Page 34 of Elite Connections: an LGBTQ Romance Charity Anthology

I openmy eyes and stare at the ceiling fan spinning lazily, creating a welcome breeze. It’s hot. Waves lap softly against wood. The sweet aroma of flowers surrounds me. I brush my hands over the sheets, which are soft against my skin. The love child of a hum and a buzz moves closer and farther away again. I pinch my arm. Ouch. This isn’t a dream. I’m in Bora Bora.

The journey here was a blur, involving a jet, a limousine, and a boat. Despite sleeping on the plane, I collapsed into bed the moment we arrived and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

I have no idea what time it is, other than light o’clock. My internal body clock is also clueless. I lost track of how many time zones we crossed during our escapades from one country to another. I lift my left hand and wriggle my ring finger. The diamonds sparkle as they catch the light.

I push up onto my elbows. Shuttered doors to my right open straight onto a wooden terrace. Yawning, I remove the rings and pad to the en suite. Next to a shower is a free-standing bath, perfectly placed in front of another set of shuttered doors so that you would be able to see the sea while soaking in the bath. I will do that before we leave, but I’m longing for a shower right now. The water is refreshing, but when I step out, a wall of heat hits me. After drying quickly, I take a pair of knee-length swimming shorts out of my luggage and pull them on. I only packed one pair, assuming we’d end up staying at a hotel in Vegas with a swimming pool. Should I wear a T-shirt? It’s too hot. I find the sun cream, which I had the foresight to pack, and bring it with me as I explore my home for the next few days.

I have to go through the bathroom to get to the living area. The teak furniture mixes brilliantly with intricate Polynesian artwork. I suck in a breath. The view is breathtaking. The sea is clear and blue green. Across the bay, a lush green forest and dark grey mountains line the sandy beaches. Fluffy clouds hang in the bright blue sky. Two jet skiers zip back and forth across the water. This is what I imagined paradise would be.

Where is Harper?

I stroll onto the terrace. Two white deck chairs and a round table for two occupy the space outside my bedroom, an awning made of huge, dried leaves providing the necessary shade. Steps lead to a lower terrace, from which it’s easy to slip into the sea for a swim. Will the water be as warm as the air or blissfully cooler?

I go left, past a table for six in the corner of the terrace, which bends to the right and leads to a second bungalow. Is this all ours, or does the other bungalow belong to someone else?

“Morning, husband.” Harper waves at me.

He’s standing beside a splash pool, wearing tight-fitting swimming trunks, which leave nothing to the imagination. His body is long and lean. His chest is waxed, and he has a little muscle definition, enough to prove he takes care of himself. Fuck. He’s gorgeous. His hair is wet, and beads of water drip down his body. I briefly envision chasing the water droplets with my tongue but then mentally slap myself.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” He gestures to the bungalows and the view.

“Yes.”

“Still think you’re dreaming?”

I walk toward him. “I pinched myself to make sure I’m not.”

We stand awkwardly, Harper trailing his gaze over me, which makes me feel less guilty about gawping at him when I first saw him. Would it be inappropriate to kiss him again? Yes. Yes, it would.

“Are these both ours?” I point at the bungalows.

“Yup. So, if you wanted to, we could ignore each other while we’re here.”

Is he being serious? “I don’t want that,” I stammer.

He smiles. “Nor do I. I can recommend the splash pool if you’re hot. It’s not heated.”

Which doesn’t mean it’s cold, as the sun will warm the water throughout the day.

“Breakfast should be here any minute. I’m starving. You?” Harper asks.

My stomach rumbles. “I am now.”

His gaze falls on my left hand.

Shit. I forgot to put the rings on after showering. I hug my hand to my chest. “Sorry. I’ve never worn rings before.”

He shrugs. “It might be safer to leave them off if you want to go in the water.”

He’s wearing his wedding band. Guilt tugs at my stomach.

He removes his ring and takes it into the other bungalow, then returns to my side. “Now I’m being sensible too.”

Does Harper realise how sweet he is?

“Sun cream? Brilliant idea. Can I borrow some?”

I hand him the bottle.

He sits on one of the sun loungers and squeezes a blob of white cream into his palm. He works it into his skin slowly, starting with his arms, then his chest, moving his hand in circular motions. I shouldn’t be watching, and I definitely shouldn’t be practically drooling as he rubs the cream onto his thighs. He reaches behind himself to do his shoulders and then grins at me.

“Would you mind? I can’t reach the rest of my back.”

I don’t mind at all. “Sure.” I sit behind him, squeeze cream onto my hand, and then stare at his back.

“Something wrong?”

“No.” I put some lotion on his back. “All done.”

“Thanks. Want me to repay the favour?”

Do I want his hands caressing my back? To put sun cream on. I need to get my head out of the gutter. No matter how cute Harper is, this is a job. I’ve never crossed a line with a client yet, and I’m not about to start now, even if he is my husband. Fuck. I’m married. We’re married.

“You look shell-shocked again,” Harper says.

I blink. “Huh?”

“Try to look less overwhelmed and more in love when you meet my parents.” He winks. “Turn around.”

I turn my back to him. “What does someone who’s in love look like?”

Harper snorts. “Don’t ask me. I’ve never been in love. But I doubt they look like a rabbit caught in headlights.”

“By the time I meet your parents, I’ll have had a few days to get to grips with being married.”

Harper massages my shoulders. “Is everything moving too fast for you?”

“A little. The last time my life got turned upside down in the blink of an eye was when—” I grit my teeth.

“You came out to your parents.” Harper’s voice is soft.

“Yes.”

“I promise I’ll only turn your life upside down for the better.”

I dip my chin. “Thanks.” Strangely, I believe him.

“Would you tell me what happened?”

Why does he want to know? Then again, he’s my husband, so maybe I should tell him. “I was sixteen. I’d figured out I was gay a year earlier but had kept it to myself. It got to a point where I couldn’t keep it secret anymore. It was too hard. I was exhausted by holding it in. I was about to take my GCSE exams and needed to concentrate on them, not on watching what I said and did.”

“It sounds awful.”

I laugh bitterly. “It was. But in hindsight, keeping secrets was better than telling the truth.”

He’s still massaging my shoulders. He must have well and truly worked the sun cream in by now, but he doesn’t seem inclined to stop, and I don’t want to ask him to.

“I told my parents I was gay, and they threw me out. They tossed my school bag and some clothes out my window while I stood in the street, begging them to let me in.”

“Shit. What did you do?”

“I slept at friends’ houses until I finished my exams. Only for a night or two, never long enough to outstay my welcome with them or their parents. I managed to sneak my washing in with theirs, so I never had to turn up to school in dirty clothes.”

“You didn’t tell your teachers?”

“No.”

Harper sucks in a breath.

“As soon as I had my results, I got on a coach and went to London. I was young and stupid and thought that in a city that big I was sure to find work, and then I’d be able to afford somewhere to live.” I shake my head. “That didn’t happen, and I ended up living rough.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t even begin to imagine what that was like.”

Of course he can’t. He can afford to travel in a private jet and book a honeymoon in Bora Bora at a moment’s notice.

“Hard. Frightening. Cold.”

His hands slip off my shoulders.

“I got help from a charity that works with homeless teens. Thanks to them, I studied for my A levels and got enough points to go to university. Because my parents hadn’t supported me for three years, by the time I went to uni, I got financial help. They helped me turn my life around.”

“Which is why you volunteer now?”

“Yes.”

“How did you end up working for Elite Connections?”

“They headhunted me while I was at uni. I have no idea why they picked me or how I got on their radar, but working for them has been life-changing. I can support myself and give back to the charities that helped me.” I half turn so I can take the sun cream from him. “Thanks for doing my back.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for telling me all that. You didn’t have to.”

I shrug. “You’re my husband. I hope you don’t think less of me now you know.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Less of you? Bailey, you’re inspiring.”

My cheeks become warm. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Have you ever thought about contacting your parents?”

I shake my head fiercely. “I wasn’t hard to find for the first few months after they kicked me out. I was going to school every day, for fuck’s sake. They treated me like a leper because I was gay. Why should I give a damn about them?” I clench my fists. “I will never forgive them.”

Knocking floats through Harper’s bungalow, followed by a soft voice. “Room service for Mr and Mr Carr.”

Harper grimaces. “They know we’re on our honeymoon. I should tell them you’re Mr Sharp, not Mr Carr.”

I wave my hand. “It’s fine.”

He goes to answer the door while I finish putting sun cream on. By the time I’m done, the waiter has put a breakfast feast on the large table between the two bungalows. Harper gives the waiter a generous tip before sending him away.

“Still hungry?” he asks.

“Famished.”