Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Brand was a staunchly atheistic man.
Yet he couldn’t deny there was some merit in the concept to at least encapsulate the feeling that could happen, sometimes—of suddenly needing someone else to feel whole, and there being no rhyme or reason to who or when or how it would strike. Simply that one day that person was there…and the next, somehow, life could feel incomplete without them. It might take days to happen, or might take years…
But it was, at least, a common experience for many.
That did not mean it made sense to Brand that he was feeling this. Nor did it mean anything with the young Master oblivious, and likely utterly uninterested.
Yet beneath his surprise, Ashton had leaned in close when Brand kissed him, clutching at him and going soft and sweet and giving in a way that had nearly made Brand into an animal, that whispered those first tiny inklings that he might indeed be counterpart to Brand’s quietly undefined and yet painfully undeniable needs.
Would an exploration of this attraction, if his young Master was amenable, be so very wrong?
Brand closed the book against his thigh, resting his hand against the cover and letting his gaze drift to the thinning streams of people moving down the sidewalk underneath the street lamps, the busy flood of day turned into a quieter flow—groups of friends laughing and chatting, lovers walking hand in hand in that way that made them lean toward each other as if pulled by some unseen yet irresistible force.
If he had an ounce of professionalism, he would put this out of his head. He had enough control over himself that young Master Ashton need never know—and it was best if he didn’t. Brand had not discussed his desires with anyone, but he suspected they would be considered rather taboo. And for all his young Master’s fast and loose ways…
There was an innocence about Ashton that said he was untried in the ways of darker things, and Brand was likely not the man to initiate him.
Above all, he had to put his young Master’s safety and well-being over anything else.
Even over his own need to press Ashton against the wall and kiss him until he went soft again, until his slim fingers tangled in Brand’s suit, until he couldn’t hold himself up without Brand’s arms around him and everything about the young Master turned soft and vulnerable and weak and so very, very desperately in need of protection.
Isn’t there anything you’ve ever wanted? That soft, sighing voice, asking a question Brand had thought he knew the answer to.
He was starting to realize that, perhaps, he didn’t know himself very well at all.
Sighing, he stood, unable to help tidying the empty dishes from his espresso and baklava bar for the busboy out of habit before slipping the book in its little shopping tote. He should retrieve the Mercedes from the office and return to the estate, and hope the young Master would be waiting—tired, likely, with that hangdog look of sheepish disappointment in himself, that neediness he seemed determined to refuse to allow anyone to answer.
But he’d barely made it two steps down the sidewalk before his phone murmured in his pocket—a low sound of falling chimes, delicate and silvery, that he’d set to the young Master’s number. He slipped his phone out and caught the call before the first iteration of the ring had even finish.
And he didn’t even get a chance to speak before Ashton’s voice came over the line, soft and miserable and entreating. “…Brand?”
Ah, bloody hell. Ashton shouldn’t sound like that. Brand closed his eyes. “Yes, young Master Ashton?”
“I’m not okay,” Ash said, then let out a gulping sound that told Brand quite eloquently that he’d either already been crying, or was trying not to. “I’m not okay at all. If I text you an address, can you come get me?”
“You need not even ask. Simply…tell me you are unharmed?”
“I’m not hurt,” Ash said, easing the tightness in Brand’s chest. “I’m just…I’m just not okay and I need you to come because I don’t trust myself to get home on my own.”
Brand smiled faintly, even if it ached. “I will always come to your call, young Master.”
“Always?” Ashton asked, with a note of broken, sweet vulnerability that tugged at Brand’s heart.
“Is that not what a valet is for?”
“…yeah.” It came after a long silence, a shaky breath. “I’ll see you soon?”
“I am already on my way.” And Brand was already moving, retracing his steps back toward the office to fetch the car. “It is not safe or legal for me to speak to you while driving. I will be there for you shortly.”
“Thank you.” Ash’s voice broke. “I just…thank you.”
“There is never any need, my young Master,” Brand said softly, then hung up the phone. It buzzed in his hand a moment later, flashing a text from Ashton with an address not far from the city center, followed by an emoji with an embarrassed smile and a sweatdrop, and another line of text: