the truth to outface the man’s lies.
    “You swore you would tell me of the last five years.”
    Nicky’s laughter disappeared as swiftly as the sun behind leaden clouds. “You cannot allow us even a
    moment to savor our reunion? You are without a doubt misery’s most ardent suitor, Ian Stanton.”
    Ian turned his head from the hard look in Nicky’s eyes, making busy with kicking away breeches,
    reaching down to wipe at the cloying seed with soiled smallclothes. What if there was truth to Nicky’s accusations? Ian never asked for unhappiness, but avoiding it served no good purpose.
    “And if I am, what does that make you?”
    “An utter fool.” With a long sigh, Nicky retrieved the bolster and propped himself upon it, apparently unconcerned with his nudity.
    Ian longed for a nightshirt. His stump was not the only disfiguring souvenir he had brought home
    from the Peninsula. An ill-knitted scar the size of a fist blossomed over his ribs to mark where the shrapnel 32
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    An Improper Holiday
    that had taken his hand had also sought his heart. After envisioning himself trying to wrestle the shirt over his head while Nicky laughed from the bed, Ian contented himself with hunching over a pillow placed on his lap.
    “What is it you feel you must know?” Nicky’s voice was still heavy from his sigh.
    “Lewes.” The name rushed from Ian’s lips. “That filthy bastard told me—”
    “That filthy bastard is a good friend.”
    “What sort of friend could such a man possibly be?”
    “I’ll tell you if you stop shrieking like a fishwife.”
    Outrage drove Ian’s fist into the pillow. “Fishwife?”
    “An aggrieved peacock then.” It wasn’t quite up to Nicky’s usual smile.
    “Lewes,” Ian said again. He would not let Nicky bait him to a false trail, though Ian suspected he
    already knew the answer.
    “You truly wish to know?”
    “No. But I must.”
    “What a quiz you are. Very well.” Nicky settled farther back against the bolster. “Julian had a