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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ELLIOT

“Damn,” I say as I catch my breath. “Hell of a kiss, Hank.”

Hank takes another step backward. “Shit. I’m sorry, Elliot. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You didn’t do that,” I tell him. “We did that.” I bite down on my lip, my heart still pounding. “And we don’t have to stop.”

Hank swallows. “I think, probably, we should,” he manages. He becomes aware of himself and puts his hands over his erection. I take a step back and halfway cover myself, too, pretending at decency, while I try to pull my senses back together.

Nearly died. Missed our rescue. Hank makeout.

I put my hands on my knees as my head spins. “Okay. Sure.”

“Excuse me,” Hank says, “but I’m feeling a need to return to my clothes.”

He quickly takes off toward our new shelter, and I follow, processing.

That kiss was a revelation. Nearly dying again sent an electric current through my veins, and when our lips touched, every jolt of it sparked.

I’m horny for Hank. I want more of him.

And he pulled away. Shit.

When I get to the shelter, Hank stands there in his boxer briefs. “This is a real disaster,” he says.

I think for a moment he means the kiss, but then the reality of the helicopter comes rushing back to me.

“It’s very not good,” I agree as I pull on my dry underwear. “We must have drifted far, if it took them days to find us.”

Hank crosses his arms over his chest. “And now the search party has passed us by.” When I step closer, he tilts his eyes to me, and his posture eases. “Elliot… We should also check in about that kiss.”

“Right,” I say, glad he’s not trying to totally ignore it, even if he is about to shoot me down.

“I’m not sure what came over me,” he says, speaking carefully. “I guess I was caught up in the moment. But we’re not in the state to be doing something like that right now. We’ve nearly died multiple times, including ten minutes ago, and neither of us is thinking clearly.”

Disappointment sinks in me, but I nod. “I believe I’m in a great state for being horny, as a matter of record. But I respect if you’re not.”

Hank puts his pants on. “If we’re risking death, making out is a horrible distraction,” he says.

“Or if we’re about to die, we might as well get laid,” I counter.

“That’s a very Elliot way to look at it,” he says.

I smile at him. “Trying to reason away the fact that we’re hot together, that’s a very Hank way of approaching things.”

He huffs, but I realize he’s inched closer to me, too.

“I do think you’re hot,” I add for extra clarity. “And I’m pretty sure you’re into me, too.”

“Just because you’re sexy to me...” He trails off, looking like he regrets the phrasing. “I’m the older one. Not to mention that you’re my boss’s son. I bear some responsibility, Elliot?—”

This time, I cut him off. “You can reject me for any reason you want, but please not those two. I am fully capable of making my own choices for my own reasons, thank you very much. And I typically don’t run this sort of thing by my father first.”

Hank snorts. “Trust me. I’m aware that you’re going to make your own choices for your own reasons. But it’s also true that I am older, Elliot,” he emphasizes. “Ten years older. And more experienced at wilderness survival, too.”

“And I’m younger and hornier, and very down for a little forbidden fun.

” We’re close enough now that everything feels loaded again, but I manage to rein it back in.

“So the offer definitely remains on the table. Think about it. But considering you’ve already given me a lovely spa morning, I guess I owe you a labor-filled afternoon, right? ”

“Right. Survival and rescue.” Hank lets out a relieved breath. “Fires and beach signals. That’s what matters.”

He was the one who kissed me first, so I’m hoping that with a little time, he’ll come around again.

If we’re going to be stuck here anyway, we might as well enjoy it the best we can.

And the more I think about it, a slightly scandalous, totally unexpected fling with my dad’s employee sounds like a great way to do just that.

“Cool,” I say with a nod as I put on my pants, too. “I’m with you. For the rest of the day, we’re just flipping wood.” I shake my head. “But not like that. We might make three X’s in the sand, but we’re keeping it rated PG-13.”

Hank half-smiles. “Good. Yes.”

We head back up toward the peak. Each of us is covered in bruises and red marks, and Hank has a slight limp.

I struggle over some rocks, my arms exhausted. The sun keeps getting brighter, and I have to squint as sweat forms on the back of my neck.

When we reach the wood stacks, now streaked with soot and ash, I lean against a tree to catch my breath. “I wonder if near-death experiences usually make people horny.”

Hank wipes sweat off his face. “In that case, it’s not personal.”

I turn a piece of wood, and Hank rotates some branches.

“It’s not like I’d be horny for just anyone,” I clarify. ‘If I were stranded here with like…my high school gym teacher, I’d still think Mr. Dawson was atrocious.”

Hank continues working. “Well, I’m usually not interested in younger guys. So perhaps there is something to the circumstances.”

I note the subtext that he is interested in me, though.

I pull apart a wood stack, spreading the half-burned pieces back out. “It’s probably biological,” I say. “Knowing death might be imminent, our bodies want to mate.”

Hank looks up at me, a flush under his beard from exertion. “If you think my body was going to have the energy for anything like mating, you were going to be sorely disappointed.”

I laugh and flip a few more branches. We meet in the middle and stand under the bright sun.

“Your chest is pretty scratched,” Hank mumbles.

“So is your arm,” I point out.

He looks at his injury like he’s seeing it for the first time. I gently rest my fingertips on his arm, and he sucks in a soft breath as I stroke his skin near the scratches, comforting him.

“That okay?” I ask.

“Yes. Feels good,” he murmurs. Hank glances back to me. “What was I saying?”

“We were talking about being too exhausted for proper sex.”

He rubs the back of his head, pulling his arm away. “Right. I think it’s time for a water break.”

I follow him to the creek, where we both sit immediately and cup water to our mouths.

Hank looks up at me. “That tree,” he says.

“The helicopter.”

We sit glumly and drink more creek water. When I’m revived a bit, I stand.

“How do we make signals on the beach?” I ask, returning to business like we agreed. “Do you know a wilderness man protocol for that?”

“Like we discussed, three X’s work,” he says. “There’s that clear stretch of sandy beach with all the tiny white pebbles. It’s probably the best place for the color contrast.”

“More hauling sticks. At least I know a fallen tree full of them nearby.”

Hank rubs his beard. “Anything dark that will stand out against the sand, we should be able to use.”

I tap my chin. “There’s a good seaweed patch over there, too, for fuel. We could probably get a system worked out. And we’ll have the clams we harvested once the shelter fire is going.”

Hank pushes himself to his feet. “Right. Nowhere to go but forward.”

I stand with a sideways stumble, which I try to make cute by posing as I catch myself with a tree. “Back to the beach?”

We trudge over the rocks. When we get to the sandy area, Hank trips, and I catch his elbow. It’s hot under the direct sun again, and the birds are busy down the shore.

We stay close for just a moment before we each step back.

I definitely still want to kiss him. No doubt about that.

“How’s your hand?” I ask instead.

He shakes it. “There’s a slight lingering sting, but fine.” He turns his eyes over the sandy shore. “We should clean the beach off first.”

“I’ll grab us some seaweed before I help clear.”

He nods. “Good idea.”

I strip off my clothes, leaving them on dry land, and go straight into the ocean.

The cold water almost sucks the air out of my lungs, but I adjust quickly, and it helps take the edge off this new horny distraction.

As I dive and gather handfuls of green sea lettuce, I watch Hank tromping around and moving debris off the beach.

The thought of him getting injured by the falling tree fills me with fear, and I have to shake it off. I don’t know how I’m going to repay him for saving my life.

Again.

Fuck, it was hot when he saved me from the tree, though. He’s so purposeful and strong and determined. The man deserves a long blowjob.

After dipping the seaweed in the creek, I come back with full arms. Hank’s eyes meet mine before they glance down my naked body, but he quickly corrects his gaze.

I hand off the seaweed. “Beach looks good.”

Hank slurps hungrily. “It’s getting there.”

I chew my seaweed, challenging myself to savor the flavor while it lasts. When I shiver, Hank puts his hand on my arm.

We look each other in the eye, standing close and eating with the waves at our feet.

“It is important,” Hank says carefully, “that we try to feel good. Keep our spirits up. You’re right about that.”

“Very important,” I agree with a flirty smile. “Almost as important as getting all of our tasks done first.”

“First?”

“Before we even consider getting up to trouble,” I tease.

A slight flush goes over Hank’s features, and it thrills me.

We get back to work and easily find a rhythm, occasionally stealing glances of each other.

Hank marks out the size of the X’s, and we work together to gather the easiest supplies, arranging the few nearby branches to get us started.

When I slip away to flip the wood and gather more burning material, he uses the time to forage mushrooms and berries, which we eat together by our sticks.

Hot and sweaty, I strip again and walk into the sea. Hank only hesitates for a moment before following me. We float and swim in the waves together, sinking under the water and emerging again.

Hank swims closer to me, and I swim past, splashing him on the way. Playful energy passes between us, wordless but energizing.

We walk out of the water side by side. The first X is started, assembled halfway. “How are you holding up?” he asks.

I look up to the sky. “Maybe we could get an X done before dark.”

Hank stands a little straighter, encouraged. “I think we could,” he agrees.

I’m tired as hell, but I pull on my underwear and get to work under the afternoon sun. In his boxer briefs, Hank breaks branches off small shrubs and trees, and I spread them with fallen logs, adding to the shape.

My muscles burn and my breath comes out heavy, but as the sky gets darker, I see that we can get the task done. It’s as the sun sets that Hank finally puts the last branch in place, completing the first signal.

I fall down on the sand, satisfied and tired. “We did it.”

Hank collapses next to me. “Now just a short rest,” he says, “and the fires should be ready to light, too.”

“Which means clams,” I add excitedly.

As though in answer to his words, a sprinkle starts to fall on the island.

“Of course,” Hank grumbles. “Another evening rain. The perfect way to top off this day.”

We both laugh in that desperate, what-the-fuck way, and I manage to sit back up. Hank rises beside me, one hand back to support his body, and a piece of stick falls off his arm.

He gives me an awkward half-smile, and I smile back.

His eyes drift behind me before lighting up. “Look,” he says, one hand on my shoulder while he points out to the ocean. “The Orcas are back.”

I turn and watch as the whales swim not far from shore, the pink-and-purple setting sun behind them. The surprise of it lights something up in me, and I hum my appreciation.

“They’re just as cool the second time,” I say.

“Definitely worth pausing to celebrate,” he agrees, conceding the point from earlier.

We end up side by side. Hank’s arm crosses my back, and I take the encouragement, sliding against him as a gentle rain patters down and we watch the whales swim.

It’s happening again. The moment heightens, and I swear I can feel the charge building between us. This time, though, Hank doesn’t pull away.