Free The Merchant and the Clergyman by Bonnie Dee Page A

sometimes when a little aggressive treatment
was desired and when it was completely the wrong thing to do.
    Declan rose from his seat and took one step
around the table. He paused, waiting, wondering, hoping for a sign
from Fletcher.
    The man gazed up at him with such an odd
mixture of hope and terror. He remained silent, but the way he
stared and then licked his lips gave Declan hope. And yes, James’s
chest rose and fell quickly.
    “Come here,” Declan urged gently.

Chapter Eight
    James couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. If
he rose to his feet, Declan Shaw would see the shameful evidence of
his desire. He damned himself for being overly informal and
removing his jacket when they entered the house. Maybe that gave
Shaw a signal. More likely, James’s hunger showed on his face.
    Shaw took another step closer.
    “Come, James,” he demanded.
    His first name, the command in that
voice—James jammed his fingernails into his palm to bring himself
back, but the mild pain only made the rush of heat more vivid. A
whimper escaped him, and he’d been so lost in the moment, he barely
noticed the sound rising from his own throat until he saw Shaw’s
answering knowing smile.
    Shaw closed the distance then and loomed over
him, tall and imposing. The big man stole all the air around them
and filled James with something more potent and real than simple
breath.
    He touched James’s hair and ran large fingers
through it. Grab my head, force me forward, bruise my mouth. Insistent, urgent, intoxicating desire pulsed through James with
each heartbeat. Once again he felt unwilling and at the power of a
merciless hunger. Fragments of his old shame came back to him and
made the horrible, twisting mixture of utter humiliation and
devastating need more compelling.
    He wanted to cry. He wanted to grab the
powerful body in front of him and bury his face in the woolen
trousers and root for the promise of a hard-driving prick, give
over every bit of his control, and let go of shame for at least a
few minutes.
    He licked his lips again, swallowed, waited
for Shaw’s command or rough shove. Dread and longing in equal
parts. But the large hands on his head were gentle.
    Since James remained seated, Declan Shaw
suddenly dropped to a squat so their faces were at the same level.
Those eyes stared into his, unblinking and filled with
strength.
    James held his breath, but the pause lasted
so long, he found he must gasp and draw in more air.
    Slowly, Shaw leaned close. Only inches away
now, and the cool wash of his exhalation touched James’s face. And
then, as the distance vanished, his breath, fast and uneven grew
warm on James’s skin. The face so close and then… He pressed his
mouth to James’s.
    For the very first time in his life, a person
he desired kissed him. A gentle brush of lips back and forth,
nudging him to life.
    The pressure and hunger of Shaw’s mouth on
his grew far more insistent, but James dropped into the moment as
if he’d been pushed off a cliff. No, that was unfair. As if he’d
thrown himself off. And then Shaw’s tongue slid against his. The
shock and delicious pleasure threw all other thoughts out of his
mind for almost a minute of exploration.
    Declan Shaw’s rough but soft lips, his
demanding tongue, captured James with unfamiliar sweetness. No hint
of force, but James responded. The taste of wine and man filled his
mouth as Declan’s hands guided him, canted his head. A gentle
command and then more tongue, eagerly exploring his mouth. The heat
flooded him, and the fearful craving returned. He trembled.
    When those fingers gripped his head, James
nearly came undone under the pulse of his own growing arousal.
    He shifted in his chair, felt the cloth
scrape against his erection. Too soon he’d be lost in the
humiliation again. That whisper of thought almost made him stop,
but then Shaw pulled him forward, and James slid to the edge of the
chair, opening his legs and allowing that strong, lovely body to
push