Read Online Bound Forever by Ava March - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ava March
Tags: BDSM LGBT Historical
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Vincent, he had not given it any thought. Had simply snuggled up to Vincent’s side and promptly fallen asleep. Now though…
Did Vincent harbor regrets? For all Vincent’s physical strength and for all his successes in his business dealings, the man had a fragile sense of self. He did not have Oliver’s rock-solid acceptance of who and what he was. He could have sworn Vincent seemed ready to fully relinquish control and take their relationship to the next step. But had Oliver pushed him too soon? Should he have continued to hold back? Should he have waited until Vincent broached the subject of his own accord?
His lover had a tendency to analyze every situation. To turn a matter over and over in his mind. But intimacy wasn’t a business deal. He truly feared if he allowed Vincent to overthink last night, Vincent would quickly turn even the tiniest smidge of a doubt into a full-blown regret. Given what hour Oliver could discern Vincent had left the house, the man already had far too much time with nothing but his thoughts.
He nudged the horse for more speed. The chestnut’s easy stride lengthened to a ground-covering gallop. The worries tumbled about in his head, growing stronger and stronger as he traveled across the property, every sense attuned for any sign of Vincent.
A sigh of relief expanded his chest at the sight of the black horse tied to a low branch of a tall tree near the pond. The stallion turned his head to look over his hip as Oliver slowed his horse to a walk. Ears pricked in attention, the animal nickered softly.
Oliver dismounted and tied his horse’s reins to a branch on the other side of the tree. Sitting on the bank of the pond, Vincent did not look over his shoulder as Oliver approached. A breeze ruffled a few strands of his neatly cropped, dark hair. Even with the greatcoat broadening his frame, Oliver could detect the slump hunching his usually straight shoulders.
All traces of the relief at finding Vincent vanished.
Hell, he had pushed Vincent for more than he’d been ready to give.
But he couldn’t take back last night. It had happened, and he could not change it. The best he could do was help Vincent to accept it. Hopefully—damnation, he hoped with all his heart—Vincent loved him enough not to allow his insecurities to come between them again. He could not go back to how it had once been—Vincent keeping him at arm’s distance, holding his heart back, far from Oliver. Vincent giving his body but not his love. He could not survive that sense of…isolation again.
Without a word, Oliver settled next to him. Vincent’s gaze was fixed straight ahead on the pale blue surface of the pond, yet Oliver had no doubt the man knew exactly who sat beside him.
His heart heavy in his chest, he waited a long moment. Waited patiently for Vincent to speak or at least acknowledge him in some fashion.
Vincent dropped his attention to his bent knee, which was drawn up, the other leg stretched out before him. The furrow pulling his brows deepened. Still though, not a word passed the tight line of his lips.
Dark smudges underscored his eyes, and stubble darkened his usually clean-shaven jaw. Instead of a crisp, neat Mathematical, he had tied his cravat in a simple knot. If Oliver wasn’t mistaken, Vincent had donned the same deep brown trousers Oliver had pulled down his strong legs less than twelve hours ago. He’d hazard a guess the coat, waistcoat, and shirt hidden beneath the black greatcoat were also the same ones the man had worn yesterday evening.
“Did you get much sleep last night?” he asked.
A long pause, and then Vincent shook his head, slow and reluctant. “Don’t believe I got any.”
The knot clutching his stomach tightened to a viselike hold. “You do know I love you?” At Vincent’s single nod, he asked, doing his best to keep the all-consuming worry from showing itself, “Did you at least enjoy last night?”
Vincent looked up from his study of his knee. “You
Did Vincent harbor regrets? For all Vincent’s physical strength and for all his successes in his business dealings, the man had a fragile sense of self. He did not have Oliver’s rock-solid acceptance of who and what he was. He could have sworn Vincent seemed ready to fully relinquish control and take their relationship to the next step. But had Oliver pushed him too soon? Should he have continued to hold back? Should he have waited until Vincent broached the subject of his own accord?
His lover had a tendency to analyze every situation. To turn a matter over and over in his mind. But intimacy wasn’t a business deal. He truly feared if he allowed Vincent to overthink last night, Vincent would quickly turn even the tiniest smidge of a doubt into a full-blown regret. Given what hour Oliver could discern Vincent had left the house, the man already had far too much time with nothing but his thoughts.
He nudged the horse for more speed. The chestnut’s easy stride lengthened to a ground-covering gallop. The worries tumbled about in his head, growing stronger and stronger as he traveled across the property, every sense attuned for any sign of Vincent.
A sigh of relief expanded his chest at the sight of the black horse tied to a low branch of a tall tree near the pond. The stallion turned his head to look over his hip as Oliver slowed his horse to a walk. Ears pricked in attention, the animal nickered softly.
Oliver dismounted and tied his horse’s reins to a branch on the other side of the tree. Sitting on the bank of the pond, Vincent did not look over his shoulder as Oliver approached. A breeze ruffled a few strands of his neatly cropped, dark hair. Even with the greatcoat broadening his frame, Oliver could detect the slump hunching his usually straight shoulders.
All traces of the relief at finding Vincent vanished.
Hell, he had pushed Vincent for more than he’d been ready to give.
But he couldn’t take back last night. It had happened, and he could not change it. The best he could do was help Vincent to accept it. Hopefully—damnation, he hoped with all his heart—Vincent loved him enough not to allow his insecurities to come between them again. He could not go back to how it had once been—Vincent keeping him at arm’s distance, holding his heart back, far from Oliver. Vincent giving his body but not his love. He could not survive that sense of…isolation again.
Without a word, Oliver settled next to him. Vincent’s gaze was fixed straight ahead on the pale blue surface of the pond, yet Oliver had no doubt the man knew exactly who sat beside him.
His heart heavy in his chest, he waited a long moment. Waited patiently for Vincent to speak or at least acknowledge him in some fashion.
Vincent dropped his attention to his bent knee, which was drawn up, the other leg stretched out before him. The furrow pulling his brows deepened. Still though, not a word passed the tight line of his lips.
Dark smudges underscored his eyes, and stubble darkened his usually clean-shaven jaw. Instead of a crisp, neat Mathematical, he had tied his cravat in a simple knot. If Oliver wasn’t mistaken, Vincent had donned the same deep brown trousers Oliver had pulled down his strong legs less than twelve hours ago. He’d hazard a guess the coat, waistcoat, and shirt hidden beneath the black greatcoat were also the same ones the man had worn yesterday evening.
“Did you get much sleep last night?” he asked.
A long pause, and then Vincent shook his head, slow and reluctant. “Don’t believe I got any.”
The knot clutching his stomach tightened to a viselike hold. “You do know I love you?” At Vincent’s single nod, he asked, doing his best to keep the all-consuming worry from showing itself, “Did you at least enjoy last night?”
Vincent looked up from his study of his knee. “You
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