House of Mirrors by Bonnie Dee and Summer Devon Read Free Book Online

before joining the show.
    “It’ll take a bit of time, boss. You might as well tell everyone to take a break.”
    Rafe didn’t have to do that either, although he sent Fisher to spread the word. Folks were always ready for a break from traveling, and some of them were already sprawling in the grass by the side of the road, having a leisurely smoke or a snack.
    There was nothing for him to do here. Dimitri had it under control. Rafe went to check on Talbot, hoping no one noticed his preoccupation with the new hire. But he had little doubt that eyes were on him. They always were.
    He climbed into the wagon and shut the door behind him.
    Jonah sat up, rubbing his hand over his eyes. His fine hair was sleep rumpled and sticking out in all directions. The sight caught at Rafe’s heart and sewed little stitches through it.
    “We’re stopped? Is it lunchtime already?”
    “Cracked axle. We’ll be on our way again in about fifteen minutes.” God help him for immediately thinking what they could do in fifteen minutes.
    Jonah rose to his feet a bit stiffly, grasping onto the counter for support.
    “You didn’t have to lie on that pallet. You could’ve slept in my bed.” Did that offer sound as heavy with meaning to the other man as it did to him?
    Jonah looked toward the unmade bed and then at Rafe. Their gazes met and held, locked together. There was no use pretending desire didn’t crackle between them. The windows were closed, blocking out noise and the heat but also any fresh breeze. Inside, they were sealed into a warm stillness. Hushed, breathless, intimate, the moment spun out in a fine filament between them.
    “Well,” Rafe said.
    Jonah licked his lips and shifted from foot to foot.
    Rafe walked forward, crossing the space between them. He stopped right in front of Jonah, standing too close and waiting for him to back away if he wished to stop this.
    He didn’t. Instead Jonah swayed forward, closer. They stood chest to chest, as if they were two drunks in a bar, deciding whether or not they were going to brawl.
    Rafe lifted his hand and touched the side of the younger man’s face, feeling the slight roughness of the unshaved cheek, the warmth of skin beneath his fingertips. His heart raced, the thrill of this simple act as powerful as the jolt of a hammer coming down on the “test your strength” machine. And they hadn’t even done anything illicit yet. Simply the possibility of kissing, touching, fondling…probing, had his head awhirl.
    Jonah’s eyes drifted partway closed. He tilted his head, pushing his cheek against Rafe’s palm. His lips were parted, moist, begging for a kiss.
    Rafe didn’t even need to ask, but he did anyway. “Are you sure?”
    “Yes,” came the breathless reply.
    That was all he needed. Rafe bent and took hold of that luscious mouth, then pressed his lips hard against yielding softness. He was surprised at the fervor with which Jonah returned his kiss. Either the young man had been starved for this, waiting for such an experience his entire life, or he’d had more experience than Rafe would’ve expected. Either way, Jonah was ravenous, ignoring any pain in his damaged lip and kissing Rafe with hungry passion.
    Their tongues swept out and met in the middle, circling, plunging, fighting for supremacy—again taking Rafe by surprise. This diffident, polite lad was quite confident when it came to demanding what he wanted. Without hesitation, Jonah slid his arms around Rafe and pressed his hands against his back, pulling him closer.
    Through the flannel of his trousers, he felt Jonah’s erection against his, sending waves of aching need rolling through him. Rafe groaned and wrapped his arms around Jonah, holding him tight. Their mouths continued to feed off each other, licking, tasting, gently stroking, and then crashing together fervently once more. And their bodies struggled together too, as if trying to find a way to become one, despite all the pesky clothes that kept them