Page 7 of Stranded

“Fuck,” I groan, wincing. “What the hell is going on?”

I don’t know how to explain the sudden fire in my blood—or the dizzying whirlwind of emotions. I feel excited in a way I haven’t for so long, and worried about where the hell this came from, and… well, just plain confused.

In all dates I’ve been on with women—or even the few attempts at relationships, ending quickly and disastrously—I’ve never feltthis. But I’ve also never tried dating men.

Wasthatthe answer all along?

Shit. I should go.

Rush home, jerk off, and forget about this. Not hang out here, staring across the water at this poor stranger likehe’smy lasagna. But I can’t tear my gaze away, and I don’t even know why.

Adrenaline? Can adrenaline do this?

It’s a theory. Worrying about someone in danger, thinking about being lonely, all in the middle of a months-long dry spell… I could almost believe it.

But I can’t ignore the throbbing pulse of my downstairs brain. Wordsandcoherent thoughts are suddenly hard to come by. And it’s only getting harder—in every possible way.

“Oh,shit.”

Gravel scrapes underfoot as I shift from foot to foot. I’m trying to see better through the gloom.

So I can see more of this naked man who probably doesn’t even know I’m watching him.

“Jesus fuck. Alphonso Harris,” I breathe out. “Get it together.”

I’m not a perv, I swear. However flustered and horny I am, I can’t forget the knot of worry sitting heavily in my belly.

“Aghhhhh—!”

The stranger’s cry echoes across the water as he flails around, and I hiss through clenched teeth. He definitely tried to put a toe in the water.

Is he trying to… swim?

He yells again. The sound shatters the night and shakes me to the core. I don’t need to hear his actual words in order to know what he’s feeling.

Despair.

That’s the sound of someone who’s in pain—and who feels totally alone.

“Oh, shit,” I breathe out, clenching my fist against my chest.

I have to get to him.

It’s not even a choice. There’s no world in which I could forget about this, and keep walking home to eat lasagna like nothing happened.

I’m sprinting back the way I came, as fast as I possibly can.

There’s a lot of unknowns: who this guy is, how he ended up having a breakdown on this beach, or why one look at him made me question everything I’ve ever assumed about myself.

But I do know two things.

First, he’s stranded.

And second, I doubt I can really be his Prince Charming, whatever my body has to say about it… but nothing will stop me from rescuing him.

Chapter

Two

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