Page 36 of Return By Fire

Because dodging isn’t doing us any good.

Jed stands with his back to me, arms braced straight against the polished teak of the rail. Head bowed, his fingers clench and release over and over against the curvature of the wood. But it isn’t the indecision in his posture that has me pausing to board—it’s the fact he’s dressed in a pair of boxers.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Loose cotton, they catch and hold the wind whipping off the ocean. I’m jealous of the air that gets to hug the firm globes of his tight ass before I have the chance.

I’d kissed him the night before. Smoothed my hand over his chest, but seeing him this unkept, this intense causes something to grow in a muscle that keeps expanding for him—my heart. I slide my hand to my own cock as I give my imagination leeway to the number of times I’ve fantasized about touching his body often hidden beneath the casual wear he favors. I remember feeling the twists of lean muscles taper down his arms toward those hands that scraped through my hair, clutched my back, as our lips met for the first time.

Christ, it feels like forever since our lips first touched but what is forever when what I’m dreaming of is a lifetime?

My eyes follow the line of symmetric muscles down his back, over the curve of his hip, and down his long legs. My pulse, already jumping from the punishing run I put myself through mere moments before, leaps so hard against my veins that when he turns around, I’m certain it isn’t due to any sudden awareness of my presence but due to the noise desire for him rouses in me.

When Jed faces me fully, he doesn’t say a word. Not yet, I correct myself, grimly. Still, even knowing this loyal, attractive man is likely to kick me into the churning waves of the Atlantic, I can’t prevent the surge of desire as it dances up my spine as I stare at a chest only an artist could have sculpted—a creation of muscle, skin, and hair that tapers down beneath the band of those fucking boxers.

Even as my body coils in delicious agony, Jed rests back against the rail. His lips curve upward. “I should have expected you.”

I brace my legs apart and cross my arms over my chest. With dawn lighting the deck, I find him perusing me as thorough as I did him. Gritting my teeth, I force out, “I was out running.”

“Hmm.” His response is non-committal, as if my whereabouts mean nothing. Which they might not.

As Jed approaches me, my eyes narrow. “What does that mean?”

“I just was wondering about something.”

“That is?”

“Do you always go for long runs in your jeans?” He eyes me critically as I struggle for an answer while trying to prevent the heat from rising to my cheeks. “For that matter, isn’t that the same shirt you worse last night?”

“Fuck you, Jedidiah,” I declare succinctly before spinning on a heel.

Like a coiled snake, Jed’s pressed himself up against me. His dark blue eyes are vulnerable, demanding answers I don’t have because I need him to ask the damn questions.

There’s one thing I can do though.

Hauling him tighter against my body, I murmur, “I don’t know what you’re doing to me. All I know is I’m afraid of not following where it leads.”

Jed lifts his hands and finds the gap between my unbuttoned shirt. His fingers on my skin cause the flesh to vibrate as he drags his fingers back and forth to part the opening wider. I remain motionless as he explores the muscle with his determined caress.

Not a word is spoken between us. The only sounds are the seagulls and our gasps when Jed finds a particularly sensitive spot—my nipples, my ribs, the front of my abs.

As Jed explores physically, I use the chance to catalog every single one of his features. His beard bisects his face. A shudder racks through me as I imagine what it will feel like to have that silky fullness between my legs sucking me off. He leans his face closer and inhales, nostrils flaring slightly. I blurt out, “Christ, I hope I don’t stink. I can shower.”

He darts his tongue out before murmuring, “Don’t you dare.”

That’s when I know this is happening. We’re happening in whatever capacity Jed will take me.

My body mourns the loss of his one hand but my face relishes it. He cups my chin and tugs my face forward. But still, he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he strokes the side of my cheek, traces the shell of my ear, before using his thumb to tug down my lower lip as his other hand grips the back of my neck.

I’m groaning before our lips connect in a slow, sacred kiss. At first, it’s just us stirring the embers of the fire crackling between us higher as we exchange oxygen.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Then it becomes more—the glide of one tongue against another. The knocking of our teeth together. The fusing of desire and more. So much more.

Jed’s hands grab my hips and press our lower bodies together. I feel the bulge behind my jeans grow harder, if that’s even possible. As we kiss, his cock strokes against it and every worry I’ve held fades away.

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