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Bloody Hell!
Robert took one more in a series of long, calming breaths. He stared at the doorway through which Luis had just vanished. What had he -– no, what had the two of them -- just done?
He glanced accusingly around the darkened kitchen. Perhaps the problem was that this place was so unlike the office, the public spaces, in which they generally encountered one another. This room looked so homely, so domestic, so... safe. Even without the help of the candle which the infuriating man had taken with him, with just the moonlight glimmering rather feebly (and unromantically, he reminded himself sternly) through the window, he could discern the dim shapes of the carefully swept hearth, the various cupboards with their meticulously arranged freights of dishes and storage cannisters, the no doubt well-scrubbed kitchen table...The otherwise innocuous table with its bowl of chocolate sauce, the one from which Luis had been enjoying the stolen taste. How many times had Robert done much the same thing when he was a boy home from school on his holidays? He remembered the thrill of sneaking downstairs –- being careful, of course, to avoid the tell-tale squeaking treads and not to disturb the old dog slumbering by the fire -– for some forgivably but technically forbidden midnight treat. Such maneuvers had probably taught him as much as a dozen senior military intelligence officers.
He had been caught off-guard. There was no excuse for that, even if Luis had hardly looked the wily, dangerous colonel at that moment, either, standing there in his robe and bare feet, guilty surprise shifting into annoyance and then mischief as he sucked the chocolate off his finger so provocatively. Robert frowned. It had been provocation, hadn't it? And he should have been expecting it. That had been what he had come for, after all: another round in their seemingly endless game of bait and tease and back-off. Except this time the game had gone a little further than perhaps either of them quite intended.
Robert had been bored and restless. Despite what Luis said, though, he hadn't been lurking. Not really. He had just somehow found himself outside the colonel's residence – after all, Santa Elena wasn't that large; it must have been pure accident – and seen the candle moving in the darkened room. He had been curious, and when he had seen Luis.... Well, anyway, he was fairly sure it had been Luis who had challenged him. He had merely responded with a little light innuendo. And the odd seductive pose or two. Though the remark about the best part of love might have been a bit over the top, he supposed.
He certainly hadn't expected Luis to succumb to his invitation, his trap. Victory couldn't be that easy, even if they had both been drinking.
Robert licked his lower lip. He could still taste the chocolate and brandy headiness of their kiss. It had taken all his self-discipline and all the training of his previous profession to resist surrendering to Luis' invading tongue, to the press of his strong, taut body. When Luis had drawn back, laying a final gentle caress on his lips, Robert had very nearly grabbed the man and shoved him against the wall. Luis couldn't have been wearing much beneath that robe. In his imagination Robert fumbled with the cord belt and pushed it open. He dropped his head forward to kiss, to suckle the pale skin revealed by the nightshirt's open collar. The skin was warm beneath his mouth and he bunched the fine, cool linen in his hands, and he was ripping it as he sank to his knees, and....
Steady on.
Robert drew yet another deep breath and reminded himself that he was still standing in the man's kitchen. But what if he were to follow Luis through the door, through the silent house? Was Luis waiting for him to do just that? Waiting to change the game entirely?
Waiting for Robert to make one damning, final mistake....
He had to pull himself together, to consider his options carefully. He could hardly afford another miscalculation this evening. They were in the endgame now, where victory goes to the player who makes the next-to-last mistake.