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Stephen snuggled closer, rubbing his face on Crane’s chest, trembling slightly. “Oh God, I’m such a coward. Don’t let me go.” “I don’t intend to,” Crane said, caressing the curly hair,
I seem to be peculiarly inept at understanding your needs when we’re not in bed, and I know I’ve got a hell of a lot wrong to date, but...don’t run away from me, please. Don’t disappear.”
My life changed four months
ago, and I utterly failed to understand that until just recently, and therefore...I may have omitted to tell you that I love you.” He took a breath. “That’s all.”
“Oh God,” he said at last. “I’m pathetic. You know perfectly well that I’m all yours, Lucien, or you should. I’ve got your tattoo, for heaven’s sake. I’m marked for life.
Oh, hellfire. I love you, Lucien. It wouldn’t be so nerve-wracking if I didn’t.”
“When this is over, could we go away? Your shooting place again?” “As soon as you like. How long can you take?” “How long do you want?” “The rest of your life.” Crane watched Stephen’s eyes widen. “For now, how about a fortnight?” “Done,” Stephen said. “And...done.” “God, sweet boy. I love you. I think I need to say that quite a lot.” “Any time.” Stephen’s voice was a little shaky, his eyes bright.
