Chapter 297
Jayden had never been to Ethan’s London house before, but thankfully it was small and all the doors were wide open in deference to the bustle. A master bedroom had a bed covered in ironed suit jackets and waistcoats; the bathroom was occupied by a lanky girl whom Jayden very vaguely remembered as one of Ethan’s cousins, applying her makeup. The third room had a closed door, and when Jayden knocked, a deep and familiar voice called for him to come in.
Jayden swallowed at the sight of him and closed the door behind him with a sharp snap.
“Hey,” Darren said, buttoning the collar and smoothing it down. He’d just finished getting dressed, by the looks of things, and Jayden’s mouth went dry as Darren smoothed down the shirt, spread his hands slightly either side of his hips and said, “Well?”
“Um,” Jayden replied.
“What do you think?” Darren prompted.
Jayden opened his soundless mouth, and dropped the plate unceremoniously on the dresser. What did he think? Darren was wearing a loose white shirt, buttoned to the throat, with long sleeves and silver cufflinks, tucked in and held tight to his wide-shouldered body with a pale grey waistcoat, a matching grey tie disappearing into it at the breastbone. The trousers were two shades darker, perfectly tailored to those narrow hips and lean legs, and a suit jacket was slung onto the bed, obviously ready to complete the picture. The stunning, sexy, completely untouchable picture of handsome and messy and…and…
Jayden viciously thought that Darren had been right. This wedding—or rather, Darren at this wedding—was going to kill him.
“I think you look amazing,” he croaked.
Darren’s mouth twisted in a smile. “Yeah?”
“Oh shut up,” Jayden said and seized his head in both hands to kiss him soundly. Darren made a pleased sound, cupping Jayden’s elbows and pushing against him until Jayden’s back hit the door and Darren’s tongue was relearning his tonsils. He was fucking gorgeous, absolutely fucking stunning, and Jayden had had no idea he could still tidy up so beautifully, and he was going to get under that suit and…
“Oi!” Paul thumped the door from the other side. “Stop shagging and get a move on, before the pussy bails on the whole damn thing! You got half an hour!”
Darren broke away and laughed breathlessly; Jayden kept hold of his head and began to kiss his neck hopefully. They’d only need ten minutes. Maybe five, if he offered to blow him instead? Darren was really easy to bribe, he wouldn’t say no to that, they could…
“I promise,” Darren whispered, low and husky and so fucking sexy that Jayden was already half-hard in his trousers, “that you can mess up this look all you like after the whole shebang…” he said bang! the little voice in Jayden’s head shrieked encouragingly, “…but later, okay?”
“Promise?” Jayden murmured, biting his earlobe and running his hands down to Darren’s arse. Oh dear God, there was no slack whatsoever in those trousers, Darren wanted this just as much as he did, and…“I don’t think I can last a whole wedding.”
“The reception’s in a hotel and I have our room key already before I get drunk,” Darren said enticingly. Paul hit the door again on his way back downstairs, and Jayden groaned, blood throbbing in his crotch.
“Fine,” he whispered. “But only until after the photographs. Then I get to take the whole suit back off again.”
“Fine by me,” Darren murmured lowly, rubbing one last deep, hungry kiss into the seams of Jayden’s mouth and around his teeth before stepping back. His pupils were huge, the green almost completely obscured. “You need to get changed.”
Jayden slung his overnight bag on the bed and stripped as enticingly as possible, Darren’s eyes tracking his every movement. He had only half-buttoned his shirt before Darren’s willpower buckled and those large hands unceremoniously pulled Jayden’s boxers to his ankles. Jayden groaned headily when Darren’s mouth sealed around him, unbelievably hot and almost painful with how fucking turned on he was, and the image of Darren on his knees in that suit and the sheer frustration in not having had proper, full-on, real sex in months meant it took very little and was over almost embarrassingly quickly.
Jayden covered his ears and groaned again when Darren swallowed—because he didn’t, he pulled off before or spat, he never swallowed it—and knew they were both in for a rough night when his dick twitched at the sound anyway. “That’s so stupidly hot,” he whispered hoarsely at the ceiling.
“You are, yeah,” Darren agreed, standing again. “But now you have eight minutes, and the door isn’t locked.”
Jayden flushed brilliantly at the idea someone might have walked in—or heard him, Jesus!—and scrambled to pull up his boxers and find his trousers.