He smiles and steps back, adjusting the towel around his waist. “Zeb, we’re both adults, and it’s time you realised it. We’re both perfectly capable of sharing a bed without leaping on each other the moment the lights go out.”

I swallow hard. Speak for yourself, I think. It’s getting increasingly difficult for me to keep my hands off you. Instead of saying the words, I send my face into its customary polite mask. It’s stood me well over the years, covering up my occasional shyness and the resulting awkwardness. I found a long time ago that people largely accept the face you show to the world. I’m not sure it works with him, however, because his eyes sharpen as if he’s looking inside me, and those eyes turn kind and warm.

“If this is a problem,” he says slowly, all mirth gone, “I’ll get another room. Fuck everyone else’s opinion. You’re the important one in this situation, not any of those probably snotty bastards.”

I blink. I don’t think I’ve ever heard that before.

“Oh, there’s no need,” I say softly, incredibly touched by the passion and heat in his voice. It’s odd to have someone so focused on me and my feelings. I’m not entirely sure it’s comfortable though, so I stand up. “Never mind,” I say briskly. “We’ll work it out. Thank you for being so patient.”

His eyes sharpen as he stares at me, then, after a long second, they soften again. “You don’t need to thank me for being patient. Don’t ever thank me for that.”

I study him, wondering what he’s thinking, before realising that I probably look like an idiot at the moment. “Never mind,” I say quickly. “I’m going to shower and change for dinner.” I look at his current outfit. “You’ll need to wear your suit.”

“Never crossed my mind not to,” he says glumly. “I’d probably wear court robes if I had any.”

I shake my head. “Well, I’m just going to shower,” I say again, slightly awkwardly, compounding my idiocy by pointing at the bathroom door as if he doesn’t know where it is. His mouth twitches, and he stands up and stretches.

I watch all the muscles move languorously under his skin, sliding like silk, and feel my cock thicken. “You do that,” he says throatily.

Once I’m inside the bathroom, I lean back against the door and shake my head, groaning silently. Against my will, my hand strays down to my cock which is pushing impudently against my jeans. I suppress a moan but can’t help stroking along its length, the rough denim catching my nerves and making them sparkle.