Page 44 of Commitment Issues
“Yes, she’s beautiful isn’t she. I don’t suppose you’ve ever been on anything quite like this, have you?”
My back stiffens as Gavin comes up behind us, and my teeth grind at the very slight emphasis he’s laid onyou. He’s standing close, too close, enough for his breath to brush against the back of my neck. Freddie’s hand tightens in mine, before he swings us around.
“No way. The last time I was on a proper boat was when I was fifteen and my first boyfriend smuggled me onto his dad’s fishing smack. It was supposed to be romantic, like we were two stowaways, but I just got seasick and ended up smelling like an old cod.”
“Fifteen?” Gavin raises his brow. So, just a tiny handful of years back, he may as well add.
“Hmm, when I was young and innocent.”
“Well, I think you’ll find the experience a little different. Nothing fishy about this boat.”
Something in Gavin’s tone crawls along my spine, something that goes beyond him having a dig at Freddie’s age. Gavin’s eyes fix on Freddie, almost in challenge, but Freddie holds his gaze, the smile on his face big and bright and about as warm as the cold North Sea he loves so much.
“I’m more than happy to show Freddie the ropes. And I want to know more about this story.” I slip my hand from Freddie’s, and coiling my arm around him, rest my palm lightly on his hip. He turns his attention to me, the movement small but hugely dismissive of Gavin, and as though he’s already been forgotten.
“Oh yes, you’re very good at showing me the ropes.”
Freddie smiles, slow and secretive, and tilts his head a little, gazing up at me through his long lashes. It’s all for show, all for display, everything an act. It’s all part of the ‘I’ve moved on’ message I want thrust into Gavin’s face. But I can’t give a damn about Gavin, because in this moment it’s just me and Freddie, our gazes locked, my heart pumping hard as my cock stirs.
“All aboard everybody.” Andrew’s deep voice is a klaxon, jerking me out of my reverie. Freddie blinks hard as though he’s just woken up from a deep sleep.
“Andrew can be a bossy boots when he’s in organising mode.” My throat’s as rough and dry as sandpaper. “Come on, darling, let’s do as he says.” Without another glance at Gavin, I ease Freddie forward.
“Are you okay?” Freddie asks quietly when Gavin’s out of earshot. “Do you think he’s guessed? That comment about something being fishy—”
“I think he’s just digging. He’s being typically Gavin. He wants to get under your skin. It’s what he does. I warned you, remember?” My words are more confident than I feel, because Gavin does have a way of getting under your skin and just digging and digging and digging. Well, he can dig all he damn well wants.
We all clamber aboard the yacht and make our way to the top deck which is mostly uncovered apart from a small area towards the back. There’s more than enough seating for everybody, the benches strewn with cushions and, in the middle of the deck, a couple of rows of sun beds.
“Oh, I’m going to bagsy one of these.” Freddie claims one of the sun beds by dumping his rucksack on it, pulling the one next to it closer. “And this one’s for you.”
Without a further word he strips off his T-shirt, revealing lean muscles and the hint of a six pack. Like on his legs, there’s a scattering of golden hairs which catch the late morning sun.
Stretching his arms high above his head, he lets his head fall back and his thick, blond hair’s a heavy cascade of gold. His cut-offs, clinging so mouthwateringly to his arse, slip down his hips a little, revealing the V that disappears below the waistband. My throat thickens, along with my dick. He’s beautiful. Blond and pale and beautiful, shining like a beacon.
Real or imagined, a hush settles around us. Freddie’s a thing of beauty and all drink him in. But I don’t want that. A tightness grips my stomach, primitive and possessive. This boy’s mine, for a few days only, but he’s mine.
“If I’m not going to end up looking like a tangy cheese Dorito,” Freddie says, “you’re going to have to put some cream on my back.”
I try to catch up with what he’s saying, fighting my way out of the possessive, irrational fog that’s gripped me.
“What? Oh, yes, yes of course.” I clear my throat of the hot gravel that’s lodged there, as he thrusts a bottle of sun screen at me, before flopping down on the sun bed. He wriggles around, getting comfortable, loosening his shorts and edging them down a fraction, exposing the start of the upward curve of his arse.
He looks at me over his shoulder, his heavy hair falling across his brow and half hiding his eyes, and smiles, that same slow and secretive smile he’d given me earlier.
“And I can do you, if you like?”
Sniggering breaks out behind me and I swing round ready to face Gavin, but it’s one of the guys we’d briefly shared the breakfast table with. His smile’s wide, friendly, and good natured and he gives me an exaggerated wink as if to saylucky you. The tension that grips me falls away and I smile back.
Yes, I am lucky. I open up the sun screen as the yacht edges away from the marina and sails out into the open waters of the Mediterranean.
