Chapter seventeen
Kit
Thesunsinksintomy very bones. It feels delicious. Like I’m solar powered and this is recharging me. It’s more than just warmth, it’s something indescribable. I stretch like a cat and glance over at Mackenzie. Even with his dark shades on I can tell he is scowling.
“Come on,” I tease. “Even you can’t be grumpy about being paid to sunbathe on a yacht so paparazzi can get some juicy shots.”
His scowl deepens. “Do I look like I sunbathe?”
Happy for the excuse, my gaze roams all over his nearly naked body. It’s only a pair of pale blue shorts that interrupts my view. His body is glorious perfection, but whiter than cream.
“You are very pale,” I say. “Like a delicate porcelain doll.”
“Fuck you,” he snarls and flips over onto his stomach. “My Serbian ancestors would kick your ass for your disrespect.”
I’m pretty certain Miranda and Tennessee Jones aren’t of Serbian heritage. She frequently boasts about her Irish roots and he proudly declares himself as Wales’s hottest export.
“You’re adopted?” I ask in surprise.
His shoulders tense and I know I’ve accidentally strayed into uncomfortable territory. He lifts his head to look at me. I can’t see his eyes through his dark shades but he looks really worried.
“Don’t tell anyone,” he whispers.
I shrug and grin. “Sure,” I agree easily, like it’s no big deal, because it shouldn’t be. Being adopted is hardly scandalous. I can’t fathom why it is a secret, but it’s none of my business.
I scoop up the bottle of sun cream that is beside me. “Lie back down.”
“Why?” he asks, looking alarmed.
“Because I’m going to cream your back. It will look great for the cameras,” I tell him.
He flushes and bites his bottom lip before quickly burying his face in his crossed arms. His reaction makes me feel tingly all over and I can’t stop grinning as I straddle him and seat myself on his pert ass. He makes a noise of surprise but doesn’t tell me to get off, so I continue.
Objectively, I know there is a host of photographers on the shore, snapping away with their powerful zoom lenses. But I can’t hear them, can’t sense their presence. The yacht crew are out of sight, and it feels like I’m alone with Mackenzie. Just floating on the blue sea that reminds me of his eyes.
I squirt a big dollop of sun cream onto my hand, in the hopes it will warm up a little before I put it on his back. Then I’m running my hands over his naked skin. It feels surreal. Like a dream. Most of me can’t believe this is actually happening. The man who wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t talk to me, is lying beneath me while I run my hands all over his body. It’s not quite how I want to do it, but it’s also far more than I ever thought I’d get.
He makes a happy noise and relaxes under my caress. He loves being touched. I adore that about him. He is all prickly and standoffish, but get your hands on him and he turns into a teddy bear. Memories of the way he melted into my arms when I hugged him in his dressing room, flood my mind. Beneath me Mackenzie makes another soft sound of pleasure. My cock takes notice and I silently curse it. I don’t want to have to abort this to hide a boner.
“Nobody knows I’m adopted!” he gasps suddenly.
I grin. I’m on to him, I can tell by the very subtle way he is squirming beneath me. He is getting hard too and he is desperate for any sort of distraction. It doesn’t mean anything, I have a cock too, so I know how easily excitable they can be. But that’s not going to stop me exploiting the situation. I’m sure my expression is pure menace as I relentlessly continue to glide my hands over his back, turning applying sun cream into a massage.
“They went toddler shopping in Serbian villages,” he says and it works. It kills my semi faster than a bucket of ice water would.
“So they could choose the prettiest one?” I say, trying to keep things lighthearted.
He huffs in displeasure and I can’t tell if it’s directed at my flippant comment or at his parents, “Something like that,” he says.
“Why the secrecy, they could have just claimed to have got you from a legitimate orphanage?” I ask as I resume massaging him. I want him to feel better.
“The original Mackenzie Jones is in a home for adults with severe learning disabilities,” he says quietly.
My hands freeze in place. “What the fuck!” I exclaim and then wince, it’s not the most sensitive response. Hastily I try to make amends. “So their bio son is disabled and they just… replaced him? Even gave you his name?”
“Yep,” drawls Mackenzie before every muscle in his back goes rigid. “I don’t know why I am telling you this!” He sounds on the verge of a panic attack.
“Hey it’s okay, I won’t breathe a word to anyone, I promise.”
