Invitation to the Dance

by Tamara Allen

  “I wish you hadn’t mentioned that.”

  “I’m regretting it, myself.”

  Thunder cracked just above the roof and Charlie tried not to flinch. “Think we’re in danger of catching on fire?”

  “If we do, the rain will put it out.”

  “You’re not really a hand at comforting a fellow, are you?”

  Will laughed. “You don’t find the thought comforting?”

  Charlie eyed him curiously. “You’re not rallying for my benefit, I hope. I know this wasn’t the day you were expecting.”

  “It was a better day than I could have imagined.”

  Charlie didn’t know what to make of that. “You cared something for her—”

  “I do care a great deal for her. For a long time, I thought it was a suitable basis for marriage. I hoped it was, because I’d come to believe I’d be alone the rest of my days if I didn’t marry Violet.” His mouth flattened to a rueful line. “It struck me today how selfish I’ve been, to want to tie her to a marriage of respectability, when we were simply friends. When I saw her this morning, so full of joy…” The smile that returned was soft. “She fell in love and saved us both.”

  Charlie snorted. “You’re not that old, Father William. You’ll fall. Most likely for someone you shouldn’t…” He noticed Will’s somber expression. “You’re not going to tell me you already have?”

  “I don’t trust myself to say.”

  That seemed evasive—or possibly truthful—but the hesitation in Will’s manner was the more concerning part. If was almost as if… No, he wasn’t going to let himself entertain the notion that Will’s earlier good cheer—or present trepidation—had anything to do with him. No matter how much his suddenly pounding heart was convinced of it.

  “You don’t know if you’re in love? How about a kiss? That usually gives a fellow a good idea.”

  Will seemed to be avoiding his gaze. “I don’t know. It might not be welcome.”

  Funny, what an easy thing it was to hear both anxiety and hope in a voice barely above a whisper in the midst of a thunderstorm. He shifted on the hard bench, leaning against Will as he’d done in Caroline’s garden, but less this time solely for the warmth. “I’m not suggesting you should just jump right into it, you understand. Go gently. Like this…” He brushed his lips, feather-light, against Will’s cheek, and the ache that had been so long-standing inside him robbed him of his voice. Breathing was becoming something of a challenge, besides, but he couldn’t bear to let the moment end. He tried to take some comfort in realizing the lightning wouldn’t kill him; his heart would quit from sheer exhaustion first.

  If Will withdrew…

  But Will didn’t. He turned his face so his breath was a tender caress on Charlie’s skin. “If my kiss is well-received…” His lips touched Charlie’s. Feather-light. “Jump?”

  “God, yes.”

  It was more breath than sound, but apparently Will’s hearing was as exceptional at the moment. Warm lips were full on his as if the agony of anticipation had been no less, hands reaching for him, pulling him closer, and Charlie gave himself over to it in amazement. He’d seen bare glimpses of Will’s feelings toward him and hadn’t dared really hope. But then, Will had not been free. Whatever he’d felt, he’d kept hidden behind his natural reserve.

  Let loose at last, it was a passion finding ferocious expression. Charlie encouraged him until they were both gasping for breath and uncomfortably warm in their overcoats. He suggested the coats might be put to better purpose and Will agreed. Once the towels were on the floor, the coats followed—as did Charlie, as Will all but tackled him. Flat on his back and delighting in Will’s fevered effort to get him out of his clothes, Charlie belatedly remembered the door. “Is there a way to fasten the latch so no one comes in?”

  “I don’t know what may be coming in besides sea water. Possibly a striped bass or two.” But Will rose and barred the door—and then began to divest himself of tie and waistcoat while he was still standing.

  Charlie tugged at his trouser leg. “Come back down or you’ll have to thaw me out again.”

  Will obliged, settling over him like the warmest of blankets, and kissed him in a way that made even the thought of blankets superfluous. Just as dispensable were ties, shoes, and everything in between. When Will’s nimble fingers found his trouser buttons for an altogether better reason this time, Charlie closed his eyes, losing himself in a moment he’d imagined more than once. But imagination held no candle to the experimental press of Will’s palm against his cock—nor the curl of Will’s fingers around the length of it, a grip that firmed before Will indulged himself with a couple of slow strokes. Charlie groaned, curling toward him, but Will pushed him back and stripped away trousers and the rest, leaving Charlie as bare as the day he was born.

  Before the cold air could do more than send a shiver up his spine, Will’s own naked warmth was a pleasurable weight on top of him, mouth finding his for quieter kiss that seemed to say… Well, something Charlie couldn’t quite interpret, but felt glad for, all the same. Eyes closed, he ran his hands over Will’s shoulders, down his back, cradling his buttocks, and Will pressed against him, crushing his hard length against Charlie’s. The sensation was so maddeningly wonderful, he needed nothing else… Until Will’s mouth moved away from his to roam over skin even more sensitive, seeming set on devouring every inch of him.

  Lightning flashed, thunder crashing, and Charlie gasped. The affectionate kiss Will pressed just below his navel distracted him and he was helpless to keep from gasping again as the heat of Will’s lips came down over his cock. Will’s hands came around him, too, stroking in rhythm with the pull of his mouth and Charlie wanted to last forever; but the unhurried pace became more purposeful, and not even a brief slowing of Will’s firm stroke could prolong it. Blinding pleasure hit, and Charlie let himself be swept under. It was wonderfully slow to subside, and when it did, he was still warmly sheathed. He reached to brush his fingers through Will’s damp, mussed hair, and Will in apparent retaliation ran a teasing tongue up the underside of his cock.

  Charlie winced. “Have mercy. You’ve taken the life out of it for some time to come.”

  Will rose to his knees. “Half hour at most.”

  Charlie liked the wicked shine in his eyes. “That long, you think?”

  He pulled Will down to the makeshift bed and fell upon him with a leisurely kiss, one designed to torment. Will broke from it, gasping. “Drown me. It’ll be quicker.”

  Charlie settled more solidly against him, finding a distinct enjoyment in threading fingers into Will’s hair. “Oh, I’m going to drown you,” he whispered, and covered the parted lips with a kiss no longer teasing. Will groaned, all encouragement, and raised his hips as Charlie ground against him. Charlie pressed a thigh against hard, needful flesh and was tempted to keep going, but he wanted to give Will the same pleasure Will had given him.

  Easing back, he bent low and took Will into his mouth inch by slow inch. Trusting that Will was anticipating every caress of tongue and lips, he lost himself in a thorough exploration—until Will’s restless thrusting called for something more purposeful. Bringing all pressure and speed to bear, Charlie wrung the most satisfactory gasp from him, a delightful noise of abandon coming from Will. It was a climax hitting sharp and deep, and Charlie exulted in the sound of it. He did his damnedest to carry Will through it as tenderly as Will had carried him, at the last sliding up to lie beside him as the quieting storm continued to crack and rumble overhead.

  It seemed an impossibly good day. But what had him awed was that tomorrow could conceivably be even better. “I guess we’ve forgone any chance of Heaven,” he said with a tired laugh.

  Will rolled toward him and settled comfortably against him, damp hair tickling his neck. The sigh that reached Charlie’s ears was soft, but full of contentment. “Isn’t this it?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  On such a bitterly cold Saturday, the ferry was the last place Will woul
d ordinarily have wanted to be. But huddled beside Charlie, he didn’t mind the bumpy ride or the sting of the wind in his face. Even the self-satisfied fishermen and their all too fragrant baskets of fish were a source of amusement; one that helped keep him awake after two nights of little rest.

  If he was damned tired, he couldn’t blame the hotel for it. Once he and Charlie had escaped their impromptu seaside cottage, they’d taken a room at a respectable establishment farther inland and fallen into bed with every intention of getting some sleep. A steady rain on the roof and a warm bed in the darkness should have worked sufficiently in that regard. But Charlie proved something of a sprawler, and Will’s effort to pay only passing attention to the nearness of him came to naught when Charlie rolled closer and pressed a kiss on the nape of his neck.

  “We’ll be sleeping the day away,” Will warned with a laugh.

  “You’re encouraging me, you realize.”

  “We really should go back tomorrow.”

  “We will.” Charlie slipped an arm around him and buried his face in Will’s shoulder. “I’m still giving thanks. So to speak.”

  Will snorted. “Were you always such a charmer?”

  “You only just noticed?”

  “Well, you have to admit you didn’t make the best first impression.”

  “Didn’t I tell you to try the Times?”

  Bemused, Will turned to look at him. “You imagine that made a good impression?”

  “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I hadn’t thought they’d grab you right up.”

  It seemed foolish to pursue it, but… “You thought I was a good editor, but you wouldn’t have me at the Herald.”

  “I couldn’t let you take all the snap out of my copy,” Charlie said as if it were the most reasonable answer in the world.

  Will groaned softly, then laughed. “I don’t think anyone could take the snap out of you, Charlie.”

  “I didn’t make too bad of an impression, did I?”

  Will couldn’t see him clearly in the dimness, but sensed an incorrigible grin was in place. “It may be better to say you improved upon that impression with time.”

  It was Charlie’s turn to snort. “That’s the best you can do?”

  “Give me a while. I may come up with another tack.”

  “I’ll come up with one,” Charlie said, and pushing him flat on his back, kissed him like a man in no way ready for sleep.

  Consequently, they hadn’t wakened till two, and instead of returning directly to the city, betook themselves to an extravagant dinner at Hugot’s with the rather indefinite plan of cobbling together a society column they could turn in by suppertime. Little came of it, and after a sojourn to the beach, it was decided that one more night on the island might prove inspiring. What remained unspoken for the moment was the lack of privacy that awaited them back home. The freedom they’d had in an isolated beach shack was out of the question in a boarding house—unless they cared to find a new residence in a more broad-minded neighborhood.

  But now, with Manhattan in sight, Will knew it was a conversation they couldn’t put off any longer. He nudged a half-asleep Charlie, who only made a disgruntled noise and continued to lean, with his head on Will’s shoulder.

  Will nudged him again. “We’d best talk about this before we resort to spending our pay on hotels we can’t afford.”

  “So we’ll spend our pay on hotels we can afford.”

  “Do you know of any hotels in the Bowery?”

  “Not any where I’d take you.”

  Will broke into a laugh. “Weren’t you the fellow trying to talk me into attending a Bowery concert?”

  “The hotels are rather more…” Charlie sighed. “Perhaps we can find something respectable that isn’t too expensive. Tonight we’ll have to settle for longing glances in a darkened parlor.”

  “I don’t supposed we’d better dare even that much. But I’ll come across the hall and help you write up something for tomorrow.”

  “Only if you promise to behave like a perfect gentleman.”

  “If you will, too.”

  Charlie’s laugh was muffled against Will’s coat collar. “We’re in trouble.”

  Though Will didn’t believe either of them would truly forget themselves and raise the suspicions of their fellow boarders, he found himself taking care to hide any sign of affection that spoke of something other than friendship. They got through supper without a hitch; but that, Will realized when he went across to Charlie’s room, was not even half the battle.

  Will took the chair at the hearth fire, hoping a safe distance might spare them, but Charlie was his usual restless self, refusing to light anywhere until he was ready to put pencil to paper. “This is one of our last columns,” he observed as he finally took the chair opposite Will’s. “I don’t suppose you want to write a piece on the expected engagement of steamship heiress Violet Chapin?”

  “Would you want to write a piece on the expected engagement of brewery heiress Rose Mayhew?”

  Charlie made a wry face. “Have we lost the stomach for this?”

  “It’s rather easier with people you don’t know.”

  “There are a great many people we don’t know. Let’s pick one of them and get on with it.” Charlie got up and began to pace again. “What about all the fair maidens chasing after you at that last party? Anything there?”

  “They were just innocent young women. I don’t think I’d like to get any of them in trouble.”

  “Oh, but you’ll get me in trouble quick as a wink.” Charlie dropped onto the bed and threw Will a grin. “Speaking of trouble… Why don’t you come sit by me?”

  “We agreed to settle for longing glances,” Will reminded him.

  The grin faded and a wistful light came into Charlie’s eyes. “I’ve been dying for you all day.”

  A fellow couldn’t ignore that. Will rose, and as Charlie sat up, perched gingerly beside him. “We’ve got to be careful. You don’t want to be tossed out to the street.”

  “If we’re tossed out together, I wouldn’t mind.”

  “Yes, you would. You care what Miss Donnett thinks of you.”

  “All right, so I do. But…” Charlie’s hand moved from the coverlet to rest on Will’s. “I’ve gotten tired of the world being so heartless.”

  “Miss Donnett isn’t heartless. She just doesn’t understand.” Will leaned against him. “I’ve a story for you. About someone you know.”

  “Yes?”

  “Put it out that you’ve heard Mr. Nesmith’s headed back to California in a week… And you can’t imagine how New York society will do without him.”

  Charlie choked on a laugh seemingly weighted with sudden emotion. “Have you taken a turn for the worse?”

  “In more ways than one.”

  “Gone to the very devil?”

  “Well…” Will didn’t resist as tender lips brushed his jaw. “I’m in Manhattan, after all.”

  “Yes. You should’ve known better.” Charlie leaned against him, so blessedly warm and inviting, Will could only welcome the kiss. It was full of need that had gone beyond bearing and it promised to pull him under if he let it go on. He drew back to catch his breath.

  “Charlie—”

  “I locked the door.”

  “Sounds carry in a quiet house.”

  Charlie’s gaze shone with affection. “You want to wait for the next thunderstorm?”

  “No—”

  “Then kiss me and be quiet about it.”

  With Charlie sprawled over him, kissing him as if there was nothing more pleasurable in the whole of the world, abstaining seemed the greater impossibility; so Will endeavored to contain himself. But Charlie had a way of making him forget where he was and only a sudden rap on the door reminded him. Breathless and unbuttoned, he scrambled up and followed Charlie’s silent direction to duck under the bed. Charlie was in his dressing gown and at the door in a moment, so practiced about it, Will had to wonder if he hadn’t snuck in a fellow or tw
o before.

  With the door only just ajar and voices low, he couldn’t make out the conversation. But when the door closed and Charlie came to kneel beside the bed, he was laughing. “You’ve a caller, Mr. Nesmith.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  Charlie reached down and got hold of his arm and leg, tugging unhelpfully as Will tried to wriggle from beneath the bed. “It’s Mrs. Glasspoole, according to Hilda.” Before Will could rise, Charlie pounced on him and wasted no time finding a tender spot to kiss. “I told her you’d be down straightaway, after I finished ravaging you, piece by glorious piece.”

  “Do you ordinarily seduce fellows by terrifying the life out of them?”

  Charlie answered with lips eloquent and fierce on his, and Will thought he might burn up in the heat of it. With the onrush of desire, worry started to fade—then promptly reasserted itself at another knock on the door. It was agitated, more insistent than Hilda’s brief rap. Charlie dropped his head on Will’s shoulder. “I may take you for a Bowery jaunt after all.”

  “At least I won’t have to hide under the bed.”

  “You might if the police come ’round.”

  The knock sounded again, followed by Archie’s voice, low and anxious. It appeared the police had come around. Will crawled back beneath the bed, moving nearly to the wall, and tried to quiet his breathing as Charlie got up to open the door.

  “‘Evening, Constable,” he said cheerfully.

  Archie’s laugh was rueful. “Never mind… Did I wake you?” Under the apologetic note was surprise.

  Charlie cleared his throat. “No, no. Just taking down some story ideas before I forget them.”

  Archie stepped in, seemingly with some reluctance, and Will had the sense that Charlie was pulling him along. “It could wait till morning—”

  “If it’s left you as sleepless as you look, I don’t think so,” Charlie said. “Come sit down.”

  “It’s nothing terrible,” Archie said as he sat at the hearth. “It’s wonderful, really. But…” That anxious tone again.