Page 102 of Missed Steps

The fingers that pinched my nipple travel up until they’re brushing against my collarbone. Then my jugular. Mark presses, his pressure applied slowly, but firmly. I have to lean my head back to release enough of the pressure to breathe. My eyes are still shut. My breathing is laboured. My shorts are filling.

My back rests against Mark’s chest as my ass lies against his erection; I’m filling up fast, and he’s at half-mast.

“I love you,” I murmur. He could make me spill inside my shorts so easily. I have to trust that he won’t let me embarrass myself in front of everyone.

“You think if you act cute I won’t make a mess out of you?” Mark chuckles. His fingers tighten against my throat, and his other hand palms my hip bone.

The lotion bottle hits the tile with a thud. Mark’s warm thighs press against mine as he tugs me back. I let him move me around with a smile and end up with my head resting comfortably against his shoulder. He kisses my cheek and releases my neck. I relax against him, lifting my knees.

Mark reaches to the table next to us and picks up his own cocktail to sip.

“Are you working tomorrow?” Mark asks.

“Damien set up an interview with his accountant for me,” I tell him. “If it goes well, I’ll start as his assistant next month.” Chris’s accounts don’t take up much time, and though he was inclined to pay me a full working wage for barely part-time hours, I wouldn’t let him.

“Why can’t you just be a live-in boyfriend?” Mark grumbles, no real heat in his voice.

“If all I did was lie down all day, you’d be bored of me in half a second.”

“That’s slander.”

I chuckle, then take another sip of the poisoned drink Mark brought me. “I’d get bored, too. Speaking of, did you check out the hiking club info I sent you?”

“Why do we need a club? We’ll go ourselves.” Mark’s tone veers firmly into grumpy territory.

“How are you the same guy who played in dozens of team sports throughout college?” I wonder.

Mark wraps his arms around my waist, lightly massaging any bare skin his palms find. “I was part of the, ‘trying to get this damn twink to look at me’ club.”

I object. “Looking was never the issue.” I tilt my head, trying to get a look at Mark’s face but all I see is his blurred jaw. “I looked at you all the time. And I was so sure you hated me,” I admit.

“And I was sure you hated the fact that you fancied me,” Mark says. “And half the time, I thought you just hated me.”

“I never hated you.”

“Never hated you either, babe.” Mark kisses my cheek. “Fancied you from the moment we met.”

I preen in his arms.

“I talked to Damien the other day,” Mark says.

“Willingly?”

“He’s going to get some contractors out here and build a sunroom around the pool, and get some heating installed in it. That way, you can keep swimming after the temperature drops.”

“Uh…aren’t we renting?” I ask.

“That jerk bought the place,” Mark tells me casually. “He was going to buy whatever place we ended up living in.”

I blink. “Seriously?”

“I told you he’s controlling,” Mark says, but he doesn’t sound bothered. “But he’s not allowed over unless I invite him. I made him sign a contract.”

“What about if I invite him?”

Mark sighs. “He asked the exact same thing with a smug look. You need to stop being nice to him. He’s using it against me.”

“I mean, building a sunroom around the pool so I can keep swimming in winter is a pretty nice thing to do?” I eye up the blue water. My swimming prosthetic is propped up next to the back door, drying out. It has been getting a lot of use over the past few weeks. Swimming is an exercise I can do to exhaustion and not be sore in any way afterwards. It’s really, really nice having something like that again.