Page 35 of Elite Connections: an LGBTQ Romance Charity Anthology

We spendthe next few days working on our tans and getting to know each other better. I tell myself it’s so we can withstand my mother’s inevitable questioning, but is that true?

I treat Bailey to dinner at sunset on a motu, which we get to by boat. The next day, I hire a boat which takes us to three perfect spots for snorkelling, allowing us to see all manner of colourful fish, stingrays, and lemon sharks. I’ve done excursions like this before, but the wonder in Bailey’s beautiful blue eyes hits me harder than I expected. I want to give him more experiences while we’re married so that I can see the joy on his face.

“Have you ever been on a jet ski?” I ask on our final morning in Bora Bora.

“No.”

“Would you like to?”

“Um, sure. Will I be riding with a guide?”

“If by a guide you mean me, yes.”

Bailey nips his lower lip between his teeth.

“No need to look so nervous. I’m a pro.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I am. I’ve been jet skiing since I was a kid.”

He narrows his eyes. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Oh, plenty of things. But when I was younger, I wanted to be James Bond, so I took up lots of dare-devil hobbies, like mountain climbing, skiing, parachuting, and jet skiing whenever I had the chance to do it.”

“Wow.”

“It’s not that impressive. I gave up most of those hobbies after a half dozen times. They all lost their charm when I realised I couldn”t become James Bond.”

Bailey laughs.

“What were your hobbies?”

“Uh, football, in school. Art. Photography. I used to enjoy combining art and photography to make collage pieces.” His gaze becomes distant. “I haven’t touched a paintbrush or camera in years. Other than the one on my phone.”

My guess would be ten years. My chest tightens.

“Jet skiing?” I ask to lighten the mood. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“I barely know you.”

“You know me better than you did a week ago.”

He throws his head back as he laughs brightly and loudly. “That’s true. I know you’re impulsive and slightly crazy, and I think Clive had a point when he told me you were like a puppy on speed.”

I gasp. “Clive said that?” I clasp my chest over my heart and stagger. “I’m hurt.”

Bailey laughs harder. “It’s true.”

I stand straight and shrug. “Eh, maybe. My exuberance is part of my charm, don’t you think?”

He stares at me for at least thirty seconds, then finally smiles. “Yeah, it is.”

I rub my hands together. “We’re going jet skiing.”

“I haven’t said yes yet.”

“But you will. Come on.” I grab his hand, pull him off the deck chair he’s lounging on, and drag him through the bungalow onto the long, winding deck that leads to the island.

“You’ve already booked one, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” Why deny it?

“Do you always get what you want?”

I grin. “Yes.”

Bailey is quiet as we walk along the decking. Am I showing off? Probably, but I don’t know how to be anything other than myself.

“I’m going to be sad to leave,” I say when I can’t stand the silence any longer.

“Me too.” Bailey stops, pulling me up short.

His palm is soft against mine. I like the way our fingers are twined together. We turn to the ocean. Bailey breathes in deeply. His eyes are even bluer with the water reflected in them. He’s so damn pretty. I’ve enjoyed getting to see him in nothing but swimming shorts most of the week. In the evening, he puts a short-sleeved shirt or a T-shirt on, but during the day, when we’re relaxing on the deck, he’s topless. He’s all soft lines and delicate limbs, with the slightest hint of a six-pack and a dusting of pale hair that trails from beneath his belly button and vanishes into the waistband of his shorts.

“We can stay longer,” I say. “Or come again for our six-month anniversary.”

He sniggers. “I don’t think anyone celebrates half-year anniversaries.”

“Why not? They should. Any excuse for a celebration or a holiday, that’s my motto. What about your birthday? Shit.”

“What?”

“When is your birthday? Mother will want to know it so she can add it to her social calendar. We’ll have to go out with my parents for a meal on their birthdays and ours.”

Bailey chuckles. “Noted.”

“When is your birthday?”

“Fifth of April. Yours?”

I consign the date to my memory. “Twenty-first of August.”

“You’re a summer baby.”

“Yes. Maybe that’s why I have such a sunny disposition.”

“I don’t think it works that way,” Bailey says in a stage whisper.

“Sure it does. I was born at eleven fifty-nine a.m. Father always joked I was born in time for lunch.”

Bailey turns his stare away from the ocean onto me. “You’re close to them, aren’t you?”

“My parents?”

He nods.

“Yes. I adore them, but they also annoy the shit out of me. Are all families like that?”

He shrugs, and his dazzling smile droops, losing its fire. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry. There I go, putting my foot in things.”

“It’s fine. It’s good you’re close and they’re accepting.”

“They are, which is one of many reasons they’re going to adore you.”

He tilts his head. “Do we want them to adore me? Surely, I’m going to break your heart in a year.”

“No. I’m going to break yours. I’m the one who’s not cut out for married life, remember?”

Bailey pinches his lips together. He does that staring-at-me-without-speaking thing for several seconds again. “I remember. Jet skiing?”

“I knew you were up for it.”

We start walking again.

“I’m not sure about that. Don’t go too fast, okay?”

The jet ski hire hut is a short way down the beach.

“Ah, Mr Carr, your jet ski is ready for you.” The rental guy, Dion, hands us a life jacket each.

“Something tells me they don’t normally let guests go out alone on these things,” Bailey said.

“They don’t.”

“But you’ve been here before?”

“Yes, and I know what I’m doing.”

“Don’t worry, Mr Carr,” Dion says to Bailey. “You’re in good hands with your husband.”

“That’s good to know.”

Once we’re wearing our lifejackets, we get onto the jet ski as Dion holds it steady. I fasten the safety lanyard around my wrist and attach it to the engine shut-off. If I fall off the jet ski, the lanyard will remove the clip from the switch, and the engine will turn off. Bailey puts his hands lightly on my waist.

“Okay?” I ask.

“Yes.” His voice has a slight tremor.

“I’ll take care of you.” I look over my shoulder. Why does the happy gleam in his eyes make my heart flutter?

I pull away from the jetty slowly, then pick up speed as we head into open water. I don’t go too fast. This is Bailey’s first time on a jet ski after all. We go past the bungalows. I take my hand off the handlebar long enough to wave at ours, and Bailey clings to me tighter.

“Try to relax and enjoy yourself.” I have to raise my voice above the rumble of the engine and the jet ski’s smack on the water’s hard surface.

“I’m trying.”

I turn us towards the other side of the bay so we’re zipping across the sea towards the beach, forest, and mountains. Not that I go that far. We travel in a large loop, allowing us to see every part of the bay from a new angle.

“Want to go around again?” I ask. “A little faster this time?”

“Uh, sure.”

“You can say no.”

“Will you slow down if I ask you to?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, then. Let’s try a little faster.”

Grinning, I increase the throttle. Bailey gasps, wraps his arms around my waist, and presses his cheek against my back.

“Have you got your eyes closed?” I ask.

“No.”

“You have. Open them.”

“Nope. I’m good.” He tightens his grip.

“Want me to slow down?” Say no. Say no. I like the way he’s clinging to me.

“No.”

I continue on our second loop of the bay. After a while, Bailey lifts his cheek from my back but doesn’t loosen his grasp. Does he have his eyes open? Is he enjoying the view and the way the wind is rushing through his hair? I am.

I make a third loop and then slow us down before heading towards a motu, a tiny desert island with nothing but the odd palm tree and bush on it. We get off in the shallows and, together, pull the jet ski onto the sand so it can’t drift away and strand us.

Bailey collapses onto his hands and knees. I’m surprised he doesn’t start kissing the sand.

“Are you all right?”

He nods. “Wobbly legs.”

I sit beside him. “Did you have fun?”

“Yes.” He takes his life jacket off and sits with his arms around his raised knees. “Thank you.”

I remove my life jacket, then nudge his shoulder with my own. “I’m glad.”

“It was scary but exhilarating.”

“It’ll be less scary next time.”

He widens his eyes. “Next time?”

“We have to get back to the island.”

“Oh, yes.”

“And if we come here for our sixth-month anniversary or your birthday, I’ll treat you to another ride.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Being married to you is going to be a wild ride, isn’t it?”

I chuckle. “I hope so.” I put my hand over his, even though I shouldn’t. “Are you ready to go back to reality?”

He purses his lips. “No. These last few days have been like a wonderful dream.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? It’s?—”

“Not a dream?”

“No.” I tickle him right below his ribs. “When are you going to start believing me?”

He cackles and tries to fend me off, but I slip my fingers through his defences and tickle him more savagely.

“I’m not going to stop until you tell me you believe me. Convincingly.”

He falls onto the sand, laughing and writhing as I move my fingertips over his skin relentlessly.

“I believe you,” he says between gasps.

“Really?”

“You’re insane!”

“Yes. Say it again. With feeling.”

He rolls away from me, jumps to his feet, and runs behind a palm tree. We dance around it, him getting away from me before my fingers connect with his skin.

“Tell me you believe me.”

“I believe you. Truce, please?”

I cross my fingers behind my back. “All right. Truce.”

He relaxes and comes closer. I grab him around the waist, spin him around so his back is to my chest, and attack him again. He collapses, taking me with him to the sand. The air is knocked from my lungs. We end up in a heap, with him half on me. I stop tickling him and catch my breath. We’re closer than we should be. My pulse kicks up a few notches, and my cock stirs.

“That wasn’t a truce,” Bailey whispers.

“I made you laugh, didn’t I?”

“Yes.” He glances over his shoulder.

I want to close the distance between his lips and mine and kiss him.

“Thank you.” He rolls to his feet and then holds his hand out.

I accept it and let him help me up.

He brushes the sand off his skin and shorts. “We should head back.”

“We should.”

We put our lifejackets on, push the jet ski into the shallows, and get on.

He wraps his arms around my waist and whispers in my ear, “I believe you.”

I grin. Now that was said with feeling.