The Dickens with Love by Josh Lanyon

Author:Josh Lanyon [Lanyon, Josh]
Language: nld
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: erotic MM, Romance MM
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

I followed Sedgwick’s rental car down Sunset, my eyes on the red taillights ahead of me flying like

embers through the night. We turned left on Stone Canyon Road and I could see the trees and the clock

tower ahead, like a fairytale kingdom in an enchanted forest.

We parked and handed our keys over to the valets. We didn’t talk as we crossed the little bridge and

walked through the starlight. The woods smelled damp and mysterious. I wondered if Sedgwick was having second thoughts. I was—though not enough of them to change my mind.

We reached the private alcove of his hotel room entrance, and he let us inside the room. To my

surprise he turned on the light, which seemed very prosaic.

He said, “I won’t be able to get into the hotel safe until tomorrow morning. Will that be all right?”

His gaze was curious as the heat rushed into my face and then drained out again.

“Of course.”

“All right?” he asked quite gently.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked belligerently.

His dark eyebrows rose. “I don’t know. You seem…tense. You’re quite pale.”

“It’s been a long day.”

“I suppose so.”

“Are we going to spend the whole night talking?”

“I hope not.” He was smiling. The sweetness of that grin—those dimples—took my breath away. “Do

you mind if I order us nosh from room service? I didn’t have time for dinner.”

Because he’d been too busy tracking me down across the mean streets of Los Angeles.

I stopped unbuttoning my shirt. “Of course not.”

He went to the phone, asking over his shoulder, “What would you like?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” I sat on the sage green sofa. I felt off-stride. It had been easier the last time; the darkness and the frantic rush we’d been in had made it so.

“A nightcap?”

Now that I thought about it, a nightcap sounded like a good idea. If I was any more tightly wound,

he’d need a fishing reel to get any satisfaction out of me.

“A brandy, thank you.”

Josh Lanyon

He came over to join me on the couch, sitting next to me. That was a first and I felt inexplicably self-conscious. We’d lain together in the same bed, but sitting next to each other on the sofa fully clothed seemed more intimate. Odd.

He rested a casual arm along the back of the sofa. The brush of his arm against my shoulders unsettled me as did the light press of his muscular thigh against my own.

His lifted his arm and his fingertips lightly tickled the back of my neck. I shivered. He chuckled.

“How old are you?”

“Why?”

“Is it a secret?” He offered, “I’m forty-two.”

“You look older.”

Sedgwick chuckled. “You have a sharp tongue when you’re agitated. I’m not imagining it. What’s

wrong?”

“Nothing.” I said irritably, “I’m thirty-five.”

“Swithin is thirty-five. My brother,” he said in answer to my look of mystification. “He’s the baby of the family.”

This brought up a point I was actually curious about. “If your father’s a vicar, what does your family make of you being gay?”

“Oh.” He did a kind of droll eye roll. “They’re attempting to come to terms with it.

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