Chapter Twenty-Four
“Of course, I knew all about it from the beginning, but I’d not want to gossip.”
WHATEVER REACTIONFlynn had expected from Nate, he didn’t get it.
“You shit!” Nate spluttered as he scrambled back up to his feet. He stalked over to Flynn and jabbed a finger in his chest. “You’re supposed to be doing a midday flit. Why aren’t you on the ferry?”
There was something oddly endearing about irascible Nate. He was like a cat that had taken offense at its own reflection. Or maybe that was just a side effect of how ridiculously, buoyantly happy Flynn felt right now. It was stupid—for all he knew Nate had just left something in his car—but he couldn’t help it.
“I changed my mind.”
Nate shoved him. “You’re a dick.”
“Yeah,” Flynn agreed. “I’m your dick, though.”
Once, in a bad winter storm, Flynn had dropped out of a helicopter into an ice-cold sea in the hopes he’d find a missing girl. He could have died, or been seriously injured, but he’d never been afraid. The risks had been weighed and accepted before he’d even gotten on the copter. This, a halfhearted, still deniable admission of feelings—maybe—was unknown territory, and he held his breath as he waited for Nate’s response.
“Who else would have you?” Nate groused. Then he grinned and pulled Flynn into an eager, clumsy kiss that mashed lips and banged their teeth together. His hand cupped Flynn’s jaw and then slid backward so he could twist his fingers in Flynn’s hair.
Flynn dragged him closer. He bit the curve of Nate’s lower lip and slid his tongue through the gasp into the wet heat of Nate’s mouth. The easy way that Nate’s body fit against him ran hunger through Flynn, an eager tickle of interest in his balls.
Someone whooped.
In his arms Nate flinched and started to draw back. Flynn didn’t let him. “Fuck ’em,” he mouthed against Nate’s lips and dipped Nate back over his arm. A gurgle of startled laughter escaped Nate and he grabbed Flynn’s shoulders for support, his fingers twisted into his T-shirt, but he went back to kissing.
Finally, breathless and hard under his jeans, Flynn had to put Nate back on his feet. Or tried to. Nate sprawled against him, his arms draped over Flynn’s shoulder and his face buried in the side of his throat. He was laughing.
“What?” Flynn asked as he slid his fingers through Nate’s hair in a lazy caress. He felt Nate’s smile against his neck.
“Just wondering what you’d have done if I’d jumped.”
“Jumped in after you and fished you out of the water.”
“Hey!” Nate lifted his head to frown at Flynn. “I could have made it.”
Flynn raised his eyebrows skeptically, but gave in to the notion. “I’d have fucking swum after you,” he said. It started out as a joke, but he realized he meant it. Maybe not literally, but… “I’m done playing stupid games.”
His stomach dropped for a second as Nate stepped back from him. What if Nate wasn’t? What if he’d run down to the pier and chased after the ferry to tell Flynn he wanted to keep things casual? Nate tilted his head to the side, one hand raised to shade his eyes against the sun.
“I didn’t fuck Max,” he said.
Flynn let out a relieved sigh. He’d not been going to ask, convinced that he didn’t want to know the answer. It turned out he did.
“It wouldn’t matter if you had,” he said. That was true, but so was what he said next. “I’m glad you didn’t, though. Come home with me.”
He could see the “yes” curve over Nate’s lips, but it didn’t quite make it out. Nate bit his lower lip and pulled a reluctant face.
“We need to talk.”
“I know.” Flynn put his fingers under Nate’s chin and tilted his head back for another kiss. This one was soft, his lips just brushed against Nate’s. “We can talk in bed.”
Nate tried not to smile, Flynn could actually see him fight the curve of his lips, but he couldn’t help it. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Flynn’s jeans, the brush of his knuckles against bare skin doing all sorts of things to Flynn.
“I suppose we could,” he said. “Later.”
The cramp of want that hit Flynn’s groin made the whole bed idea a bit more pressing. He took a deep breath, reminded himself he wasn’t twenty anymore, and stepped back.
“Go lock your car up,” he said. “I’ll drive.”
