Page 106 of In Step

“I don’t care.” I rolled us to our sides, cracking my head on the lower railing. “Ow, fuck!”

His addled gaze jerked to mine. “You okay?”

“Never better.” I wrapped my hand around both our cocks and groaned into the pleasure. “God, you feel good like that.” I ran my palm over both our slits to catch some slick, and he leaped in my grasp as our cocks glided together in that first delicious slide.

“Fair warning,” I gasped as I settled into a rhythm. “This isn’t going to be pretty.”

“Jesus,” he cursed open-mouthed against my ear. “Just get us there before I embarrass myself.” Then he covered my mouth with his and kissed me like a starving man. Kissed me until heat pooled in my belly and the thrum of orgasm pulsed in my balls. Kissed me until I tore my mouth from his and threw back my head, arching and grunting into my release as I shot between us. He followed a few strokes later, groaning into my neck as he thrust into my hand and spilled hot and thick on my stomach.

Then, panting and gasping for air, a film of sweat lying slick on our half-naked bodies, we fell apart on our backs and snatched some oxygen and the sniff of a cool breeze, holding hands while our hearts ticked down.

And when I could finally form words, I snorted and turned on my side to face him. “I think we missed the hello part.”

A huge grin broke over his face and he stretched a hand toward me. “Hello, Mr Martin.”

I laughed and shook it. “Hello, Mr Tyler.”

And for the next ten minutes, that’s how we stayed: holding hands, on our backs, on the deck, trousers around our thighs, searching for the first star of the evening while listening to the deep waters of Painted Bay creep in to whisper over the sand.

EPILOGUE

Six months later

Abe

“Where are you taking me?”Kane slid his arm through mine and pressed against my side as we fought the pedestrian crush. London was a nightmare at this hour on a Saturday night, especially in the West End where people packed out bars and restaurants after the shows.

“Oh, are we going on a Ripper walk?” he pressed.

I gave him a horrified, sidelong look. “Absolutely not.”

“A restaurant? A gay bar?”

“Just be patient.” I went to kiss his cheek, but he turned to catch my mouth at the last minute.

“Mmm. Much better.” He licked his lips and winked, and I briefly considered pushing him into the nearest hotel and changing plans completely.

We hadn’t seen each other for almost three weeks before he flew into Heathrow two days before, his first-ever long-haul flight. Since then, we’d barely left the bed in my tiny London flat, other than coming up for air to forage in a couple of second-hand bookstores for Kane. We’d been too busy making up for lost time. But I’d been planning this particular night for three weeks, and I wasn’t about to be sidetracked.

“Keep moving, or we’ll be late.” I hustled him along the footpath.

“Jeez, this is supposed to be a holiday,” he grumbled but picked up the pace, a smile tugging at his lips.

He’d squeezed ten days out of his precious vet tech studies and joined me in London, planning a reunion with his sister while he was here. Jacklyn was keen to show Kane the new flat she’d bought with her share of the farm money and to introduce him to his nephew. They spoke on the phone every week or two, and I was thrilled Kane had his sister back in his life again.

Kane’s father had thankfully disappeared into the ether once all the documents were signed. Kane heard he’d bought three acres just out of Whangarei and was still drinking himself into an early grave. No surprise there. He didn’t talk about it much, but I knew the pain inflicted by his father was still free floating in his life. But he was finally talking about seeing a therapist and I was encouraging him for all I was worth.

Even after Jacklyn’s share had been deducted from the sale money, there’d been enough for Kane to pay his school fees, get a new car, and buy a run-down two-bedroom cottage in Painted Bay, which we’d moved into two months before. My brother and his family came to the housewarming along with my mother and half of Painted Bay.

I’d spent the entire weekend caught between grinning like a loon at how my mother welcomed Kane like another son and filled with incredible sadness that it might well be the last time she travelled out of Wellington. All the new faces and excitement clearly rattled her, and she needed a lot of reminding where she was and who she was with. And Con and I were pleased to get her on that plane home to Wellington.

She was still managing in her own house, but only just, and we’d finally put her name down for an apartment at the staged residential facility she’d decided on. On her insistence, she’d started going to their day groups to familiarise herself. I didn’t want to think too much about what her future held, but we’d handle whatever it was as a family, Kane included.

“If I’ve dressed up for nothing, there’ll be words said, understand?” Kane grumped adorably, pulling at the billowy black silk shirt I’d bought for him. “And this cost way too much, by the way.”

And worth every penny.He looked downright edible with the sexy shirt tucked into his fuck-me black stretch trousers, all those shiny blond waves bouncing on his shoulders in the surprisingly warm London summer evening.

“Stop complaining. You’re sexy as shit, and I’ll be fighting half the guysandall the women off you all night. Come on.” I bossed him across the narrow street, dodging traffic and earning a few angry horn blasts in the process. Then I steered him down a tiny alleyway between an ancient-looking pub and a West End costume designer until we arrived at a lone bouncer standing next to a painted black door set into a nondescript brick wall.

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