Page 1 of Touchdown

Prologue

So here we were, dumped on a tropical island without any clothes or means of communication with the outside world. Our captors probably hoped Noah and I would while away our captivity in bed together.

A tempting prospect.

Too tempting...

It took most of the day to put together a bug-out kit. Once we left this place, we wouldn't be coming back. Why make it easy for them to scoop us up, pump us full of drugs, and drop us in some other random place?

Whoever they were.

And whatever high tech they used.

You couldn't turn off your body heat.

All you could do was get lost in a crowd of other people's body heat.

So let's go find that crowd.

My body believed that Noah and I couldn't be torn apart yet again. If one of us was taken, the other would be taken too. We were entangled now.

Acting on our hunger for each other wasn't a distraction, no matter what our keepers might think. Physical and sexual exhaustion silenced the mind's otherwise ceaseless chatter.

Noah was good for me.

Being with him was a strength, not a weakness.

Chapter 1

Yes. We had time for this. Kisses sweet with blueberry syrup. After so much time apart, we deserved every stolen moment we could take.

“Hate these stupid togas,” Noah confessed. “I feel like I should be drinking from a tube attached to a keg like a real frat boy.”

“Oh, they're not so bad.” Faking a leer, I slid my hand beneath his hem. “I have to appreciate the easy access. It almost makes me wonder why I passed on Greek life.”

I didn't really wonder. The hothouse environment of fraternity row would've busted me out of my closet before I was ready. But Noah didn't need to hear about the first-world problems of a gay college quarterback.

When he shifted his hips in a sassy tease, the pillowcase lumpy with supplies shifted too. I toyed with the knot that held it over his right flank.

He nuzzled at the side of my jaw. “We're never going to get out of here at this rate.”

“Fair, but consider this.” I abandoned the knot to squeeze a more strategic spot. “Isn't it a little dangerous to go hiking around with that thing sticking out?”

“Hmm.”

It was probably another hour before we finally began our descent.

We walked slowly at first as we adjusted to the bounce and sway of the swollen pillowcases. The granola bars were only beating up themselves, but the canned salmon was going to leave a bruise.

Note to self: Turn the pillowcases into backpacks at the next rest stop.

The bare feet motivated us to step carefully. We didn't want to step on stones, twigs, or bad-tempered snakes who only looked like twigs. That slowed us down.

As you'd expect from a guy who lived in a tree, Noah was an adaptable outdoorsman. After a few hitches and re-ties, he was moving with his usual grace.

I let him get a little ahead of me. Nothing to do with how tasty his firm glutes looked as they pumped beneath the shifting waves of the toga.

Once we were into the trees, we couldn't see the ocean or much of the sky. We were more closed in, which had the paradoxical effect of making the island feel bigger.

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