Page 182 of Better When Shared
“Imogen,” he breathed, his arms encircling me.
When our lips met, I expected the gentle, affectionate kiss we’d shared for years. What I got instead was hunger—raw and urgent. Hamish’s mouth claimed mine with an assertiveness that made my knees weak, his tongue sliding against mine as one hand tangled in my hair. I gasped into his mouth, pressing closer, desperate to eliminate any space between us.
This wasn’t my careful, controlled husband. This was someone new—or perhaps someone who’d been there all along, waiting for permission to emerge. I tasted salt on his lips, felt the unfamiliar scratch of stubble against my chin, and wondered what other surprises awaited me on this island.
I pulled back, grinning up at him, thinking about the way he’d been looking at Makai. “This adventure guide guy really brings you out of your shell, doesn’t he?”
“Something like that,” Hamish muttered, cheeks flushing bright red. He dipped his head, lips brushing against my ear. “And he has a massive crush on you, wife.”
My cheeks burned red-hot as I glanced towards Makai. A crush? Didn’t seem likely.
“Ready to set sail?” Makai interrupted me before I could ask Hamish what he meant. I had so many questions, especially about the strange pride in my husband’s voice. Did he like that another man wanted me?
I stepped back, my lips still tingling. My husband looked beautifully disheveled. I wanted to drag him below deck and finish what we’d started, but Makai was already starting the boat’s engine, gesturing for Hamish to follow.
“Let me show you how to cast off,” Makai said, pointing to the lines securing us to the dock. “You’ll take the bow line while I handle the stern. Imogen, can you take the wheel? Just hold her steady.”
Hamish moved with surprising confidence, following Makai’s instructions without hesitation. When had my husband learned the vocabulary of sailing? He untied the line with careful precision, coiling it the way Makai demonstrated.
After they’d pushed off of the dock, Makai took over steering and I settled onto one of the cockpit benches. Hamish stood near the bow, his posture alert but relaxed, ready for the next instruction. Eager to please.
The thought made my cheeks heat as I reached into my bag and pulled out my book, thankful I’d picked one with a discreet cover.
“Beautiful day for sailing,” Makai called to me over the engine’s purr. “Wind’s perfect.”
The bay opened before us, water glittering under the late morning sun, the shoreline of San Juan Island curving in a lush green arc to our port side. Makai pointed ahead to a small dot of land in the distance.
“That’s where we’re headed. It’s a nature reserve with swimming and some amazing tidepools.” He turned to Hamish as he cut the engine. “Ready to raise the mainsail?”
My husband nodded, and what followed was like a choreographed dance, with Makai in the lead as Makai guided Hamish through the process of raising the main sail. They moved together with surprising coordination—Hamish pulling on lines while Makai adjusted the lines that controlled the boom, their bodies working in tandem. Makai’s hands occasionally covered Hamish’s, showing him the proper technique for securing a line or adjusting tension.
The wind caught the sail with a sharp snap, filling the canvas and immediately tilting the boat. I gripped the bench as we heeled over, but the men barely seemed to notice. They were too focused on trimming the sail to catch the perfect angle of wind.
“Take the helm,” Makai instructed, guiding Hamish’s hands to the wheel. “Keep the course I have marked, but feel how she responds to the wind.”
I watched my husband’s face as he gripped the wheel, the intensity in his eyes, the slight part of his lips as he concentrated. The flush to his cheeks every time Makai touched him.
The contents of my book weren’t helping. I’d reached a point where the heroine watches her two male companions swimming together, their initial rivalry dissolving into something far more interesting when they emerge from the water.
“That’s it,” Makai praised, standing close behind Hamish, occasionally reaching around to adjust his grip. “You’ve got a natural feel for it.”
Their bodies were almost touching.
I tried to remind myself that I found Makai irritating, but he was too handsome, too charming, and he slipped seamlessly into my fantasy. I imagined Makai’s mouth on Hamish’s neck as he guided Hamish’s hands on the steering wheel. I imagined his hands roaming down over Hamish’s body, his eyes beckoning me to join them.
“Fuck,” I whispered. I crossed my legs, pressing my thighs together and forced my attention back to my book.
The words blurred before my eyes as reality and fantasy merged. I glanced up to find Makai adjusting the jib while Hamish heldus steady on course. Sweat darkened the back of Hamish’s polo shirt, clinging to the muscles I knew lay beneath.
“Getting hot out here,” Makai announced, releasing the line he’d been adjusting. He grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head in one fluid motion, revealing the kind of torso that belonged in the pages of my novel—all defined planes and sun-kissed skin. His chest was mostly smooth, with a trail of dark hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his shorts.
I swallowed hard, pretending to focus on my book.
“You too, man. I’ve got sunscreen if you need it.” Makai held up a can of the spray stuff.
To my shock, my husband didn’t hesitate. He secured the wheel with one hand and pulled his shirt off with the other, dropping it onto the bench beside him. I couldn’t stop myself from staring. Hamish had always been fit in a lean, understated way, but it seemed his chest and shoulders had filled out, developing definition I’d never noticed before. Four days with Makai had already begun leaving their mark—a faint tan line at his neck, emerging muscle tone across his abdomen.
And when a laughing Makai walked up and doused him in the spray-on sunscreen, his muscles glistened in the sun like something out of a magazine. I forced my gaze away, and lost myself in the pages of my book for a while.
