Page 9 of Waiting for a Prince
He grabbed his shorts and hurriedly pulled them up over his hips.
“I’m sorry to disturb you.”
That voice. Mark shielded his eyes from the sun and sure enough, it was Sam, his cheeks flushed. The hoodie was now tied around his waist and his shades were balanced on top of his head. He gave Mark a nervous half-smile, his eyes flicking once below Mark’s waist.
“You’re the guy from the salon, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right. The name’s Mark Horrocks.” He held out his hand and Sam stumbled up over the pebbles to shake it. The whole situation felt so surreal.
“I know.”
That stopped him dead in his tracks. How in the hell could Sam know his name?
Sam frowned. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
Oh, trust me, hon, there’s nowayI’d forget meetingyou. The words flitted through his brain but Mark had the sense to keep his lips zipped. He tilted his head. “I’m sorry, I think you might have me confused with someone else. I don’t think we’ve ever met, at least not before Saturday in the salon.” He was desperately trying to ignore the fact his dick was tenting his shorts.
Apparently, it wanted to shake Sam’s hand, too.
Sam’s expression grew more confident. “Okay, yeah, strictly speaking? We’ve never spoken. But I remember you. Ryde High School. You were in Year 10 when I was in Year 13.”
What the fuck?
“Really?” Mark racked his brains. “I don’t remember, sorry.” He rubbed his jaw, trying to ignore his cock that still kept drawing attention to itself, pushing against the cotton.
He’s seen you, all right? How could he miss you? Now go back to sleep. Please.
Sam shrugged. “No reason why you should.” He cleared his throat again. “Look, would it be all right if I joined you? I could use the company right now.” There was a flash of that earlier expression which had struck Mark so forcefully. That look of sadness tugged at him.
Mark came to a quick decision. “Sure.”
Sam beamed and clambered up onto the sandy shelf. He spread out his towel and dropped his backpack onto it. Then he looked up and down the beach. “Do I have to take all my clothes off, too?”
Mark’s cheeks burned. “It’s sort of an unofficial nudist beach. But you don’t have to.”
“That works for me.” He pulled at his T-shirt, lifting it up and off. Mark tried hard not to stare, butoh my God, the man was freaking gorgeous.
Silver rings glinted in the sun where they hung from Sam’s tight little nipples. His chest was smooth: Mark liked that. Dark, chaotic swirls adorned his upper arms, spreading out over his torso, thinning out until they disappeared beneath the waistband of his shorts. Mark drank in the lean, ripped body and came to the conclusion that somewhere, God was having a really good chuckle.
Would it have beensobad to make him gay, huh?
“Do you like tats?” Sam asked.
Yeah, tats, riiiiight….
Mark dragged his thoughts away from the man’s droolworthy body. “Yeah, I do. I’ve come up with a design, and there’s a tattoo place in Shanklin that’s going to do it for me, probably in the next month or so.”
“Sweet.” Sam sat down on his towel and reclined back on his elbows, those long legs stretched out. He turned his face up toward the sun and expelled a sigh. “This is nice. Do you do this often?”
“Not as often as I’d like,” Mark admitted. “I only have Sundays and Mondays off, but Sundays tend to get full up with necessary but boring shit. When the weather’s like this, though, yeah, I love coming down here.” He gave Sam a speculative glance, trying not to stare at his bod. “I’m trying to figure out why I don’t recall you from school. There weren’tthatmany kids in your year.”
“Ah.” Sam blushed. “I looked a bit different then. My hair was longer, for one, typical island surfer boy hair, long and curly. And I used to wear glasses. Thank goodness for laser eye surgery.”
Mark stared, trying to picture Sam. And then it hit him. His eyes widened in recognition.
“Oh my God. Sam Prince.” His mouth fell open.
Sam grimaced. “Oh shit.Nowyou remember me. And I can guess why.”
