“I—”
He laughs. “Even now you’ve got a face on you that says, ‘Escape, escape. Emotional conversation happening. Abort!’” His laughter fades. “Just do yourself a favour, let your guard down. I think you know he’s worth it.”
Tal leaves me to my thoughts, and I look down at the goods stacked up by my feet.
What the hell did Macs do to get these usually prickly people to not only like him but also want to give him stuff?
With a shake of my head, I gather it all up and take it to the kitchen. Once it’s safely put away, I decide there’s no time like the present to finish off the cleaning.
While completing the mindless chores, I mull over Rex, his reaction to me, and the strange gifts from the locals.
And I can’t make sense of any of it.
But, one thing I do know is Macsen Evans is an enigma. I want to find out all his secrets, and then I want to make him stay here, with me.
Forever.
Chapter 19
Macsen
Thankfully, Rex made it back to his hotel safely, and when I try to get him to let me in so we can talk about his shitty behaviour, he refuses to open the door.
“Unless you’ve brought that pretty blonde from the pub with you, I’m not interested, Macs.”
He’s slurring a little more, and I reckon that has something to do with the fully stocked mini-bar I saw in his room earlier.
There’s no point talking to Rex when he’s like this.
I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen Rex this inebriated, and he doesn’t make the best drunk.
“Fine. I’ll be here first thing in the morning. If you don’t open up, I’ll tell housekeeping I’m worried for your safety, and they’ll let me in. So, make sure you’re sober, Rex. Because you owe Ellis an apology.”
“Bollocks, do I,” he slurs loudly back.
Like I said, there’s no point talking to him right now.
“Put the bottle down and get some sleep,” I whisper shout through the door, trying my best to keep my voice down, so as not to disturb any other guests.
Rex isn’t bothered about upsetting anyone else, his voice steadily getting louder each time he responds, his words becoming more and more incoherent.
I’m happy he’s safe, of course I am, but as I walk away from his door, I can’t help but be both worried and annoyed by his behaviour.
I know I dropped a few bombs on him today with my future plans, but I didn’t tell him anything near the truth.
I didn’t tell him about the connection between Ellis and me. I didn’t try to explain how I’ve known him for eternity, or admit I’ve been searching for him my whole life. I think Rex may have had me committed if I did.
No, all that is information I never share with anyone except Ellis. Why would anyone else understand if they can’t feel what we do?
By the time I’m outside in the cool night air, my thoughts have turned from Rex to Ellis—not that he’s ever entirely out of my mind.
On my walk back to the pub, I wonder if it’s too late to knock on his door, and if I do, will he turn me away after the shit Rex pulled tonight?
No, I saw the way he looked at me when I left. He wanted me to stay. He wanted me to pull him close and kiss him.
He wanted me in his bed again.
A shiver runs from the ends of my hair to the tip of my toes. The memory of what it’s like to share Ellis’s bed potent and uncontrollable.
In all our lives together, we’ve always been unable to keep our hands off each other. Only this time it feels more.
More desire, more sensual, more need.
Sex with Ellis is on another level, and I don’t need to have been with another person for comparison. It’s only ever been Ellis. It will always only ever be Ellis. What we have has no competition.
The pub is closed with its doors locked by the time I get back. All the lights are still on inside, so I could knock and have Tal let me in, but there’s no point when I have a key for the side door.
Letting myself in, I climb the stairs, bypass my door and knock on his.
No answer.
Another soft knock earns the same response.
Maybe he doesn’t want to see me after all, or perhaps he’s downstairs sharing a nightcap with Tal.
I debate whether to let myself in. I could call his name as I open the door and see what reaction I get. Then I remember, he’s been working all day, he may have already crawled into bed and gone to sleep. It would be selfish of me to wake him.
Still, I stand there outside his door for a ridiculously stupid amount of time, needing to be closer to him. If Rex could see me now, he’d call me pathetic, and I’d have to agree.
“The door is unlocked. You can go inside anytime you want,” comes a smooth, deep voice from behind me. A voice I now know better than my own. I’ve studied the way his tongue curls around certain words, how his lilting accent drags out some of the vowels and makes others shorter. How it deepens when he’s aroused or angry, and how it becomes more musical when he’s animated and talking about the things he loves. Ellis’s voice is a treat for my entire senses, and I could be happy just listening to him, but the urge to see him outweighs everything else, and likely always will.
When I turn, he’s holding the padlock in his hand, arm extended in offering, the metal hook looped over his index finger.
“Didn’t really think this belonged in the cold stores with your other bounty, so I brought it up for you.”
I reach out to take it from him, and just as my fingers touch the cold metal, his other hand snaps out and grabs my wrist, pulling me to him.
“I brought something else up for you, too.”
“What?” My voice is raw and croaky, all the blood in my system racing to places that Ellis always seems to make ache.
“Me.”
He kisses me, and while I expect it to be fervent and claiming, it’s not. It’s reverence and adoration. It’s adulation and devotion.
It’s a kiss that feels a lot like love.
While I do, and always will love Ellis, my feelings never change because I retain all our memories. Ellis doesn’t get that advantage or curse, as it sometimes feels when we’re apart.
Here, now, with the way he holds me, unable to let me go, and with the way his lips worship mine, I know he’s starting to feel it, too. It’s not merely that feeling of knowing me and the connection we share.
He’s starting to remember what it’s like to love me.
As he touches and tastes—pulling me ever closer, holding me even tighter, learning every corner of my mouth—he’s knocking down all his barriers, and letting me in even more than he has before.
He doesn’t even have to say it; I can feel it.
It’s in every skim of his fingers and every lick of his tongue.
Ellis is in love with me.
When we finally break apart for air, he doesn’t let me go far, and I can feel the bite of metal against my hip from the lock still in his hand.
“I’ve missed you.” His words are a confession offered freely.
“I’ve missed you, too.”
“Was your friend okay?”
A light laugh leaves my lips, the exhalation of air ghosting across his mouth.
“My friend is an arsehole when he’s drunk, but he does have a name.”