Romancing the Rough Diamond

by Clare London

  Matt’s jokes dried up, because he knew he felt the same. Had been feeling it for a while. He just wasn’t sure how to express it. But it didn’t seem as if Joel expected a reply, as he snuggled more closely against Matt.

  “Think I’m going to take a nap,” Matt said. “But be sure to wake me if you… you know.”

  “If I what?” Joel’s breath tickled against Matt’s chin.

  “If you need me,” Matt said softly, tenderly. He buried his face into Joel’s hair, afraid his face would show his raw emotions. And he slid into sleep.

  IN the small hours of the morning, Matt woke. For a brief moment, he wondered where he was, then remembered. Joel’s bedroom. The clock on the bedside table was showing 04:00. The morning was still dark, but they hadn’t drawn the blinds, so the waning streetlights from outside cast looping shadows around the bedroom, with the occasional blinking reflection from a neon sign.

  “Hello there,” Joel said, very softly.

  Ah, yes. That would be the other reason Matt remembered exactly where he was. Joel was sitting up beside Matt in the bed. He was still naked, from what Matt could see, and he had a small pile of papers on his lap, nestled on the sheets.

  Mr. Workaholic Sterling, Matt thought. But now it wasn’t a criticism. It made him smile.

  Joel was a sight for sore eyes, his gaze on Matt increasingly lustful, the papers sliding from the bed without his second glance, shifting himself under the sheet so they lay face-to-face.

  “Enjoying the view?” Matt asked with a grin. He glanced deliberately down Joel’s bare body. His arousal was clear, urgent. “Because I certainly am.”

  “I am too. I’ve been waiting for you. Good thing I’m a patient man.” Joel pushed the sheet back, exposing them both. He ran a hand down over Matt’s hip and between his thighs, caressing the skin. “At least, I usually am.”

  Matt chuckled. “I did tell you to wake me if you needed me.”

  Joel’s smile broadened. “You needed the sleep. But I never have more than a few hours a night, and… well. It’s almost enough, just having you in my bed.”

  “Only almost?” Matt ran a hand through his hair and winced—the tangles were tight. “Sorry if I was snoring.”

  Joel chuckled. “It doesn’t bother me. Just relax.” He continued the affectionate but firm strokes up and between Matt’s legs, his touch lingering under Matt’s balls, letting them settle in his palm, nudging them with his knuckles.

  Matt moaned and arched gently. His body was warm and still loose-limbed from sleep. His cock was beginning to fill. “Mm. So good.”

  “Matt?”

  Matt peered through heavy lids. Somehow, even before he saw the condom packets and a bottle of lube beside the clock, he knew what Joel was asking. “You want to fuck me?”

  “God.” Joel’s expression tightened. He hadn’t looked this tense over his damn work papers. “Very much. But only if you want it too.”

  Why wouldn’t I? Matt thought. But he understood Joel was asking for his consent and commitment.

  He nodded. “I want it too.” His dick hardened faster than he’d imagined it could after such a dozy awakening.

  Joel’s eyes glimmered in the dimly lit room as he reached for a condom and slicked himself up.

  Matt was unusually submissive as Joel spread his legs and hitched them up at the knees. He knew he was splayed out in full view, but the rapt look on Joel’s face trumped any embarrassment. He watched Joel’s expression carefully at every move, checking how he really felt. This was a further step they hadn’t discussed so far. But….

  I want it too. For Matt, that had been the brutal truth.

  Joel slid a lubed finger into Matt, and Matt sucked in a breath.

  Joel looked stricken. “Did that hurt? I don’t want—”

  “For God’s sake. It’s fine. I’m fine.” Matt huffed out a breath and concentrated on the good feeling rather than the shock. It had been a while since anyone had been there. He put a hand to Joel’s cheek. “Just take it slow. And kiss me!”

  Joel smiled again and leaned in for a long, slow morning kiss. He tasted of mint; maybe he’d been up long enough to clean his teeth. Matt wished he was as fresh, but then Joel eased into him, and any wishes were saved for urging Joel to push in harder, farther. Matt relaxed as best he could because he wanted this—oh Jesus, he really did!—and then Joel was fully inside him, and they began to rock together.

  Oh God. God. It was spectacular. Joel’s breath was harsh, shallow. He let out the occasional groan. Matt clung to him, trying to match his rhythm, though the shocks of pleasure through his body unsettled his coordination. He wanted to lift and arch with every thrust Joel made, to feel the tight grip of Joel’s fingers, the hot hunger of Joel’s breath.

  And—oh shit—he was coming too soon again! He fumbled for his cock, bouncing on his belly, and gave it two sharp, twisting strokes. The orgasm burst from him like an internal firework, his hips smacking against Joel’s, his hand clutching wildly at Joel’s hair. As if from a distance—his ears were ringing!—he heard Joel laughing, then gasping. Then Joel’s body shuddered against him, and Matt held him close as he came too.

  Chapter Eighteen

  WORK on Project Palace continued for several weeks in barely controlled frenzy. Following the visit to the goldsmith’s, Matt and Addam had decided to move the diamonds on the crown to the tip of the spokes rather than on the main body. It brought a touch of magic to the final design, and Joel approved wholeheartedly. But it meant reshaping at the goldsmith’s and another set of samples to be prepared. This was the last full week before the finished portfolio was expected at the palace, to say nothing of the time needed to get the design out to merchandisers in time for the wedding itself.

  On the Friday morning, Joel decided to slip out of the office for a while and leave them all to it. There was an advertising agency in Elephant and Castle he needed to visit, and he could take the Tube there and back within a couple of hours. He also needed to clear his head. It was increasingly difficult to concentrate in the same room as Matt. This had never been a problem for him—he had never seen the office as anywhere except where he worked steadily, calmly, and efficiently. But, now? Now he was conscious of Matt at all times. Matt had his own timetable during the day, but Joel found excuses to drop in on Project Palace as often as he could. Just to see Matt, to hear him laugh, to watch him argue with Addam over last-minute amendments, to see him nodding firmly as he went over the product details with Teresa, to hear his sharp but clear instructions to Rafe, who was liaising with their packaging supplier.

  And when he wasn’t watching or listening to Matt, Joel’s mind was still full of the man. But now his thoughts were no longer just dreams, but vivid, sensual, hot memories. Like the night they spent after the visit to the goldsmith’s, when Joel had spilled his heart about his family. When the sex had been so amazing. Like the following couple of nights when they’d both still been ridiculously shy about assuming they’d end up at Joel’s, and had ended up there regardless. Like the next couple of weeks when Joel introduced Matt to some of the best movies Matt seemed totally unaware of, or when Matt took Joel to a couple of live music gigs—Joel had never taken the time to explore everything London had to offer—or when they’d just stayed in, watching TV or playing stupid but surprisingly fun board games, and Joel cooked for them, the atmosphere much more casual than dining out.

  And the sex. My God, the sex. It had been a time of heady, sensual, unruly fun. Matt’s company was an aphrodisiac in itself. They laughed, they argued, they fell asleep on the sofa or tumbled to bed each night, and they fucked with astonishing, overwhelming passion.

  That very morning, they’d had to rush breakfast because Matt had slept in, and Matt didn’t want everyone turning around in the office and staring at the pair of them arriving together, and late.

  “You take a shower first,” Joel called to Matt from the kitchen as he stacked the dishwasher, “and I’ll get my papers together. We can get
a cab if the maintenance work on the Tube is still delaying things. I want to have a chat with you on the way, about the latest progress report from the goldsmith’s. Oh, and I have to take a call from the US tonight. How do you feel about getting a late takeaway, finding a movie on Netflix, and making it a Friday night in?” He’d just hitched up his boxers—he wasn’t wearing anything else, and was aimlessly wondering whether to choose a blue or white shirt that day—when Matt pressed up against his back with a groan of need and a strong arm around Joel’s waist.

  Joel’s heartbeat went from steady to roller coaster in a second. “I thought you wanted—”

  “Down,” Matt growled.

  With a moan, Joel went swiftly to his knees. He trailed his hands down Matt’s naked body as he went—when had Matt lost the T-shirt and sleep shorts he’d been wearing at breakfast?—and eagerly opened his mouth for Matt’s cock. He sucked hard and hungrily, careless of the hard tiled floor on his knees, loving the stuttering sounds Matt made as his climax approached, reaching to run his fingers down between Matt’s buttocks, feeling Matt tense and grab hold of the counter to hold himself steady as Joel slid a finger into his arsehole, loving the smell of Matt’s sweat and a stray thread of come that spat onto his nose as Matt came apart under Joel’s loving touch….

  God. It was all fabulous, all magnificent. No wonder Joel struggled to keep his head clear and his emotions stable when he was at the office. No one had commented, either to him or Matt, but he had a strong suspicion they knew he and Matt were seeing each other. Would that affect the project work in any way? Joel had no idea—he’d never been in a relationship since he’d taken the CEO role at Starsmith, and definitely never one with a colleague.

  He stopped to get a takeaway coffee and rashly picked up a pastry to eat with it. It’d be a long, hardworking weekend. Matt had even foregone one of his precious trips back to Norfolk. But after that, maybe he and Matt could take some time off, go away somewhere. This was a new Joel Sterling, not working twenty-four seven, but that was what Matt had brought into his life, and he didn’t regret a minute. He was already impatient to get back to the office, to see Matt, to make some tentative plans. He wanted to spend as much time with Matt as he could. To have fun, to talk in comfort about their work, then go to bed together every night. To caress, have sex, make love.

  Love? That word appeared a lot in his vocabulary nowadays.

  Joel was no fool. He knew how short a time he’d known Matt, how badly their relationship had started. That didn’t preclude two adult men having excellent sex, and no strings was a perfectly good arrangement for some. But as he’d confessed to Matt the first night they’d stayed at Joel’s flat, this was something more. It had happened fast and without any warning, but Joel had fallen hard for Matt. Not just for his looks, for his aggressive kissing, his uninhibited fucking. Joel liked Matt’s frowns and grumpy asides as much as he liked his broad grins and blunt teasing. He loved Matt’s enthusiasm and passion for his work, his excitement over the treasures he found at the dig, his fierce loyalty toward his family.

  Joel had never felt like this with anyone before. If this was love, it was unnerving. Matt hadn’t replied that night—hadn’t said he felt exactly the same—but did that matter right now, when things were so good? Looking down at his sticky hands, Joel realized he’d eaten the pastry and never registered the taste.

  He exited the Tube at Elephant and Castle and called up a London map on his phone to double-check where the agency was. The app popped up already set on local, and Joel recalled Matt was staying in this area. Joel had checked the location when Teresa brought in Matt’s HR forms for signing. What had Matt said? He was sharing a friend’s flat during the week. Joel felt a stupid, brief twist of jealousy, then dismissed it. After all, Matt was with him most nights now. And if this had been a boyfriend at the time, Matt would have told Joel. He wouldn’t lie about something like that. But Joel did wonder who it might be. Matt had never volunteered the information, and Joel hadn’t thought to ask. As far as he knew, Matt didn’t have any siblings, and he’d only ever mentioned Gary as family. An old school friend maybe, or a friend of the Barth family.

  The houses up this street were packed close together, but the four-story style meant they’d been converted into generously sized, self-contained flats. The ground floor in each case was usually taken by small businesses—solicitors, financial advisors, advertising agencies—and Joel recalled there were jewelry businesses here too. He rarely went to his competitors’ offices. They would meet at trade events, or at a neutral location if there were business negotiations in progress. The same way that Starsmith’s head office was for staff and clients only.

  Someone came out of a front door at a property halfway up the other side of the street. Joel paused to take another sip of coffee, watching a well-dressed, slightly plump young man pause on the doorstep, his back to Joel. He laughed at something or someone still inside the building and waved as if in goodbye.

  I know you. Joel frowned to himself. It was always like that when you saw someone familiar but not in the place you expected. He met a lot of new people through work, and out of context, it was often difficult to remember how you knew them in the first place. The man turned, a grin still on his face, and ran quickly down the steps to the pavement outside. He darted away in the opposite direction, raising a hand to hail a taxi.

  It’s Dan Llewellyn. Of Marchant’s, the silver merchants. Dan, whom Joel had seen most recently at Claridge’s, on the night he met Matt for the first time. Who’d been aggressive about doing business, and blatantly angry at Joel snubbing him. Who had a reputation for self-seeking and occasionally underhand deals. Joel glanced back at the house Dan had just left, and the number in bold silver numerals on its doorframe.

  Wasn’t that Matt’s address too?

  Was Matt staying with Dan Llewellyn?

  Joel’s legs actually felt shaky, and he leaned against the railing opposite until he got his breath back. He had no evidence that Matt knew Dan, and he wasn’t totally sure of the number of Matt’s London address. Whenever Matt “popped back to the flat” to get clean clothes, Joel never went with him—why would he?—and Matt never announced exactly where he was going. Joel had no reason to suspect Matt lived there at all. But… Matt had been in the trade as part of Barth Gems. Had he made connections at Marchant’s? The seed of suspicion bit deeply, whatever logic Joel drew on.

  Unbidden, the memory of Matt’s anger at Starsmith’s purchase of his family company flashed back into Joel’s mind—Matt’s anger at Joel himself. That had been deeply felt. It wouldn’t be forgotten so easily, even if Matt and Joel were now… what?

  Joel’s next few moments passed in confusion, with a sick feeling in his stomach. He was ashamed he thought badly of Matt, so quickly, but also reminded how his caution had stood him in good stead in past business. After all, how long had he known Matt? What dealings had they shared, apart from the last few weeks on Project Palace?

  Enough to take him to bed. Enough to let Matt see Joel at his most vulnerable, to make him cry out with passion, enough to make Joel reach for him, need him, beg for his touch….

  Enough to let him into my heart.

  He turned sharply back toward the Tube. The visit to the agency would have to wait for another time. By the time he was back at Mayfair station, his steps were less shaky. Even so, he was distracted and nearly bumped into a family of tourists at the exit. They were hovering around one of the small booths of souvenir goods beside the ticket office, chatting and laughing. Joel mumbled an apology, but they didn’t notice. The dad was looking at scarves for London football teams, while his wife was browsing an upright stand of fridge magnets. Joel didn’t intend to look any closer—he was on his way back to the office, and his mind was full of other issues. But he was distracted by the kids calling excitedly to each other over a table of London memorabilia: plates and mugs with scenes of London landmarks, egg cups and shot glasses, badges and costume jewelry enameled with the
Union Jack, a teddy bear wearing a furry, mock bearskin hat, with a royal crown garishly displayed on its T-shirt.

  A royal crown? Joel did a double take.

  He was used to seeing royal paraphernalia in souvenir shops. The heritage was, after all, one of the reasons foreign tourists and natives alike loved Great Britain. But this print wasn’t of the usual state crown with its ostentatious jewels, golden fleur-de-lis, and purple velvet padding. It was stripped down, more stylish, a modern twist on a royal theme.

  Joel stepped into the small, closely stocked shop. He pushed past the tourist family, squeezing between the packed shelves until he was in front of the soft-toy display. The teddy bear’s embroidered mouth grinned up at him, as if in mockery, its fluffy arms and legs protruding from the printed T-shirt. With a wave of nausea, he realized his initial impression had been right.

  It was the Starsmith design.

  Chapter Nineteen

  JOEL continued to stare, trying to find proof that he was mistaken, that this design was coincidentally similar to the one he’d been working on for weeks—the one that was strictly confidential, according to the Royal Household. After all, a crown was a crown, right? Toys were produced daily with royal emblems on them. Meanwhile, the shopkeeper had caught sight of him and eased out from behind his counter, coming to offer help to a new customer.

  Joel picked up the teddy bear, gripping it tightly, peering hard at it. No, it was definitely the Starsmith crown! It was a less sophisticated version of the elegant coronet, and its base wasn’t made up of laurel leaves, but a clumsy mix of what might have been beech or elm. But it had the three distinctive spokes, and the pair of diamonds—or in this case, glass—nestled at the base of each one.