Page 1 of Only One Beach House

Chapter 1

NOLAN

With my windows rolled down and the ocean breeze whipping through my hair as I sing along to my summer playlist—mostly made up of songs that were cool for exactly one summer twenty years ago—I start to feel my spirit lift for the first time in months. The lethargy and hopelessness that have been riding my shoulders eases with every mile closer I get to the beach house. The sun warms my skin, and my lips twitch with a smile as memories of summers spent out here on the coast flood my mind.

Slater and I met in a kids’ soccer club my parents forced me to go to before they realized that my two left feet and disdain for team sports weren’t going to be fixed by me just “having the right attitude.” I broke my nose twice that spring, and accidentally dislocated another kid’s knee, but I came out of it with a best friend, so it wasn’t all bad. All through middle school and high school, Slater used his charm and much larger stature to keep the bullies from picking on me too badly, and I returned the favor by making sure he scraped through with passing grades.We spent weekends playing video games at my house, nights staying up late chatting on instant messenger, and summers at the beach house with his parents and his little brother.

An unexpected laugh rumbles in my throat.Caspian. I’m not sure how, but I completely forgot about him until just now. After college I moved to the East Coast, so it’s been a decade since I last saw Slater’s little brother. While Slater and I spent the summer months swimming in the ocean and staying up late watching movies, Caspian’s main goals seemed to be avoiding the sun at all costs and absolutely crushing the library’s summer reading challenge. I don’t even think he was doing it for the personal pan pizzas, I think he just liked readingthat much.

I snort and shake my head, taking the last curve towards the Martin family beach house. I’ve gotta remember to call Slater and thank him again once I’m settled in.

Getting laid off unexpectedly was bad enough, but coming home that same night to have my roommate tell me that he wanted his girlfriend to move in and that the place just wasn’t big enough for three people was a kick in the balls I didn’t need. I don’t know what I would have done if Slater hadn’t offered to let me stay here for a few months so I can figure things out and get back on my feet.

There’s a car I don’t recognize parked in the driveway. He said his parents were on some fancy months’ long cruise and that I should have the place to myself. Maybe he decided to blow off work and come for the weekend like I’ve been begging him to all week. It’s been too damn long since I’ve seen him, and some best friend time is exactly what I need right now.

I grab the lone duffle bag full of clothes I bothered to keep. I put the rest of my belongings in storage until I can figure out where I’m going to land long-term. The second I step out of my car, a smile spreads over my lips and the last of my pessimism about the future melts away. I don’t if know hiding out for a fewmonths at a beach house is going to get my life back on course, but a little sand, sun, and relaxation certainly can’t hurt. Right?

I hitch my bag over my shoulder and jog up the steps to the front door, itching to throw my arms around my best friend and then kick his ass at someMario Kart, just like the good old days. I don’t bother stopping to check for the key since I’m sure Slater already got it out of the little lock box. Sure enough, the doorknob turns without resistance, and I fling the front door open.

“Honey, I’m home,” I call out loudly, dropping my duffle bag right inside the door.

The place is completely different than I remember it, which makes sense because his mother has a habit of having it redecorated or renovated every few years. But no amount of different colored paint or new furniture can change the familiar smell hanging in the air—a combination of ocean and sand and just a hint of lavender. It smells like home in a way few other places ever have.

I can hear shuffling footsteps in the kitchen, so that’s where I head, ready to give my best friend shit for insisting there wasno wayhe could take time off work. I pass the many pictures of Slater and his little brother hanging on the walls, spanning from early childhood to the awkward teen years when they must have put their foot down and said ‘no more embarrassing beach pictures.’ There are photos of Slater surfing, building a sandcastle, and running around the beach. The photos of Caspian are mostly different versions of the poor, chubby kid looking miserable and sunburned, or hiding in the shade of an umbrella with his nose in a book. I chuckle again and round the corner into the kitchen.

I stop dead in my tracks, heat jolting through my body at the sight that’s waiting for me. It’s not Slater. Actually, I have no idea who it is. What I do know is that he is bare-ass naked, andthere are many miles of pale, creamy skin on display with the man’s back to me. His broad shoulders look like the perfect place to dig my fingers in while he pins me down and fucks me within an inch of my life.

I know it seems like quite a leap from walking in on a naked dude to imagining getting railed by him in two seconds flat without even seeing what his front looks like, but I swear that says more about just how nice his backside looks than how long it’s been since I’ve gotten laid…or how unbelievably slutty I am for a good pair of shoulders.

He swings his hips to the beat of music I can’t hear, his gorgeous ass and thick thighs jiggling with the motion. My cock swells and so does my tongue, making it impossible to say anything to this naked Adonis who may or may not be breaking and entering. He belts out the words to a song I don’t recognize, singing in a high falsetto that doesn’t do anything to disguise how deep his real voice must be.

Without warning, he spins around. I didn’t even notice he was holding a sandwich, but a chunk of lunch meat flies out of it and slaps against the edge of the counter before hitting the floor. His backside might have had me ready to bend over for him, but his frontside is somehow even better. His cock is heavy and long, even though it’s soft, slapping against one meaty thigh and then the other as he whirls to face me. His stomach is soft too—in the best way, perfect for snuggling after a good, hard fuck. I trail my gaze slowly up his body, mesmerized by every inch of it.

By the time I reach his chest, a pink flush is coloring his pale skin, and I realize I’m being a complete creep. Or… wait… he’s naked in a house he broke into, that has to makehimthe creep. Right? My gaze finally reaches his face and my breath lodges in my throat, all the filthy fantasies dancing through my mind grinding to a halt so fast I swear I can smell burning rubber.

My mouth falls open and he stops with his sandwich halfway to his mouth, his eyes wide.

“Caspian?” I choke.

He reaches up to tug one of the earbuds out, the shock on his face slowly transforming into a crooked grin as he stands there in the kitchen, naked as the day he was born. Well… not exactly as the day he was born, since I doubt he looked anything likethis…

I shake my head, opening and closing my mouth a few times, trying to wrap my head around what’s happening. Blessedly, he reaches for a rag with his free hand to cover his cock, which,fuck me, is starting to plump. And,fuck me harder, the damn rag doesn’t even manage to cover it all.

I cast my gaze towards the ceiling, sending up a silent prayer of forgiveness for having coveted my best friend’s baby brother, then try the greeting again.

“You… grew up good.”

CASPIAN

I figured I might run into Nolan again one day, I just always thought it would be at something like Slater’s eventual wedding. There’s atinypossibility I’ve imagined… or, you know, fantasized… about it a few times. I would be in a nice suit, Nolan would notice me but not recognize me for the first few seconds, too stunned to believe Slater’s nerdy baby brother grew up to be a certified beefcake with extremely healthy self-esteem and a massively lucrative career writing gay romance. We would spend the night flirting, and it would be like all those years I spent feeling invisible to my first crush never happened.

I’m not going to lie, this isso. Much. Better!

“Thanks,” I say with a grin.

I take another bite of my sandwich, the dance beat of my favorite playlist still blaring in one ear while I revel for a fewseconds in the flush on Nolan’s face and the fact that his eyes keep darting down to the rag I’m using to cover my junk.

“Do you… um… want to get dressed?” His voice gets low and husky at the end, and he clears his throat as soon as he finishes getting the words out.

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