Men of London 02 - Sight and Sinners by Susan Mac Nicol Read Free Book Online

slap and tickle then with someone he doesn’t really like. Interesting.
    Taylor filed it away for future use. He shifted on his feet, thrusting his hands into his pockets and drawing attention to the front of his groin as the material tightened. Draven’s eyes flicked down and his face grew still. His tongue came out and he licked his lips, and the sight of that pink muscle and the wetness of Draven’s bottom lip turned Taylor’s insides to mush as his cock began its inexorable rise upward.
    Damn, that whole hands-in-pockets thing has bloody backfired on me.
    He took his hands out of his pockets as nonchalantly as possible and pulled his jacket over as far as he could to hide the rise of the Titanic under his boxers. Draven raised one very sexy eyebrow and smirked. Taylor wanted to slap it off his face. There was something about this man that made him want to get violent.
    “So…” Draven drawled. “How does it work?”
    Taylor was taken aback. “How does what work?” At first he thought Draven was talking about his cock but no. That couldn’t be it.
    “The whole ‘I see dead people’ thing. How does that work for you?”
    Taylor tried to count to five to counter the fury welling up inside him. “I told you I don’t see, talk or communicate with dead people.” He said between gritted teeth. “I simply feel energies and see places in my mind where they might have been. And it’s not just dead people I feel. It’s the emotions of people close to me and who I have a connection with.” He huffed. “So you needn’t worry, because you’ll never be one of them.”
    Draven chuckled sardonically. “Oh I think we have a connection all right.” He motioned to Taylor’s crotch. “Just not in the same way.”
    Taylor was dumbfounded. “Are you hitting on me at a bloody funeral?” he snarled. “You don’t find that just a little bit sick?”
    Draven shook his head. “Drew’s gone,” he said quietly and now Taylor could clearly see sadness in his eyes. “I knew him well enough to know that while he didn’t want to live, he’d have no problem with the ones who did carrying on. He had a favourite quote: ‘The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.’ It’s by Marcus Cicero. He’d expect us to remember who he was and the good times, not the one at the end who chose to take his own life.” His eyes grew far away. “Some of us don’t have that choice; we’re still in limbo.”
    Taylor had the distinct feeling Draven was talking about something or someone else other than Drew. He also felt like a fraud. He hadn’t really known Drew to the extent that he could take a favourite quote of his and tell someone about it. Draven had been closer to him than he’d ever been.
    Suddenly the secluded copse of trees where Taylor had chosen to come for an illicit cigarette closed in on him. He needed to get away, away from the other man’s knowing eyes and the breathless attraction he felt for a man who didn’t even like him and considered him with contempt.
    “I need to leave,” he blurted and turned to go back to the car park, back to his car so he could get home and feel cleaner, to hide away and forget he’d ever come here today.
    “You were one of his regulars, weren’t you?” Draven’s quiet voice made him stop. He closed his eyes in mortification but didn’t turn around because he didn’t want this man to see the shame on his face.
    Draven kept speaking, his voice low. “I knew about Drew’s proclivities and you’re just his type.” He stopped and Taylor stood stock still, not wanting to turn and see more contempt on Draven’s face. “He was a noble man but in the end, he chose to leave this way instead of facing up to whatever it was made him do it.” There was a short silence and Taylor took a step forward to leave. Draven’s quiet voice stopped him.
    “I think he was being blackmailed about it. Just a feeling I have.”
    At those shocking words, Taylor did turn around