Page 34 of Burn It Down

“So, Dylan, how’d you get started in auto repair?” Knox asks. I’m grateful he’s including Dylan in the conversation, but I’malso desperate to have Dylan to myself. We spin the raft so Dylan’s facing Knox, Phoenix, and Hudson and my back is to them. At least while he talks, I have a reason to trace every line on his face, neck, and shoulders.

The guys keep him talking for a while and the conversation is easy. He opens up a little about his mom and then when things start to feel too heavy, Phoenix says, “Tell us more about your sister.”

Dylan chuckles, but obliges him even though he’s sure to add, “Cassie takes no shit. She wants a family and babies and no way would she tolerate your player ways.”

“Too bad, I bet you make a hot girl,” Phoenix replies.

“What the fuck does that mean?” I ask, finally joining the conversation.

“Damn.Down, Jakey. I just meant Dylan’s got his shit together. Christ, I’m not hitting on your boyfriend.”

The blood drains from my face as my eyes slam into Dylan’s before I pin Phoenix with a glare. “Don’t be a fucking asshole.”

“You’re the one who jumped on Hudson for looking at his tattoo,” Phoenix fires back.

Fuck, he’s right.

Under his breath, Dylan whispers, “It’s cool. I don’t think he meant anything by it.”

“It’snotcool. Aren’t you the one who told me to stop saying it’s okay when it isn’t?” I’m getting so riled up and I’m sure my friends are confused as hell at my response since I’m usually so laid back around them.

“Yeah, but this time it actuallyisokay. I don’t feel attacked. He wasn’t saying I look like a girl. I actually think he was calling me hot,” he laughs.

“That’s the problem,” I mutter under my breath. Dylan’s eyes narrow slightly and I realize he heard me.

“Well, that got out of control fast,” Hudson says, striking up a new conversation with Phoenix.

In my peripheral vision, I see Knox watching me as Dylan leans in and whispers, “Is it a problem becausehethinks I’m hot or becauseyoudo?”

My eyes grow wide, but before I have to give an answer, someone pulls Dylan back into the conversation. My head is spinning so badly, I don’t even know which of my friends it is.

I stay quiet after that and focus on my drink as the guys continue talking about work, the weather, and life in general. We pass the next couple of hours drinking and playing volleyball with a floating net and ball that Knox keeps on the boat.

Me, Dylan, and Hudson are buzzing nicely. Knox is working his way back toward being completely sober, and Phoenix is trashed. I just can’t drink like that anymore — at least not without ending up in the emergency room.

Dylan let me off the hook and didn’t bring his very astute observation up again and I’ve been trying my best to keep my eyes off of him. Eventually, we all climb back on the boat and Phoenix groans as the song playing through the speakers makes its way to our ears.

“Not Bieber!” he cries, reaching his hand forward to turn the station. But Dylan stops him.

“Wait! Turn this up,” he says, his grin doing nothing to help lessen the amount of blood that’s been flowing to my dick all afternoon.

“You a Bieber fan?” I tease gently, unable to avert my gaze a second longer.

“Some of his stuff, sure, but I like Luis Fonsi more.”

Phoenix turns the volume up as requested and Dylan jumps onto the seat, using the empty cup in his hand as a microphone. He starts moving his hips expertly to the rhythm and I swear Isee fucking stars. He’s wet and shirtless, dancing with perfect, tantalizing rhythm.

I sit on the opposite bench, my greedy eyes now glued to his torso as I watch in awe. And why shouldn’t I? If he wants to perform, I’ll happily give him an audience.

When he starts singing along to the part in Spanish, really putting on a show, I swallow hard and jump back overboard, needing immediate relief.

As soon as I hit the water, I take off for the opening of the cove to put as much distance between me and the boat as I can before reaching inside my swim trunks and jerking myself off hard and fast. Keeping my back to the boat, I pray the guys can’t tell what’s going on even though I feel my shoulders quake and my stomach clench with my release as shame washes over me.

When I climb back on board a few minutes later, I try to head off the questions by offering answers first.

“I think I gotta call it quits on the liquor. Between the vodka and the sun, I’m feeling a little overheated and pretty worn out, not to mention I’ve gotta piss every five minutes.” I flop onto the bench seat in front of the captain’s chair and place my hat over my face. At least I can’t be tempted to stare at Dylan if something is covering my eyes.

Although, I should know better than to worry the guys. Their training kicks in fast.

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