I’ve been checking it out for a couple of days now, and apparently only the fancy staff is allowed to sit there. Officetypes, therapists, supervisors. They look like the satire of a pretentious networking lunch. Yosh sits right in the center, looking like he’d rather crawl under the table and disappear. Erin and some guy I don’t recognize talk over him. His attention is fixed on a book thick enough to stop a door.
I keep observing him. He’s completely disconnected from the people around him; doesn’t even pretend to be social. Why isn’t he engaging? God, it’s intriguing. I want to know.
He flips a page and lifts a shiny red apple to his mouth. My focus sharpens, drawn to the way his front teeth sink into the crisp flesh, the way his lips press around it, pulling in the juice.
I swear I can hear it; the crunch of the bite, the slurp that follows. My fingers curl over the table as I shift just enough to keep my dignity intact.
Fuck.
Second boner already. This is becoming a pattern.
Not many guys manage that, and I’ve got to admit, it’s…refreshing.
Wait. Last year’s Berlin-basement trip.
I vaguely remember making out with a blond guy who thought he was Icarus, flying too close to the sun on God knows what. Later, I ended up with some leather-strapped Viking in the bunker’s voyeur section. My tongue had been down his throat before I realized he was already on his knees. And then, well, a blue-haired vixen had appeared, and that felt like the more interesting direction to take at the time.
That basement was one endless fever dream of hot sweaty bodies and poor life choices.
Thinking about that orgy isn’t helping the situation in my pants. Neither is that beautiful work of art sitting at the table on the other side of the pool.
As I watch him move, I wonder what the hell this is. I’ve always felt something for men, but I’ve only ever acted on it atparties. Still, that has to count for something, right? Either way, something’s changing, and apparently that change has a name. And a fucking heavenly body.
It makes me wonder if that’s the reason I felt so comfortable spilling my guts to him last night.
I’d been a wreck, and Yosh just held me there in his arms.Strong viking arms.
Yesterday is a haze. I hadn’t thought much of it, but now the smaller details return. The way his hands moved over my back, soft, steady, grounding.
And his scent…intoxicating. Herbal, sweet, like jasmine in a perfect Japanese water garden.
The midday heat is rising, or maybe that’s just me.
Is emotional growth supposed to come with this much sexual tension?
Tom, dial it down. You can't work on yourself and hit on your therapist at the same time.
Who am I kidding? I’m Tom McKenna.
I can do both.
I look around. Sad posh resort guests, sad posh staff, sad posh food. What the eff am I still doing here? I get up and take the stairs down to the beach, heading straight for the nearby dive bar.
There’s no way I’m settling for a plate of leafy greens when a greasy, juicy burger is out there waiting for me.
Chapter fifteen
Yosh
It’s late afternoon, and I’m still at my desk. My fingers are racing over the keyboard, transcribing notes from Wednesday’s meeting.
They’re moving on their own. Too fast. Way too fast.
I stop, clenching my hands into fists. My nails dig into my palms as I squeeze my eyes shut.
I need to slow down. Type like a normal person.
But I remember what happened when I hadn’t been fast enough. When I wasn’t good enough.
