Page 72 of The Idiot

“Why would I tell anybody?” he grumbles.

Is it just me, or did he sound salty and condescending? Would it be embarrassing to admit that he showed a not-so-straight guy the ropes?

“Right. Of course not. I know that.”

Maybe it’s because it’s the last night of the cruise and we have to go back to reality tomorrow, but my mood is taking a nosedive right along with Murph’s. I hate when he’s grumpy. Plus, if I’d known that a moment ago was my last time exploring with him, I’d have… I don’t know—made it last longer? Gotten more kisses?

Now all I’ll have left is memories and… and what? A big fat question mark over what to do about my new sexual interests?

The thought of messing around with another guy seems foreign and unappealing. I’d have to know them really, really well, like Murph. Maybe it was just the pheromones on this sex cruise.

It’s ten o’clock, but I don’t feel like sleeping yet. Clearing my throat to break the silence, I give him another nudge. “Hey, want to watch that porn again?”

His head rises from the mattress like the dead come alive. The look he gives me is preposterous. “Now?”

What am I supposed to say? If I don’t have him, all I’ve got left is porn? I don’t want to be a pity case, and he’s always telling me I’m needy, so I just shrug like I’m bored.

I find the film on his laptop and hitplay. Turning off the lights, I return to the bed, surprised to find him still sprawledout the wrong way. I thought he’d climb back up to the pillows and go to sleep, since his mood seems to have taken a turn.

Settling against the headboard, I chew my lip, watching the flick with a new perspective. It’s surreal this time because I’ve done everything the men on the TV have. Well, almost. I know how those touches feel, the sensations that they foster. Is that what Murph and I look like when we mess around? It’s so… sensual. Beautiful, even. Nonchalantly, I slip my hand into my boxers and give myself a stroke.

“Come here,” a low voice rumbles from the foot of the bed.

It gives me a start until I focus on his eyes through the darkness. I thought he’d fallen asleep. Maybe I’m imagining things, but he looks… hungry. Hungry forme.

That whole ‘what-happens-on-the-cruise-stays-on-the-cruise’ comment has me skeptical about whether this is the kind of green light I hope it is. His hand clamps down over my ankle, though, and he tugs for me to move. I go with eagerness and hope—we’re still on the cruise, after all.

I’m a bit uncertain about what he wants to do until he arranges us with me straddling his shoulders and tugs my boxers down. There’s only one access point from this angle. The realization has my breath quickening at the thought.

His hand grips my cock. Smiling up at me, he bastes his lips with my precum. “Go on then. Watch your porn,” he says wryly before placing a soft kiss on my zipper scar that sends a shiver down my spine. Did he actually remember myGood Housekeepingjerk off story and knew it was there? I lose all curiosity when he takes me deep into his mouth.

Aw, hell.

Porn was all I have left, and now he’s going to ruin it for me forever. I won’t have his mouth to thrust into and those intenseeyes staring back at me if I ever watch it again. Trying to think positively, I console myself with the knowledge that if it has to end, this is definitely a great way to end it.

CHAPTER 24

Murphy

I had given up hope that I’d see much of Jesse again after I watched him board his flight home from the cruise. I wanted to change my ticket so badly to be on the same plane as him, but fought back the foolish notion.

What happens on the cruise stays on the cruise.

That’s what we agreed on. His agreement, however, came so swiftly that it stung as I lay on my cabin bed after what I thought had been our best day there yet. Laughing and dancing with him in that ridiculous, tight-ass costume he wore, surrounded by people—it was the cruelest kind of fantasy. It felt like what a life together could look like. Endless kisses, more orgasms, and then it ended with a shrug. A fucking shrug.

I don’t know why I expected anything different. It’s one thing to confess that you enjoy intimacy when you’re pressed against someone’s body in a tiny shower, but it’s another when you know the real world is a day away.

As soon as I saw him stroking himself to that porn flick, it was like a kick in the teeth. Was he bored with me already? Immune to all the passion we’d shared over the past week? Jesse’s always been like a wayward ember, burning bright on abreeze. It was only a matter of time until I couldn’t sustain his spark. How long until he discovers a different wind, though?

He did text to see if I’d made it home safely, so at least he cared enough to find out if my plane had crashed. I can’t imagine what being back in Wenatchee has been like for him, returning with the memories of what we’ve done. I knew he’d have things to figure out. His first night home included a trip to The Dew Drop, though. I gathered that said it all.

I haven’t seen him in three days. So, when he texted earlier, asking what I was up to, and I told him I was working in the tractor shed, I was surprised by how quickly he invited himself over. It’s been taking everything in me to keep a placid look on my face the past two hours while we fiddled in my shop, greasing equipment, and tractors.

Strangely, he’s his usual charming self. Not distant. Not awkward. Just the opposite, in fact. I was starting to think I was imagining the way his body brushed against mine each time he passed by me. The way his hand seemed to linger whenever he asked for a tool. It’s messing with my head.

I can feel his heat behind me. Granted, it’s chilly now that November has dawned, but my shed is insulated.

Peering over my shoulder as I sand the rust off an apple picker, he asks, “When’s Charlotte get home?”

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