“Look, you’re lucky I’m sticking around for moral support at all. It’s too cold to even be out here let alone in that water.”
“Coward.”
I sat on the edge of the pool, hoping the water would warm up as I acclimatised. Instead, my skin grew goosebumps all over, and when a sharp wind blew through, I decided being in the water might actually be better. I slid in and, envious of Miles’s blanket, started swimming short laps back and forth in the too-small-for-laps pool, as much to keep myself from freezing as for active recovery.
After ten minutes, I’d warmed up a bit but was getting sick of the frequent turns, and stopped for a break.
“You’re pretty good at that,” Miles said when I folded my arms on the side of the pool nearest him.
“At what? Freezing to death?”
“Swimming, idiot.”
“I’m Australian,” I said. “The whole surrounded-by-ocean thing means swimming lessons are practically compulsory.”
His grin was the only visible part of him between the sunglasses and the blanket drawn up to his chin. “Matteo Russo, exemplary student. I’m afraid I can’t imagine it. I bet you were a handful at school.”
I had been the kind of student who’d been good at some things and terrible at others, my obsession with reading having failed to translate into either high grades or an ability to focus. A few months ago, I might have said so, might then have shared the mixedfeelings I had about having missed out on much of the normal high school experience due to my junior career, but now I wasn’t sure he actually wanted to hear it.
So, instead, I said, “I’m more of a handful now. Although, even more of a mouthful.”
Miles gave a little groan, while a cry of triumph came from the game inside.
“You should join me,” I said, shifting the water around so it lapped at the walls of the pool. “While no one is paying us any attention.”
“Nothing you say will make me move. My desire to enjoy your mouthful would be destroyed by putting even a single toe in that icy water.”
“I’ll have to come to you then.” I braced my hands on the side of the pool and very slowly pulled myself out, streaming water, smugly aware that a wet me was one of his weaknesses. I dripped all the way across the deck, and while he was distracted by the way my shorts clung, I tore off his blanket.
“Hey!”
Throwing a leg over the chair, I lowered myself onto his lap and lay atop him, his warmth glorious against my cold skin. I smothered his complaints with a deep, hungry kiss and he slid his hands down onto my wet shorts as I lightly ground against him. It was difficult to care about being cold once we were both rock hard and moaning into every kiss, his hold on my arse encouraging the increasing need with which I rolled my hips like I was riding his cock.
Footsteps emerged from the house behind me, but rather than look up, I ignored them because we could – joy in that safety. “Yeah nah,” Macca said with a laugh as he went back inside. “He hasn’t drowned.”
Miles made a sound between a groan and a chuckle. “Fuck, if they weren’t just there, I would rip these damn shorts and have you ride me right now.”
“Too bad we’re not sitting besideyourpool then. Maybe we can do that next time.”
It was absolutely a veiled attempt to see if he ever intended to invite me to his house again, though rather than reassurance, it earned a fleeting grimace. “If it’s even my pool by then.”
I sat back at the bitter note in his words. “What?”
“I don’t directly own the house,” he said. “It’s owned by the company my parents set up years ago, and now they’re using it to be vindictive shits.” He pulled me back down, chest to chest. “You’ve made me too cold to escape being my blanket that easily.”
“Oh, I didn’t realise about the house,” I said. “Or about your parents being awful about it. You didn’t say.”
I was careful not to make it sound like an accusation while hopefully making the point that I couldn’t know things he didn’t tell me.
“It felt important to deal with it on my own. A kind of healing, I suppose.”
“You still could have told me,” I said before I could stop myself. “Otherwise, I feel like I’m only important for being where you get this.” I rubbed our still-hard dicks together. “Which is fine if that’s all you want from me, of co—”
“Which isnotfine!” he cried, gripping my arms and holding me a little away from him to better see my face. “Good god, Mat, of course I want you to be more than just dick. I hate that you could even think that. Though I guess I can’t blame you. I’m shit at sharing.”
Undeniable when more than half the things I knew about his life outside of me I’d learned from articles and interviews. WhenI’d even had to look up his parents’ names. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that his lack of communication was still my fault for beating him in New York, and thinking of how Tomas had said Miles needed to learn to trust people again, I shrugged and said, “You’ve got Tina to talk to.”
He laughed at that, the sound harsh. “I do, but I don’t talk to her either unless it’s about something she can fix.” With a squeeze of my arms, he heaved a sigh. “Shit, I’m really bad at this, huh? You aren’t just dick and you never were. I’ll do better, and if I still suck at it, please ask. If there’s something you want to know, I’ll tell you, all right?”
