Page 48 of Hired By the Enemy
After we’ve sucked each other off—in one of the hottest things ever because it appears it is physically impossible for Matthew and me to have sex that can be categorized anywhere below the level of sizzling—I lie with my arm around him, his head on my chest.
“We should get up soon, or we’ll miss the start of the treasure hunt,” I say.
“Mmm.” Matthew nuzzles into me.
I run my fingers through his hair, feeling the softness of the strands under my fingertips. How can simply lying here with Matthew O’Conner in my arms fill me with such…happiness?
The thought catches me.
This is just two guys who have worked out they’re sexually compatible and, as part of that, have moved from hatred to a grudging like of each other.
I’m stupid to think it could be more than that, right?
I shift slightly.
“Come on, let’s go kick some ass in the treasure hunt,” I say.
“You seem mightily confident in our abilities,” Matthew says as we throw on some clothes.
“I’m a professional treasure hunter, haven’t I told you that?”
“No. You failed to mention that fact,” he says as he buttons his shirt.
“You and me can take on the world, baby.” The words slip out of me without thinking, and I cringe immediately, but Matthew just smiles.
Okay, we might not be up for world domination yet, but I still feel good about our chances as we stand around listening to the resort staff explain the rules of the treasure hunt. Each team will receive a pirate map of the island, and there’s a series of clues leading to varied challenges we have to do before we receive the next clue.
Combining my athletic skills with Matthew’s brain has worked for us in every other challengeso far.
Paul comes sidling up to us. I can’t help noticing the way Matthew stiffens.
“You guys looking forward to this?” Paul asks.
“Definitely,” I say.
“Just a heads-up, Annette and I are members of an orienteering club, so I think we’ve got your number in this activity.”
“Don’t write checks you can’t cash, old man,” I say.
Paul lifts a brow, but before he can say anything, the resort staff hands us our first clue.
Go to soar above the trees, where you’ll get a thrilling ride along the breeze.
My forehead creases. “What do they mean: a thrilling ride along the breeze?”
Matthew’s eyebrows knit together. “Isn’t there a zip-lining course somewhere?”
“I think I spotted a high-ropes course at the edge of the resort. It must be that.”
“Oh goody, a high ropes course. Just what I need.”
“What’s wrong with that?” I ask because, from his expression, it’s obvious something is very wrong.
“Uh…heights aren’t exactly my thing, remember?” he says.
Fuck. I do remember that. The memory of Matthew once freezing on the high diving board at our local pool comes back to me. If I remember correctly, I taunted him about it for months afterward.
“I’ll be right there next to you,” I say.
