Judith swallowed, but once she realized her long glances and lip-biting couldn’t change his mind, she bid him goodnight and walked off to join Mary at the fire.
The air was still thick with the sharp odor of burning lamp oil when a warm finger traced Ned’s, making invisible flames climb his arm and burn the back of his neck. When he looked back, Cole was standing real close.
“That was idiocy,” Cole whispered, but didn’t seem angry.
“An accident. I can only hope a good friend will offer me a place to put my head down.” Ned’s hair bristled in anticipation. What he’d done was mad. Absolutely and unequivocally foolish, but worth the shine in Cole’s black eyes.
“I can think of a friend who would not mind helpin’ you out,” Cole told him and picked up Ned’s bedroll from where it rested near the pile of dirt, smoke, and ripped canvas.
Ned’s heart soared with the possibilities of what would happen once they disappeared from view. He put his saddlebags across the shoulder and picked up the crate containing his spare clothes. He tipped his hat to Saul, who still eyed him as if he were a spark about to fall on his braid. “Sorry, I’m such a clumsy fuck.”
“You better stay away from my tent then,” Saul told him in a voice heavy as a mallet about to smash Ned’s head, but Cole guided him by the arm, away from the scene of the almost-crime, past the warmth of the fire. Ned could sense a dozen pairs of eyes stuck to his flesh but chose to acknowledge none of them, even when Judith and Mary broke into giggles as soon as he passed them.
So maybe he’d made himself look like a fool. No matter. It had given him the excuse he needed, and walking toward Cole’s tent meant something different this time. His skin itched, as if stung by a million tiny needles, and the warm glow of the lamp inside guided his steps to the utilitarian space where his life would change.
Cole stood at the entryway and held the flap of canvas serving as a door for Ned to pass. Nothing unusual. This wasn’t the first time they’d shared this wooden floor, but his eyes followed Ned’s every move, and his lips parted to reveal teeth and a bit of tongue. A shiver went down Ned’s spine when he stepped into the surprising warmth inside, leaving one foot in the dirt just beyond the floor, next to Cole’s toes. The warm scent of soap and a hint of ylang-ylang still clinging to Cole after his evening wash lured Ned close. He shut his eyes, breathing it in as if it were some refined perfume.
“I don’t know what this means, or how to do this with you,” he whispered as his heart broke into a gallop. “But I want to. I need to.”
His gaze swept over the sparse furnishings, past Cole’s cot and the tin box of nuts and raisins sitting on top of the chest. He didn’t dare move until the fabric at the entrance dropped behind him. Cole stayed away until he tied all the fastenings to keep the canvas doors shut for the night.
He pushed back his hair and faced Ned, his cheeks already tinted by a soft flush that looked out of place on his usually confident features. He licked his lips, hesitating, but then extinguished the lamp, sinking the interior in darkness. The glow of the main fire in the middle of the camp penetrated the canvas, but while Ned could see shadows looming beyond Cole’s tent, none of their companions could see them anymore.
The creak of the floorboards under Cole’s feet was like a gentle scratch behind Ned’s ear. He sensed the warmth of his body even before they touched. Fingers tapped his sides, then a cloud of fruit-scented breath heated his cheek, and then…. Cole’s lips pressed to his in a moment of absolute perfection. The warm hands moved to his back, pulling him closer to the hard body he’d thought about all evening. Now he could touch it. Rub it. Kiss it. And as long as they remained discreet, no consequences would follow.
Other than his soul burning in hell, if there was any truth to his family’s beliefs, but he’d resigned himself to that long ago. If Hell existed, then so be it. He would not turn away from the scraps of heaven down on earth.
He wasn’t drunk this time, nor plagued by indecision, which had deprived him of the full experience. Intense yet soft, the kiss sent phantom hands down his body, to cup his chest and groin in an invisible caress. Cole’s tongue tapped at the seam of his lips, so hot it might have burned the tender flesh if Ned hadn’t opened up to it. As it pushed in, tender and alive, Ned had to steady himself by grabbing Cole’s forearms. Every bit of reality seemed sharper. The aroma of burnt oil from the extinguished light, the coarse hairs tickling his palms, even the darkness of Cole’s eyes, which he could see with his own closed.