Let Your Heart Decide

PROLOGUE

HIS EYES were swollen and rimmed in red. We’d both cried too much today, comforting each other in our grief, holding on tight, not wanting to move away. Now he looked as though he’d hardly slept for days, which was probably true. I hadn’t either.

He’d changed from the dark suit and black tie into his favourite faded green T-shirt and black sweatpants. As always he looked gorgeous, breathtaking, even in his anguish. Despite our shared sorrow, I let my gaze dip to the contour of his cock. I needed him tonight, more so than on any other night. All I wanted to do was hold him, comfort him, penetrate his body, and join us as one.

How could I think of having sex at such a sad time? I wanted to forget the pain, to be lost in his scent, his body, his mouth. Finally claim him as my own, my friend, my lover.

Keeping that close connection between us, I smoothed down his hair, rumpled by the chill wind and rain from the unforgiving graveyard. I slid my fingers down his neck, stroking softly, resting my hand on his shoulder.

He stepped back and his eyes met mine, questioning. I held out my arms for him. Without hesitation he sank into my embrace. No words were required. The delicious moment was charged with something electric. The time felt right. We’d waited long enough.

His hands, warm and grasping under my shirt, were rough and needy against my skin. His hunger matched my desperation. His mouth sought mine; our lips and tongues merged in passion and raw need.

Yes was all he gasped, and with that verbal consent, I clasped his hand and led him to the bedroom.

Once inside, our wild kissing resumed. We tugged at clothing until we were naked, and crashing onto the bed, we tangled together. Years of restraint on my part faded into the night. With each bite and each scrape of his nails over my skin, the more turned on I became. Desire ripped through me, its quenching my only goal. We devoured each other, seeking to stave off that gnawing hunger.

Grasping, kissing, sucking on skin and nipples, we consumed the other as if we’d never get this chance again. Taking what we could in the here and now, we seized arms and hips and thighs, with no thought to the bruises tomorrow would bring.

In haste I prepared him; his gasps and moans coaxed me to ravage him. And the moment I sank into his delicious, slick heat, my vision blurred. For years I’d yearned for his surrender, this union, and the reality surpassed my wildest dreams.

Joined as one, we rocked and humped, still kissing and squeezing. Climax came hard and fast for us both, with intense cries and groans muffled against moist, sweat-slick skin. Our deep breaths mingled into slower kisses and a tender concluding embrace.

His eyes remained closed. Tears seeped from under his eyelashes and down his face.

Look at me, I asked, my heart fluttering from fear now rather than desire.

One look at his dull blue eyes confirmed the truth I already felt in my bones.

I’m sorry, he said, blinking away his tears.

I wiped away the moisture from his cheek. No. Don’t ever say you’re sorry for what we just shared.

He took in a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes turning from mine. We can’t ever do this again.

And with that soul-destroying and heart-wrenching statement, Rhys made his way to the bathroom and out of my life.

Chapter One

He takes my hand and draws it to his lips.

He kisses each knuckle in turn,

and a smile graces his mouth, soft and gentle.

A lover’s touch, so tender,

so full of love it makes my heart soar.

THE DOORBELL chimed, twice.

Damn!

The last thing I needed was to be interrupted this afternoon. As much as I’d like to catch up with old friends, I didn’t have time for visitors today. Only half my gear had been unpacked and stowed away in its new home. I’d hoped to get the rest of it done and dusted before the day was out, since Jake was dropping by the following day.

I dumped my paired socks into the top drawer of the dresser and peeked out of my bedroom window. No car was visible in the street below, so it couldn’t be Jake arriving a day early. No, my brother definitely said he’d stop by Saturday morning to check out my new house.

The bell rang again, almost impatiently this time.

Shit! This had better be important.

I wasn’t normally this wound-up and unsociable, but I wanted to get my house looking exactly right before anyone saw it. Jake in particular. I hadn’t seen him for the best part of two years and I wanted our first meeting to be… well, relaxed, without me stressed out and worried about how each room appeared.

I picked up my glasses from the bedside table and slid them on, then made my way down the stairs, passing five large unpacked boxes still stacked in the hallway.

The outline of a solitary figure appeared through the frosted glass of the front door. Male, I’d say, and short. Could be a kid.

I opened the stiff door with a deliberate jerk. Yes?

A man, probably in his mid-to-late thirties, stood before me. Short and slim, wearing long khaki shorts and sandals—no socks, thank God. His tanned hairy legs drew my attention for a few seconds too long. He held a plastic-wrapped plate in his hands with what seemed like cake on it. He looked pleasant enough, good-looking in an old-fashioned sort of way, and smiling a toothy grin not far from my face.

Hello, I’m from next door.

He inclined his head to the left. There was only one house next to mine, as my house was situated at the end of the cul-de-sac on a corner plot, so I gathered he was my neighbour.

I’ve baked you a cake as a welcome gift. He offered me the plate. Hope you like lemon drizzle cake. He smiled again and his eyes twinkled. Beads of perspiration dotted along his forehead. I took the plate from him before the moisture had a chance to run down his face and drip onto my cake. It was a warm and sunny June day, the first we’d seen in the UK for over a week. Typical! The day I moved house the temperature skyrocketed. Sweat dampened my pits and trickled down my back. I’d been shifting heavy boxes and stuff around for hours.

Mmm… looks great. Thanks. I breathed in and got a strong whiff of sweet citrus—from the cake rather than him, I hoped. That’s very kind of you.

I’m Philip, he said, edging closer. And you’re very welcome.

Hi, I’m Rhys, I said, standing firm. As nice as he appeared, I was reluctant to budge and let a stranger enter my personal domain.

How are you settling in? Philip peered around my shoulder and upper arm, a tricky task since I was a good six inches taller than him. I would have offered to help you unload your car earlier, but I was mixing the cake at the time.

I made the mistake of turning and glancing at my cluttered hallway.

Ugh… and I’ve almost finished unpacking my clothes in the bedroom. Got the living room and study to sort out next, and then I’ll be done for today. Brand-new furniture for the living room and my bedroom had been delivered that morning, and I’d worked nonstop putting my belongings away after the van left. I deserved a break and some refreshment, so I relented.

Would you like a cuppa and a slice of your cake?

That would be nice, thank you. His blue-grey eyes shone as he beamed at me. He paused, suddenly appearing cautious. You don’t own a dog, do you?

No. No pets here. I led the way to my clean, practically bare kitchen and put the kettle on. So, Philip, have you lived in the close for long?

About three years. Philip struggled to climb onto one of the bar stools nestled beside the kitchen counter I planned to use as a breakfast bar. His short, furry legs wriggled beneath him as he got himself comfy. I stifled a laugh. He was a cute guy and I didn’t want to offend him. We bought the house when it was new. Actually, we were the first people to move in to the close.

We? I washed my hands and dried them.

Yes, my mum and me. We went halves as we couldn’t afford anything decent by ourselves.

Interesting… a mummy’s boy and gay, possibly. Not my type, but you never know. He seemed pleasant enough.

Philip smiled faintly, not embarrassed at all. The more I took in his features, the younger he appeared. He could even have been in his late twenties, the same age as me. Short, light brown hair, slightly receding, had made me think he was older; kind eyes, and a genuine smile. Nice plump lips too.

She works at the Hall just up the way. He directed his arm towards the back of the kitchen as if pointing the way.

Upington Hall? I vaguely recalled a historic house in the area. Jake and I probably visited it many years ago.

Yeah. I help out as a volunteer some weekends and I’m a Friend of St. Michael’s Church. I work for the council during the week. He unwrapped the cover from the plate. In the accounts department.

I found a knife and cut into the lemon cake, which actually looked very good, and passed him a piece on a small plate. Is the Hall open to visitors?

Yeah, every day from ten ’til five. You interested in history?

He took a bite and hummed appreciatively. I did the same. The cake tasted moist and lemony, very nice indeed, and such a thoughtful gesture.

Yeah, I am, actually. I like hiking and visiting places with historic connections. I used to do that a lot with my brother when we were younger. There’s only two years between us, so we often did things together. Not so much recently, though, while I was living in London. I tended to visit the theatre or galleries there. I left my piece of cake and went over to the counter to make us tea in my new mugs. Sugar?

Philip shook his head. No, thanks, just milk for me. Tell you what, I’ll bring you over a few visitors’ passes, so you can take a look around for free.

That would be great. And very neighbourly of him. I passed him his tea.

So, where did you live before you moved to London? Are you local? Philip blew on his drink and took a loud slurp of it.

Originally I’m from around here. I used to live on the other side of town with my mother and brother, plus my father before they divorced. I moved to London two years ago when I changed jobs. Now I’m back again. I’m starting a new job a week on Monday. That was vague enough. No mention of Mum’s illness and passing. Or my ex in London.

What do you do? He cradled the mug in his lap, on a nicely formed bulge. He appeared perfectly proportioned with attractively muscled arms and legs.

C.A.D. I paused, waiting to see if he knew what the hell I meant. Not everyone did. I took pity on him and added, Computer-Aided Design for a building services company. He still looked rather blank. I design where the pipes and cables go in buildings, but it’s done via a computer screen these days.

Philip nodded, pursing his lips as if he had some sort of clue. Yeah, I have a friend who used to do something like that. He designed the structures for oil rigs and water treatment works. You enjoy it?

It’s okay, but it can be tedious unless I have some input into the design. If I can get creative, then it’s interesting. I smiled. Luckily I have the technical and engineering background. I worked on the design of a new hospital last year.

Philip’s gaze drifted to the back door leading out to the garden. I could bore for England when I started talking about work.

You like gardening? He slipped off the bar stool to get a better look at the garden. He could probably view much of it from his own upstairs windows, but at ground level it would have a different perspective.

Not really. My brother’s the gardener. He does it for a living, so he’s bound to have some inspirational ideas. I’m hoping to persuade him to give me a hand, though.

That’s if we’re on speaking terms by the end of tomorrow.

That’s handy. Mum and I aren’t enthusiastic gardeners. We might have to make use of your brother.

I unlocked the door and we stepped out onto the patio that ran the full width of the house. We stood there taking stock of what needed doing. It was dull: mostly scruffy, weed-filled grass with the odd small tree or shrub dotted along the perimeter. Plain and boring. On one side a six-foot fence separated my property from Philip’s.

The garden was south-facing, so the patio was drenched in glorious sunlight. It truly was a scorching day and I couldn’t wait to take a rest out there. My newly purchased garden chairs and table beckoned to me, but I resisted the temptation. If we sat down, I might not get up for hours. Especially if we cracked open some beers and Philip and I became embroiled in conversation.

Instead we ambled to the sandstone wall at the far end of the garden and peered into the large woodland area beyond. A cool breeze swept through the dank shade, chilling my bare arms. The smell of wet earth and moss hit me.

The land is all part of the Upington estate, but the public has access to it. Philip pointed over the wall to the right. If you follow that narrow path over there, it will eventually take you down to the lake. The wider path that forks to the right opens onto a bridleway that goes through a meadow, and from there you can join the track that leads to the driveway up to the Hall.

The wood was densely planted, with dappled shade breaking up the gloom here and there, but no view through to what lay beyond. Is it far?

No, it’s only about half a mile. Don’t try it at night, though. The ground’s uneven and littered with massive roots and stumps.

The last thing I intended was to traipse through a spooky-looking wood at night. I was more concerned about my privacy.

But if it’s open to the public, anyone can cut through and peer into my garden? The wall was only about four feet high, easily scaled by a would-be thief, so I might have to put up a higher fence on my side. Shame, since the stone wall was an attractive feature that made the garden more interesting and rustic.

Yes, but to be honest, I hardly ever see anyone wandering around this part of the wood. People tend to stick to the gardens or the bridleways closer to the Hall.

I turned around and faced towards the rear of my house, which stood gleaming in full sun. I shivered. Icy tendrils crept slowly up my back. I pulled away from the wall and headed for the warmth of the patio.

Don’t say you’re feeling it too? Philip called after me.

I halted abruptly. He bumped into me and I stepped back onto his foot.

Unfff… sorry. He patted me on the shoulder blade where his head had bounced against me.

Sorry. I turned to face him. What do you mean? Feeling what?

You shivered and looked weird. The couple who lived here before you moved out months ago. The woman claimed there was something creepy about the woods. Their dog was always howling, and the baby never settled and was constantly crying. No one else was interested in buying the house, apart from you.

I frowned. I was just cold standing in the shade.

That’s all I need, a haunted fucking house.

I huffed. It’s a newish house, so how can it be spooky?

Philip chortled, his eyes bright. These houses were built over the remains of the medieval village of Upington. Don’t worry, though, it’s been long gone for many centuries. There wasn’t any archaeological evidence left, as such, but you never know what was disturbed when they started building.

I waited to see if he was winding me up. You think ghosts roam around my garden and the woods?

Philip laughed. He made an eerie Twilight Zone–type noise and wriggled his fingers. Nah, I don’t believe in ghosts. But it makes a gripping story. I think the woman was suffering from postnatal depression or something, and the dog and the baby picked up on it. The history of the area is fascinating enough without ghost stories. I can tell you all I know, if you like. I’m a member of the local history society, and we’ve done a lot of research between us.

The warmth on the patio made a distinct contrast to the pervasive chill I’d experienced by the wall. How could there be such a vast temperature difference?

Tell you what, you can tell me all about the history of this place another day. I need to get on and finish my unpacking. I didn’t mean to be rude, and fortunately he took my kicking him out with good grace.

Sure, I’ll bake another cake and give you the rundown on the area. Just let me know when you’re free.

Will do. And thanks for the cake today. It’s much appreciated. I pushed back my glasses to the bridge of my nose.

And with that, Philip trotted off home, leaving me to watch his hairy legs as he dodged the boxes in the hallway on his way to the front door.

Chapter Two

With eager tongue and lips,

he plunders my willing mouth, claiming me as his own.

Our desperate kiss is passionate,

proclaiming more than words can impart.

THANK GOD that’s all done.

With a sigh of tired relief, I eased down onto one of my new patio chairs. I’d unpacked all my worldly possessions, and now, at half past nine in the evening, I finally allowed myself to stop and relax.

It was surprising how much junk I’d accumulated over my twenty-nine years of mundane existence. Good job I’d thrown out or given away much of the crap I didn’t need before I moved in here.

A mug of tea and a massive slice of Philip’s lemon drizzle cake sat before me on the table. I dragged another chair over and propped my aching legs on its seat. Fuck, I was knackered and ready to drop. In fact, my bed was already calling to me. Fortunately I’d had the foresight to make up the bed first thing this afternoon. I didn’t have the energy to rustle up a meal—not even something as quick as an omelette.

Not that I had much of an appetite these days. I craved cake and other sweet-tasting food. Easy food but lots of empty calories. With my now ex-boyfriend—Myles the fitness freak—out of the picture, I could pig out on naughty food anytime. The arsehole never let me buy desserts, saying they were bad for my waistline and health. In the end I’d resorted to sneaking in treats at work or when he wasn’t around, and I ended up feeling guilty for hiding the truth from him. Well, I didn’t have that problem anymore. I was my own man now and could eat whatever I liked.

Picking up the lemon cake, I sniffed its sugary goodness and consumed the wedge in four mouthfuls. Mmm… that felt marvellous on my tongue. I relished the sensation as it slipped down my gullet and into my stomach. Delicious. I closed my eyes and appreciated the lingering taste on my lips, licking the lemony syrup off my fingers one by one to prolong the pleasure.

The hum of traffic from the motorway in the distance caught my attention. I hadn’t heard it until then. It must be a good two miles away, but the slight evening breeze carried the sound over the open fields. I listened more intently. On another nearby road, one or two cars and a motorbike passed. A door slammed,