Page 10 of Stranded

“Yes,” I breathe out. “Fuck, yes.”

Whatever kind of ride I can get.

Chapter

Three

ALPH

“Here. Just be careful—”

Too late.

The overexcitable young man is so eager to get on board that he misses the threshold step completely. I let go of the rope, trying to grab his other arm, but momentum is already winning.

He’s about to trip over his own two feet right in front of me… and all I can do is catch him.

“Fuck—!”

The ferry gently sways underneath us as he crashes into me. He’s a few inches shorter than me, and built all willowy and slender. For a big, strong guy like me, it’s easy to keep him upright.

What I didn’t expect was our faces to turn toward each other at the same moment.

His mouth catches the edge of my jaw, then slides up toward the corner of my mouth. I’m rooted to the spot, transfixed by the red-hot sparks dragging along my skin in the wake of his warm, soft lips.

What… the hell… is happening?

My head turns toward his—and I want to tell myself it’s out of sheer surprise, but it’s not, I know it’snot—and then our lips meet.

In my experience, kisses—especially first kisses—are usually nervous, awkward, and over in the blink of an eye. So accidental first kisses should be even more forgettable, right?

Wrong.

His lips slide smoothly and sweetly over mine, and the taste of him makes every instinct in my body clamour,yes, yes, yes!It’s like I’m seeing a new colour for the first time.

This would be about as easy to forget as being struck by lightning. Sort of feels the same way, actually.

Every single sensation is electrifying and sharp and new. The rough drag of day-old stubble against my cheek, the sharpness and angles of his body slamming into my chest, the low grunt of his voice, the warmth of his mouth, the firm grip of his fingers closing around both of my arms…

Shit.

At some point in all of these endless, dizzying moments, I’m pretty sure he stopped accidentally kissing me and started doing it on purpose.

I’m still too stunned to kiss him back… but I’m notnotkissing him, either. It’s just happeningtome.

That’s new, too. I’ve never been the one getting kissed like this: rough and raw, filled with a headstrong desire that drags an answer out from the depths of me.

Goddamn, it feels good.

I figured I’d come pick up this guy and my body would figure out right away thathe’s a guy, and I’m a guy, and this won’t work. But it’s exactly the opposite.

Now that I’m seeing my rescued castaway, breathing in his scent, touching him,kissinghim…

It’s not just my dick getting hard.

I mean, that’s definitely happening—there’s no denying the pleasant ache, the strain as my hard-on tries to fight its way out of my jeans, or the breathless tingle of arousal dancing across my skin.

But that same wildfire is melting something else inside me, too. Suddenly, it feels like I’m the one who’s naked and flailing around, completely exposed to a stranger’s scrutiny while I’m out of my depth.

---