I pat the pockets of my cut-offs. “Not on me, no. I must have left him behind somewhere.”
“How careless of you. Hop in then.”
I lower myself carefully into the hammock until I’m resting on top of him. He’s sun hot underneath me and smells of sun cream. “Well, hello,” I drawl, looking down into his grey eyes. They’re bright with the ever-present love. “Fancy meeting you here.”
He drags me down into a kiss, which is escalating nicely until Bernard attempts to climb in with us.
“No,” Reuben says. “Oh no, you stupid dog.”
Bernard’s mouth stretches wide in a doggy grin and he redoubles his attempts to climb aboard. We both shout as the hammock sways wildly and promptly dumps us on the grass.
“Silly boy,” Reuben says. “Ouch, Xavi. That’s my fucking throat.”
“Sorry. I was aiming for your jawbone.”
He laughs, but it turns to a low moan as I kiss him. When I pull back, we’re flushed and panting.
“Where’s Olivier?” I ask, my hand already in his shorts and moving towards his cock.
He grabs my hand, and I pout as he pushes it away. “He’s upstairs.”
I pout. “Cock-blocking villa guests.”
“Oh dear, I haven’t noticed you being particularly restrained. You shouted so loud last night, I thought we’d have the neighbour round.”
“That would have been lovely. We could have had another of her lectures on keeping the pool tidy and villa etiquette.” He laughs. “Anyway, you shouldn’t be so good at sex, and then I wouldn’t have to be so loud.”
“I am the sex master.”
“Come on, master. Let’s get back in the hammock.”
I toss the ball to Bernard, and while he’s occupied, we climb back into the hammock, settling with me half on top of him.We lie quietly for a while, listening to the lapping of the pool water and the distant sound of music coming from the house. It’s French and has a sweet, sexy vibe.
“I like it here,” I finally say, and he hums in agreement, his finger twirling a strand of my hair.
“Me too.”
“How was Frederik?” I ask, coming up on my elbow and looking into his face. I love this face above all others, and I run my fingers over his sharp cheekbones. There are a few more lines around those pretty eyes and a strand or two of grey in his black hair. He grumbles about them, but I love them. They’re from laughter, and I don’t want him to ever stop doing that. He laughs more easily now, the sound familiar around our home.
He shrugs. “It was fine.”
Frederik is his therapist. Reuben had a bit of a trial-and-error process with therapists at first, but then I’d heard of Frederik through someone at the shop. He’d been a rockstar in Germany in the nineties and had retrained as a therapist. He’d met Reuben, and they’d hit it off immediately. Their sessions seem to be structured around smoking and listening to vinyl, but it suits Reuben.
After his first several visits, the nightmares increased, but I’m well versed in how to help him with those. I’ve noticed they’ve tailed off over the last few months, but I haven’t said anything. When he wants to talk, he will, and I know it’ll be to me. He’s my best friend, and I’m his. A friendship like ours is something I never considered before, having no experience of long-term relationships, but I treasure it more and more every day. I want to share everything with him. I love to talk late at night, tucked in bed and in the early hours of the morning when we’re sleep-hoarse, and dawn tinges the room a gentle pink.
“Rhys asked me to be his business partner,” I say.
He runs his hand through my hair, his face absorbed. “I thought he would.”
“You did?”
He boops my nose. “Don’t sound so surprised. You’re an amazing tattoo artist, and you know it.”
I shrug. “I’m very green though.”
“Talent doesn’t know a time schedule. You’re very good, and you’ll get even better. You’re also a good businessman, and I know you’ve got lots of ideas about what to do with the business.” He pats my shoulder. “I’m just glad I got a genuine Xavier Conway before he gets too famous and his prices go up.”
I smile at the tattooed thistle on his tanned skin and press a kiss to it. It’s for Scotland, which will always be a part of him, no matter where we roam in the world, but he says it also represents me because I’m pretty and prickly. That had been quite a night. I’d tattooed him while the shop was closed, and we’d certainly put that chair to some action it doesn’t usually see. He’d been less enamoured by having to clean it thoroughly afterwards.
