He jerked his thumb seaward. The wind was still howling outside, although the rain had eased off to a stinging drizzle as they dragged the lifeboat back in.
Nate looked surprised for a second and then rallied indignantly. “Bradley was running late again. He missed the ferry. It wasn’t even that bad when Tomas left. It was a bit of spitting rain and a brisk breeze. There was no way to know that the weather was going to get worse, or that something was going to go wrong with the boat.”
Flynn stood up and glared down at Nate. “What do you think would have happened if something had happened to Bradley? You think Teddy Saint John would have had your back when the lawyers came calling?”
God knew, better men than Teddy had left Flynn swinging in the wind when the shit hit the fan.
“It was no different to putting them in a taxi,” Nate protested. “What? Should I have checked the forecast before I sent them out on the road?”
“It’s the sea,” Flynn said flatly. “You don’t take risks with the sea. Youalwaysassume that something is going to go wrong. That way you have a chance—”
“Oh shut up,” Nate snapped, and kissed him.
In surprise Flynn rocked back on his heels as far as he could go with Nate hanging on to fistfuls of his sweater. That wasn’t the usual reaction he got when he yelled at people. Of course, it was Nate. The man was weird. He had cold lips too, although his tongue was hot as he shoved it into Flynn’s mouth.
The flare of anger was satisfying, something to do with all that jittery, leftover energy. But it folded as lust punched it solidly in the gut. Heat flushed the cold out of his marrow and pulled tightly in his balls. Flynn reached up and buried his hand in Nate’s damply curled hair and cupped around the bones of his skull with his palm. He kissed him back, with a sharp new confidence in the press of lips, tongue, and spit.
This time it was Nate kissinghim,and there was no audience to convince—not unless the hanging rubber suits joined the gossip circle.
So fuck it. Like it was the first bad idea he’d followed through on?
Flynn caught Nate’s lower lip between his teeth and tugged at it. He let the soft curve slip free and pulled back from the kiss. “I hope you don’t want the cake back,” he said. “I ate it.”
The reminder made Nate’s ears flush again. If he ever decided to try poker as a career, that tell would ruin him.
“I thought I told you to shut up,” Nate said. “I’d try that.”
He shoved Flynn down on the bench and crawled into his lap. His ass pressed down against Flynn’s dick, and the pressure made his balls ache with pleasure. He groaned raggedly, and Nate smirked down at him.
“That noise you can make,” he allowed.
Flynn snorted. He shoved Nate’s jacket down off his shoulders and bit wet, openmouthed kisses against his neck. His teeth branded red rosettes into Nate’s pale skin. Probably a shit move, but seeing possession bruised down that elegant throat gave the lust in Flynn’s gut an extra punch.
It made Nate hot too. He knelt on the bench and ground himself against Flynn. There were just a couple of layers of fabric between their hard dicks. Fuck. Flynn braced his feet on the tiles, muscles pulled tightly up into his thighs, and slid his hands down to grip Nate’s ass. He dragged him closer and tried to remember the last time he’d been that close to coming in his pants. Probably the last time he’d had a stealth fuck in a locker room.
He didn’t have long to think about it. Nate slashed a hard, demanding kiss over Flynn’s mouth and fumbled impatiently with his jeans. Flynn lifted his hips off the bench and helped shove the denim down toward his thighs. Nate’s fingers were cold as they skimmed down the flat of Flynn’s stomach and even colder as they wrapped around his dick.
“Sonofabitch,” Flynn groaned into Nate’s mouth and felt the smug as it curved the lips pressed against his.
Pleasure throbbed down his shaft and twisted into his groin as the liquid pressure of it swelled. Nate squeezed and tugged at his dick with clever fingers, more roughly than Flynn handled himself and with an impatience that made Flynn’s mouth go dry. The scrape of old wool against tender skin was less appealing.
He leaned back awkwardly and dragged the sweater off, one arm at a time. Nate shifted his weight and raised himself up on his knees. He let go of Flynn’s dick as he unzipped his trousers. His erection pressed up toward his stomach, the head of it dabbing precome stains onto his T-shirt.
“Didn’t say you could go anywhere.” Flynn growled as he grabbed a handful of shirt.
A laugh snorted inelegantly down Nate’s nose as Flynn dragged him back down. He slid a hand between their bodies and traced the hard lines of Flynn’s ribs and tight stomach. His breath tickled Flynn’s lips as he muttered, “Never taking my fucking shirt off around you.”
“You’re beautiful,” Flynn said. It was the truth, and it made him cringe. “If you keep your mouth shut.”
“Yeah?” Nate’s eyes flicked up and looked sharp with amusement. The corner of his mouth tilted in a wicked smirk. “Never had any complaints about what I did with my mouth before.”
It was self-preservation to grab the back of Nate’s head and pull him into a kiss. If Flynn didn’t stop thinking about all the other things he could do with that mouth, it was going to be over quickly.
Nate went along with being shut up and kissed back enthusiastically. He returned his hand to Flynn’s dick and squeezed it against his own. Each thrust of his hips rubbed their dicks together and trapped them between their bodies. The scruff of hair that trailed down Flynn’s stomach prickled against tender skin and matted with a mixture of come and sweat. He could feel the twinned pulse of blood through both of their erections and the way Nate’s dick slid to the right with each thrust.
Flynn reluctantly dragged his mouth away from Nate’s and tracked kisses along his jaw. He felt weirdly smug at the faint prickle of stubble against the sharp line of bone. It felt more intimate than it should have—a chink in Nate’s considered presentation of himself. He tasted of salt and the sharp alcohol base of cologne. A hint of smoke.
Nate spit a curse out in ragged pieces and pressed his face into Flynn’s shoulder. His breath was hot against skin that had gone from cold to sweaty, and he chewed with blunt teeth at the taut flesh over Flynn’s collarbone.
