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“Just after seven.” I reach out a hand and cup his face. “You look younger when you’re asleep.”
In answer, he slides a hand to the back of my head and pulls me toward him for a long, leisurely kiss. I love the way he does that, lazy and possessive.
“I think we’ve still got time to cram in two more sessions,” he murmurs, guiding my hand down to his morning erection.
Unable to resist, I give him a stroke—ooh, he’s so hard, like an iron bar, wonderful—then lean back with a sigh. “I can’t. I need to get back.”
His eyes widen. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’ve had several urgent messages from Titus. He wants to see me at nine, something to do with the offer from the English company.”
“You can’t meet him this afternoon? Or have a Zoom call?”
“He wants Mack there too. I think it’s important,” I say gently.
He meets my eyes for a long moment. Is he also wondering if this is it? Or is he thinking about where we go from here?
But he just says, “No worries, I know how it is. Come on, then. We might as well shower and get going.”
We go into the bathroom and clean our teeth while the shower heats up. Our eyes meet in the mirror, but he doesn’t smile. Conscious that I’m naked, I feel suddenly shy. Even though he’s my best friend, and we’ve shared such intimate moments over the past few hours, he still feels like a stranger in this setting. The Huxley I know is jovial, laid back, and always laughing; I don’t know this guy who looks at me with such serious, intense eyes.
We get into the shower together, and he turns me so I’m under the water, wets my hair, then pours some shampoo onto his hand. He massages it into my hair, his hands gentle, and the feel of his fingers grazing over my scalp sends me tingling all over.
I look down. He has an erection.
“You’re insatiable,” I scold, pouring some shower gel into my hand, then smoothing it over his chest and down to his groin.
“You’re naked, wet, and slippery,” he says with some exasperation as I raise an eyebrow. “What did you expect?”
“It wasn’t a complaint.” I close my hand around him and stroke him several times. God, he’s as hard as a rock, long and thick. Even though I only had him hours ago, I feel a twinge deep inside, and I can’t help but raise up onto my tiptoes and kiss him.
He sighs, then pours shower gel over my shoulders, and spreads it over my skin. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he mumbles as he strokes my breasts.
“You thought we could get naked and shower together and not get turned on?”
“I overestimated my power to resist you.” His lips twist.
He tucks a finger under my chin and holds me there as his eyes search mine. He looks wistful, and I guess he’s thinking about our trip coming to an end, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he presses me up against the tiles and kisses me.
His mouth sears across mine, and his hands glide over my skin, slippery from the shower gel, making me shiver. After a while, he slips a hand down my front to between my legs, and he arouses me there until I’m aching with need.
“Put your arms around me,” he instructs, his voice husky with desire. I lift them around his neck, and hold tightly as he lifts me and pins me against the tiles. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he lets me slide down until I’m impaled on him.
Between fiery hot kisses, he fixes his gaze on mine as he thrusts into me, and I find myself unable to look away from his gray eyes. It’s like he’s branding himself onto my brain, and I know that from now on, when we’re apart, I’m not going to be able to forget the image of him driving us both toward the edge.
“Open them,” he demands when I close my eyes as I feel my orgasm approaching, and I’m powerless to do anything but look hazily up at him while I come, pulsing around him. He stops moving to enjoy the moment, and it’s only when I’m done that he begins to thrust again. His climax claims him shortly afterward, and I tighten my thighs and clench inside, making him groan and rest his forehead against mine.
“Four times,” I whisper, sinking my hands into his wet hair. “You’re a fucking marvel, Oliver Huxley.”
“I’m a shadow of my former self. A dry husk.” He withdraws and lowers my legs to the floor. “You’ve milked me dry.”
“And enjoyed every minute of it.” I pull him down for a kiss, and we stand there for a long time, under the hot water, while the steam swirls around us, enclosing us in our own private world.
*
We leave as soon as we’re dressed, deciding to skip breakfast. We’re both quiet as Huxley flies us back. I pretend to be captivated by the view, but the truth is that I feel emotional and confused, and I’m not sure what to say to him. It’s the same guy who flew us to the island, and yet I look at him in a very different way now. When I glance down at his hand where he grips the cyclic, I can see that same hand gliding over my body, brown against the paleness of the skin I rarely reveal to the sun. The smell of his aftershave makes me think of when I kissed down his neck to his chest, and the muscles that lie beneath his shirt. Everything about him makes me think of sex.
He lands at Mechanics Bay, and we walk over to his obsidian Merc and get in. He buckles himself in and turns the engine on, then hesitates and looks across at me.
