Retreat From Love (36 page)

Freddy sat back with a look of bewilderment. “I seem to be several paces behind in this conversation. No, the fact that you do it is not a surprise. The fact that you admit you like to do it is a surprise.”

Brett sighed and put his coffee cup down. “I’m sorry, Freddy. I know I’m not making much sense. I’m still trying to work through things in my own head.” He tapped his forehead as Anne had done at the pond the first time they’d made love.

“There is a lot brewing in here, you know. It’s about time I tried to figure out what exactly I want.”

Freddy was slack-jawed in amazement for a moment before he got himself back in control. “Is it too soon to ask if you’ve made any progress?”

Brett smiled and picked up his cup again. “A little. I’ll keep you informed.”

Freddy smiled back. “You do that.” He leaned forward and resumed eating. Brett let him finish, content to watch.

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When he was done, he sat back and gestured at Brett with his coffee cup. “You’ve been patience itself, Brett. Go ahead. What do you have to tell me about Anne?”

Brett turned his whole body on the sofa to face Freddy, pulling his bad leg partially up onto the cushions. “I don’t believe your mother.”

Freddy let his head rest on the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. “To be quite frank, I’m inclined to disbelieve her as well. But the more I think about it, the more I see facts that support what she said.”

“Like what?”

Freddy sighed and put his cup down on the table half full. “Like that fact that my father did spend an inordinate amount of time at the parsonage. He practically lived there, Brett. He had his own room.”

Freddy leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and he clenched his hands together before him. “Mrs. Goode lost her composure the other day talking about my father. He left her his books, his history. He treated Anne like a daughter.” He pinched his nose. “He brought her here, to Ashton Park, when my mother was not in residence.”

He looked over at Brett. “Anne knows more about this pile than I do.”

“That could simply be a result of hearing about it from her father and yours.”

Freddy was making some good points, but Brett remained unconvinced.

Freddy collapsed against the back of the sofa, not looking at Brett. He stared down at his hands. “I haven’t told you the most telling fact.”

Brett waited silently.

Freddy blew out a breath and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “She looks like Jerome, Brett.” He turned and his eyes were bleak. “I never realized it before, but she and Jerome looked like brother and sister.”

Brett had never met Jerome, so he could neither confirm nor deny that. “How?”

Freddy ticked the similarities off on his fingers. “The same hair color, so dark a brown it’s almost black. Curly hair too. The same nose, slightly upturned. The same chin.”

Brett was shaking his head. “Those could all be coincidences, Freddy. It is not enough to prove your mother’s claim.”

Freddy started to shake his head, but stopped and sighed. “You’re right, of course.

And knowing my mother’s propensity for manipulation and lies, I can’t just take her word.”

Brett waited. He knew Freddy would reach the same conclusion Brett had

yesterday.

“I have to go see Mrs. Goode.” Freddy looked stricken. “What if she confirms it?

What if Anne is my sister?”

Brett didn’t hesitate. He reached out for Freddy and grabbed his arm, dragging him across the sofa. Freddy fell toward him, unbalanced, completely unprepared for Brett’s move. By the time he understood what Brett was doing he was already in Brett’s arms, 182

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his head against Brett’s chest. Brett tightened his arms, hugging him close, and Freddy wrapped his arms around Brett’s chest, burying his face in Brett’s lapel.

“If she is, then we’ll deal with it,” Brett told him softly. “But I can’t believe it, Freddy. I won’t.”

Freddy sank onto Brett. This was where he’d wanted to be for five years, wrapped up in Brett’s arms. Brett felt solid and strong, as if nothing would get to Freddy past him. Freddy buried his nose deeper in Brett’s jacket, smelling that unique cologne that was Brett, and linen, and spice, and just…Brett. Freddy’s heart pounded, his palms were sweating, and his cock was hard. Oh yes, he was definitely in a bad way. Then Brett shifted and Freddy felt against his stomach that Brett was in the same condition.

God, that gorgeous cock of his was hard. For Freddy.

Freddy turned his face and rubbed his cheek against Brett’s chest. “Brett?”

Brett hummed, and Freddy took that as an encouragement.

“If Anne is my sister, will you marry her and leave?” Freddy still thought this was the best solution.

Brett stilled beneath him, and then he buried his hand in Freddy’s hair and tilted his face up. Brett looked so serious.

“Yes, Freddy. But it would be one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do in my life.”

Freddy’s heart felt as if it would pound through his chest. “Why?” he whispered.

“I love Anne.” Brett’s statement was matter-of-fact, and because Freddy already knew it to be true, it didn’t bother him. “But I also care for you, Freddy. We have been constant companions for over five years. You saved my life. I cannot imagine life without you.”

Freddy tried not to let the hurt show. Brett didn’t love him. But he did care deeply, and that was enough for Freddy. It would have to be enough. Freddy traced Brett’s beloved features with his gaze. “Neither can I.”

Brett looked away, releasing Freddy’s head. “I…I know you have feelings for me, Freddy.” He sounded unsure. Freddy simply waited. He could tell more was coming, and surely Brett knew Freddy loved him after all this time. “But do you still want the same things? After Anne…I would understand if you were content with our

relationship the way it is.”

Freddy wasn’t sure what Brett meant. After Anne? Because Freddy knew that Brett was in love with Anne? Brett didn’t think Freddy would be content to share him?

“I still want you, Brett.” Freddy didn’t mince words. He’d waited years for this opportunity. He wasn’t going to be coy now.

Brett grew more tense, not less, at Freddy’s admission. Freddy pushed away, partially sitting so he could see Brett’s face. Brett had a furrow between his brows as he frowned. Oh hell, Freddy thought. Apparently that wasn’t the right answer. “I can see 183

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you still feel the same way.” He started to climb off Brett, but the older man grabbed his arms and held him there. He still wouldn’t look at Freddy.

“What if it’s not what you thought it would be?” Brett’s question was quiet, but Freddy heard the intensity in it.

“What do you mean?” Freddy asked, exasperated. “I already know what it is, remember? I know exactly what it will be.”

Brett finally looked at him and Freddy recognized the emotion in his eyes. It was fear.

“Yes, but what if
I’m
not what you thought I’d be?” Brett worried his lower lip and Freddy started to sweat in earnest.
Please, God
, he thought to himself,
let this be leading
where I think it’s leading.

As usual, Brett took the roundabout way to get to his point. With everyone else he employed direct conversation. When it came to Freddy and sex and their feelings for one another it was always vague and oblique and aggravatingly unclear.

“I’ve never been with a man,” Brett told him as if he was revealing some great secret.

Freddy had to force himself not to laugh. Instead he kept his face open and pleasant. “Yes, I know.”

“I’ve never wanted to.” Well, that was discouraging, but again, hardly a secret.

“And now?” Freddy asked hopefully.

Brett sighed. “Not now. For the past four years. Since you crawled naked into my bed when I could barely stand and enthusiastically informed me that you wanted me to fuck you.”

Freddy blushed at the memory. He’d been humiliated at Brett’s soft but adamant refusal. Had he ever been that young? Freddy’s brain suddenly stopped and then snapped into focus. Did Brett just say he’d wanted Freddy for the past four years?

“What the devil?” He sat up with a jerk. “You wanted me but you denied it? Why?

When you knew I was willing?”

Brett scrubbed his face with his big hands and Freddy’s gut clenched. He was by God going to have those hands on him before the morning was out.

Brett sighed. “I really did think you were too young to know your own mind, Freddy. And then it became a useful excuse. The truth is I was scared and,” he paused and tapped his forehead again, “things up here were still confused.”

“How confused are you now?” Freddy demanded, pressing his hand to Brett’s

chest.

Brett smiled ruefully. “About whether or not I want you? Not at all. About whether or not our being together is a good idea? Very.”

Freddy pushed him back with a gentle shove and Brett fell against the arm of the sofa with a surprised, “Oof!” Quickly, Freddy straddled his lap and rested both hands on either side of his head on the armrest.

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“Freddy?” Brett sounded alarmed.

Freddy leaned down until his mouth was a breath away from Brett’s. He could feel how hard it was for Brett not to pull away. “There is only one way to find out,” he whispered against those sculpted lips. He felt Brett’s hot breath on his mouth as he exhaled sharply and then pulled in a panicked breath.

“Find out?” Brett asked breathlessly.

“Whether our being together is a good idea,” Freddy answered. He leaned in just a bit closer and lightly rubbed his lower lip along Brett’s. Brett groaned and Freddy felt it reverberate straight down his spine to lodge in the head of his cock.

“Christ, Brett,” he whispered, putting every ounce of desperation and desire in his voice that he’d burned with for five long years, “let me kiss you. Please.”

Brett barely nodded but it was enough. With butterflies chasing around in his stomach Freddy closed the scant distance between them. The feel and taste of Brett on his lips, finally, had him groaning. He blindly reached up and cupped Brett’s jaw, the scrape of Brett’s stubble on his palms an arousing itch. Freddy tilted one way and tipped Brett’s head the other and he could almost hear the click as their mouths fit together so perfectly. Brett’s hands snaked up and gripped the sides of Freddy’s jacket, pulling it tight. He moaned and his mouth opened beneath Freddy’s, and Freddy dove in to that pool of warm sensation and hot, intense Brett.

As soon as his tongue slipped into Brett’s mouth Brett lost his restraint. His arms locked around Freddy’s waist, pulling him down until his crotch rested against Brett’s and his chest pressed against the solid wall of muscle that was Brett. His senses were bombarded as Brett controlled the kiss. Brett bit his lip, widening Freddy’s open mouth, plundering it with his hot, wicked tongue as his hand gripped Freddy’s waist, grinding his cock against him. The other hand slipped underneath Freddy’s jacket and ran up his back, the heat of his palm pressing between Freddy’s shoulder blades through the thin linen of his shirt. Freddy could feel his calluses catching on the material and he groaned, pressing so hard against Brett he thought he might sink into him, body and soul.

This, this was what Freddy had dreamed of, what he’d longed for. It was worth the wait. In some still rational part of his brain he understood that he’d had to wait until Brett was ready. Brett may still have demons chasing around in his head, but he was ready to love Freddy now.

With a desperate groan Brett broke the kiss, only to press his damp, hot lips to Freddy’s cheek, and then trail them down to Freddy’s neck. He yanked Freddy’s neck cloth out of the way and licked and sucked his neck. He sucked hard, and Freddy arched into it, loving the sting of Brett’s uncontrolled desire for him. Freddy worked his arm out from between them and buried his hand in that teasing, tempting brown hair, holding Brett to him. Brett skated his lips up to Freddy’s ear and ran his tongue around the inside lightly, making Freddy shiver and shake.

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“What about Anne?” Brett rasped in his ear. “I can’t…if you love her, Freddy, then this is wrong.”

Freddy was breathing heavily, and he found talking difficult. But he knew this was important. As hard as it was, Freddy pulled away so Brett could see his face.

“Why? You love Anne, and yet this is right for you.” Brett looked uncomfortable, as if he’d revealed more than he ought to have. And suddenly Freddy understood. Brett loved him too. The euphoria that coursed through him left him lightheaded and he leaned on Brett again. Pressing his lips to Brett’s ear, he whispered, “I can love two people too, Brett.”

“Freddy,” Brett growled and then he was kissing Freddy again, devouring him, just as Freddy had seen him do to Anne. This more than anything proved his feelings to Freddy. Brett was too honorable, too tortured by guilt, to make love to Freddy unless he truly loved him. Freddy’s eyes burned behind his closed lids as he tried not to cry with the joy he felt.

Brett squirmed beneath him and Freddy felt Brett’s hands grip his waist and he was suddenly turned and dumped onto the sofa, the kiss broken, his back pressed against the cushioned back and his front pressed against Brett. Brett turned and their hard cocks slid and pressed against one another and both men groaned.

“Freddy,” Brett rasped, his hips grinding against Freddy’s, “I didn’t know. Christ, I had no idea how good this would feel.”

“Good does not do this feeling justice, Brett,” Freddy answered breathlessly. A whimper escaped him as Brett thrust against him, driving his back into the sofa.

“I’m sorry,” Brett panted, pulling back. “I’m sorry. Too rough.”

Freddy grabbed Brett’s rump and pulled him back, hard. “No, not too rough. Just right.” God, Brett felt so good in his hands. Firm, heavily muscled, round, his cheeks fit in Freddy’s palms perfectly. He felt the muscles bunch and turn rock hard as Brett thrust against him again and he groaned with pleasure.

Brett pulled away and Freddy protested weakly, trying to get him back. Then he felt Brett’s hands frantically fumbling with his trousers.