Flynn stepped down onto the slick tiles. The water hit his skin and made him flinch. Nate apparently liked tepid showers and had turned the temperature way down. He tilted his head back to let the water soak his hair and wash the sleep out of his eyes. Nate pulled him into the shower and pressed up against his back. He ran wet hands down Flynn’s body, over his ribs, and down to his thighs. His fingers stalled at the twist of scar tissue.
Nate traced the scar from the thickest point at the front of Flynn’s thigh, where he could barely feel the pressure, to the thread-thin surgical scar on his inner thigh. “So what was the plan?”
It was Flynn who brought up the question, but when he was on the spot, he didn’t want to talk about it. The hand on his cock was a good distraction from that reluctance, though—slow, steady strokes from base to tip, a bit too gentle.
“Fix this place up, sell it, leave,” Flynn said. He reached down and wrapped his hand around Nate’s. He pumped it faster along his cock and squeezed just hard enough to make pleasure throb down into his balls and back into his ass. “Go back to work. There’s always a garage, always rescue work.”
Nate groaned and pressed an open-mouth kiss against Flynn’s shoulder. He sucked the water off his skin and bit down on a mouthful of flesh. His cock was slotted between Flynn’s thighs. It was hard and wet as Nate ground against him.
“You’re still here. You could have sold to Teddy anytime.”
Flynn reached back with his free hand and caught Nate’s thigh to pull him closer. Each thrust rubbed velvety hardness over the tender ridge of skin between his thighs. Arousal was a hot clench of weight, and his balls were tight and twitching.
“I guess, just once, I didn’t want the old bastard to get what he wanted. This time he didn’t get to win.”
An unsteady laugh escaped Nate, and he ground against Flynn’s ass in time with the steady pump of their interlaced fingers.
“That’s cutting off your nose to spite your face,” he said. “Trust me, living your life to spite Teddy doesn’t get you far. Ask Max.”
Flynn let his lip curl. “I’d rather not.”
He felt Nate’s body shift behind him. The hitch of muscles and slip of flesh translated into a shrug in Flynn’s head. Maybe he was going to say something else, but whatever it was got lost in his harshened breathing and the desperate squirm of his hips against Flynn’s ass.
Flynn tightened his grip over Nate’s fingers and turned the slow pump into an impatient yank. He twisted on the downstroke and choked back a groan of aching pleasure and a mouthful of tepid water. It drew the orgasm out of him, and he arched his back into it.
He had to grab the wall for support and brace his fingers against the slick glass as his muscles went slack and loose with his release. Nate swore against the nape of his neck and thrust roughly against him. He came with a shudder and a drawn-out rasp of Flynn’s name. The stickiness clung to Flynn’s thighs and washed away with the shower.
“For this,” Nate said as he panted like a winded horse. “I could be a morning person.”
Flynn snorted and reached back to ruffle his fingers through Nate’s hair. “This and coffee.”
THE COFFEEwas black, thick, and store brand. It was also strong, which was all Nate seemed to care about. Flynn leaned against the sink, his cup cradled in his hands, and watched Nate distractedly juggle between drinking the coffee and checking his phone.
Despite the borrowed T-shirt and scruff-dried hair—it had taken him a while to believe Flynn didn’t have a hair dryer—Nate looked like he should be in the pages of a magazine. Maybe not fashion, but some high-end “home and gardens” thing at least.
“If I chucked that thing over the cliff, you’d probably go with it,” Flynn said dryly.
Nate didn’t look away from the screen, but he set his cup down long enough to give Flynn the finger.
“After yesterday I’m playing catch-up. It’s the wedding rehearsal dinner tonight, and I’ve got to convince the mothers about the change in venue and get in touch with the photographer.” He looked up at last and grimaced apologetically. “It’s not always this bad.”
“Katie and Bradley’s rehearsal dinner,” Flynn said. “So his dip in the sea hasn’t cooled the groom’s enthusiasm?”
Nate shook his head. He turned his screen off and dropped the phone into his pocket. “No. Once I made sure he didn’t have to wear a tie, he was all for it. Now I just have to make sure nothing else goes wrong between today and tomorrow night.” He paused and glanced over at the back door and the pale blue sky bright as crayon through the window. “And somehow make sure it doesn’t rain.”
“It’s not meant to.”
“That means nothing.” Nate tipped his head back and drained the dregs of coffee. He put the mug in the sink and looked at Flynn uncertainly for a second. “So, I was thinking—”
His phone went off before he could finish the sentence. Nate grabbed it from his pocket and frowned at whatever the screen said. He gestured “just a second” to Flynn as he took the call.
“Hi, Max, I—No, I’m not dead. I just—yes, I’m still here. Why tell Teddy that? I’m not even going to be late.” The stuttered rhythm of the call marked the habitual interruptions of people who knew each other too well to need to hear out the whole sentence. It paused for a second, and Nate absently rubbed his fingertips against the back of his ear as he listened. Whatever he heard made him pull a face, but he didn’t argue. “I do appreciate it. Max, don’t spoil it.”
Nate took the phone away from his ear.
“You called Max?” Flynn asked.
“I didn’t want Mum to worry,” Nate said. His mouth twitched into a stiff smile. “And I, umm… needed a lift into work.”
