Chapter Seven
PAULfollowed Devin up to the room, his heart thumping hard enough that the sound of music and people’s voices were drowned out. He felt as if he’d gone into autopilot mode, his mind buzzing with static as he tried to process what was happening.
They found the room easily, and Devin unlocked the door and flipped the light switch. Once they were both inside, Paul leaned against the closed door and stared at Devin. What had seemed like a fantastic idea on the beach when he was still under the influence of the bonfire, slow music, and rum punch seemed more unnerving now that he was faced with the reality of having sex—of baring himself to someone for the first time in over a year. Someone he hadn’t even known a full week yet.
He trusted Devin, and he did want this, but a frozen knot of fear was wedged in his chest, one that had formed the day Jack moved out and had been reinforced by the awful dates that followed. Devin seemed to believe he wouldn’t be affected by Paul’s scarred body and missing limb, but what if Devin had overestimated what he could handle? What if all of Devin’s reassurances turned hollow when Devin saw how disfigured he was? As much as he wanted to believe Devin would be different from Jack and the other men he’d dated, bitter experience kept him from it.
But while bolting from the room was an option, Paul didn’t want to give in to fear. The night might end as badly as his previous post-accident dates, but the small, lonely optimist in him was hopeful it wouldn’t, and so he stayed.
Paul licked his dry lips. “What now?”
Smiling, Devin stepped closer and stroked Paul’s cheek tenderly. There was heat in his dark eyes, but the smile curving his lips was gentle and understanding. “Now I make you feel good, and you make me feel good. Would you like me to strip for you? I have no problem baring myself if it will make you feel more comfortable.”
“I’d like that,” Paul said, nuzzling his cheek against Devin’s warm palm. Devin seemed willing to go slow, and Paul was grateful.
“All right.” Devin leaned in to claim a brief, soft kiss, then stepped back. “Why don’t you go sit on the bed?” He chuckled. “Well, they managed to cram a king-size in the room. Good for us, as tall as we both are, eh?”
Paul glanced around the room as he moved to the bed, which was covered by a colorful quilt, and he snorted quietly when he recognized the wedding ring pattern on it. The furniture was minimal—a bed, nightstand, and a dresser—but the room was spotless, and the decor was enhanced by a matched pair of paintings that depicted scenes from the market he and Devin had visited.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and then held up the bag Cass had given him. “Should we open this now, do you think?”
“If you like,” Devin replied. He took off his shoes, then bent to place them neatly near the door. “If I know Cass, it’s probably useful.”
The bag itself was plain white, and its contents were obscured by red tissue paper. Paul pulled it out and wadded it up, and he decided to show off a little by tossing it into the small trash can by the dresser.
“And now you see why I was on the varsity team,” he said when the ball of tissue paper landed in the trash can.
“Bravo! That’s your first score of the night, but it certainly won’t be your last.”
Paul chuckled as he turned his attention back to the bag and pulled out its contents. “We have a couple of toothbrushes, toothpaste, and….” He held up a small box of condoms and a travel-sized bottle of lube. “Okay, you weren’t kidding when you said it would be useful.”
“She’s a doll,” Devin said, grinning widely. He fingered the first button on his tropical shirt. “Are you ready for a show? And I don’t mean juggling beer bottles.”
Paul put the bag and its contents on the nightstand. “Go ahead, show me yourotherskills,” he said, leaning back on his hands. The mattress was firm and supportive, so even though the bed might provide a challenge for two tall men, it wouldn’t be uncomfortable.
“Well,someof my other skills,” Devin replied with a wink. The steel drums were audible from the window that faced the beach, and Devin easily caught the island rhythm. He rolled his hips as he unfastened the shirt buttons, going slowly and teasing Paul with glimpses of bronze skin. When he’d dealt with the final button, he shrugged off the shirt, baring his sleekly toned upper body to Paul’s gaze.
Paul drank in the sight of Devin’s lean body and smooth skin. He could see the wiry strength in Devin’s arms and the enticing ripple of muscle in Devin’s abdomen. He wanted to touch, but he wanted to see more as well, so he held still and swallowed against the dryness in his mouth.
“Best show of the cruise so far,” he said huskily.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Devin said, smiling wickedly. He had the barest hint of a treasure trail that disappeared into his white cotton pants, and as he rolled his hips, he unfastened the top button, then slowly lowered the zipper. “You’ve got a naughty streak. I like that.”
Paul thought about some of the antics he’d gotten up to with Jack and other lovers before the accident, and he realized he missed that side of himself, the one that wasn’t always serious and focused on work.
“I used to,” he said. “A pretty wide one, actually.”
“Feel free to be as naughty with me as you’d like,” Devin said. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants, then lowered them. He was still moving his hips in time to the music, and he moved closer to Paul as he eased the pants down, until they fell into a pool at his feet. Now Devin was clad only in stretchy gray boxer briefs that molded to his hips and hid nothing of his arousal. His long legs were as tanned and toned as his chest, and he turned, presenting his backside to Paul and smiling playfully over his shoulder. His long, dark hair fell almost to his waist, but as he looked at Paul, Paul could see a tattoo on Devin’s left shoulder. A realistic raven was depicted in flight, wings spread and talons out as though it were about to land or perhaps grab at prey.
Paul tore himself away from ogling Devin’s ass to inspect the tattoo. He’d always been fascinated by body art, even though he hadn’t gotten any tattoos or piercings himself. He’d thought about it, but his father didn’t think it was professional, especially for a CEO.
“Is there a story behind your tattoo?”
“Raven is my spirit animal,” Devin said. “My mother said she saw flock of them on the way to the hospital the day I was born. I’ve always liked them, so that’s what I chose when I decided to get a tattoo for my twenty-first birthday.”
“The detail is amazing,” Paul said. “I like it. It suits you.”
“Thank you.” Devin smiled, then turned back around. “Should I keep going? Or would you like to unwrap my package yourself?”
