Page 81 of Finley

“I said paler than usual. But you’ve taken care of that since you’ve been lying out on my deck practically naked for a week.”

As they shoved the kayak into the water and stepped inside in a practiced move, Daniel said, “I’m glad you noticed.”

“You’re kind of hard to ignore,” Brantley replied as they paddled out into the water.

And just like they did with everything else, the two of them slipped straight back into an easy rhythm as they weaved their way up through the mangroves along the familiar two and a half miles of winding waterways.

“YOU KNOW,IT’S polite to share,” Daniel said as he leaned across his towel and snatched the bag of potato chips out of his hand.

Brantley cocked his head to the side and whipped his hand out to take them back after Daniel had grabbed a handful. “It’s also polite to wait until someone offers you one.”

Munching down on the salt-and-vinegar goodness, Daniel grinned around his mouthful. “I take what I want—so sue me.”

“Ironic to think that, one day, you might actually represent an idiot who said that very line to the wrong person.”

“Yeah, yeah. You calling me an idiot?”

“Maybe. But you’re my idiot, so there’s that,” Brantley said with a wink. Then he bit down on a chip.

“This was nice,” Daniel said as he lounged back, his elbows resting on the towel as the sun started to set.

“Mhmm, it was,” Brantley agreed, reaching in the backpack to pull two bottles of water out. He tossed one to Daniel, and when he caught it, unsnapped it, and tipped it up to drink half of the container in one gulp, Brantley kept his eyes glued to Daniel’s tanned throat and Adam’s apple.

When he was finished and facing Brantley, Daniel gestured to the pocketknife lying on the pack between them. It was part of Brantley’s “survival kit” for whenever he did anything outdoors.

“You gonna go out yonder, catch a fish, and gut it for me like a real man?”

The exaggerated twang Daniel used had Brantley’s eyebrow rising.

“No,” he said. “I was going to open my bag, pull out the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I made, and maybe—if you’re lucky—share them with you.”

Chuckling, Daniel snatched up the pocketknife and got to his feet. As he walked up behind them where they’d placed the kayak on the sand and crouched, he flicked the knife open. But before he touched it to the surface, he looked back at Brantley and asked, “You don’t mind if I leave my mark, do you?”

Brantley was close to saying that he’d already left a permanent one over his heart, but shook his head.

Daniel turned back to what he’d been about to do and began scratching something on the inside of the kayak where he’d sat—at the front. When he was done, he stood and came back over to where Brantley was still sitting on his towel. Closing the knife, he tossed it on the bag. Then Daniel put his feet on either side of Brantley’s legs and knelt so he was straddling his thighs.

“Ah, okay. Please, take a seat.” Brantley laughed.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

He grabbed Daniel’s hips and pulled him farther up his body until he was directly over his groin, his arms around his neck.

“What did you write?” he asked before he nipped at Daniel’s jaw. When he squirmed above him, Brantley did it again. “What did you write?”

“Maybe I want it to be a surprise.”

Brantley kissed his way up to Daniel’s ear and ran a hand down to cup his ass. “Tell me, Finn…”

Daniel was grinding his hips against him, and the groan that slipped out of his throat made Brantley grin against his cheek.

“Ooh, must be something good…” he said, and then he flipped them so Daniel was on his back on the towel and Brantley was leaning over him. As he pressed a fierce kiss to Daniel’s parted lips, he arched against him. Then he asked again, “What did you write?”

“God, Brantley. Touch me.”

“I am touching you.”

“More…”