Page 11 of September’s Tide (Island Tales #2)

Chapter Seven

David opened his eyes and stared at an unfamiliar window. Sunlight poured in and reflected off light cream walls. For a moment his tired brain couldn’t compute. Then he remembered. Taylor.

“Morning,” a sleep-heavy voice rumbled from behind him.

He rolled onto his back to be confronted by two sleepy sea-glass eyes and an unruly mop of wavy blond hair. Taylor looked adorable when he first woke up.

“Good morning.” David’s voice cracked a little. “What time is it?”

“A little after seven.” Taylor yawned widely, stretching his arms up into the air, giving David a lovely view of that smooth chest. He finally got a closer look at the ink on Taylor’s arm: There was a snake on the inside of his left wrist, and the words ‘Take Me As I Am’ tattooed onto his inside right bicep.

David loved ink on a guy.

He also loved a responsive guy, and fuck, Taylor was all that. David’s cock hardened at the memory of their night together.

When did I last go three rounds ? Christ, the noises Taylor made…

“I’ll make us some coffee. You stay here.” Taylor slipped from the bed with a stretch that was almost obscene. He shot David a grin over one bare shoulder. “You need to rest. You must be knackered after last night.”

David watched him go, that firm ass disappearing out the door like sin on legs, and dropped back onto the pillows with a groan.

Oh, fuck.

In the heat of the moment last night, everything had made sense.

The kisses, the hunger, the way Taylor had given himself so completely…

David hadn’t questioned a damn thing. But now, with sunlight pouring in through the window and nothing but the delicious ache of last night echoing in his limbs, the doubts started to creep in.

Taylor was young. So fucking young. David hadn’t even asked how old he was, which was beginning to feel like a dangerous oversight. His stomach twisted with questions.

What now? Is this about to get messy? Is Taylor going to expect something?

The man had talent, no doubt. But was he looking for more than just a good time?

David hadn’t done morning-after talk for years .

He was still wrestling with that when Taylor reappeared, two mugs in his hands, his hair mussed, that smug little smile still evident. He set the coffees down and slid in beside David again, like he’d always belonged there.

Well, duh. It is his bed.

Taylor reached out, his hand unhurried and possessive as he stroked David’s chest. “Last night was incredible,” he murmured.

“I mean it. I have this thing for older men, but until now it’s been nothing but a fantasy.

You’re the first guy I’ve been with who was over twenty-five.

” His eyes sparkled. “I probably should’ve asked this earlier, but just how old are you? ”

David exhaled, the breath long and flat. Too goddamn old to be fucking you.

“Forty-six.”

Taylor’s eyes lit up. “Cool.”

Cool. Okay, that was better than he’d expected.

Taylor slid his hand lower, inching beneath the sheet, zeroing in on David’s cock like a guided missile. And David’s body—traitorous bastard that it was—responded on instinct, rising to meet him.

David caught his wrist and held it in a firm grip. “And while we’re on the subject,” he said, his voice low and even, “how old are you ?”

“Twenty-six.” There was that same easy grin. “Want to tell me why you don’t seem to want me near that magnificent cock of yours?”

He licked his lips, and David’s brain short-circuited for a beat.

Christ. That mouth…

David tried to hang on to his logic, to the part of him that knew better.

Taylor’s gaze narrowed slightly, not with hurt, but sharp, as though he was trying to read him.

“David, about last night,” he said at last. “It was just sex. No strings. No promises. Nothing but great sex.” A pause followed. “Is that okay?”

David let out a slow breath as relief flooded him.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s fine.”

Taylor pulled his hand free, casual as you like, and sat up to grab his coffee. He sipped, then studied David over the rim of the mug.

“Look,” he said. “I’m going to say something, and you don’t have to agree. It’s only an idea.”

David sat up too, his curiosity piqued. “Go on.”

“You’re staying here till the end of September, right?”

“Yeah.”

Taylor nodded. “Okay, so… how about we make this a regular thing?”

David blinked. “Say what now?”

Taylor shifted, his expression open and unfazed. “Look, there isn’t a thriving gay hookup scene here. Most of my experiences have been, well, let’s say, less than ideal. One-offs. A lot of straight men dipping a toe in the pool.” He smirked. “You can imagine how thrilling that gets.”

David snorted. “Trust me, I can.”

Taylor grinned. “Right? So all I’m saying is…

you’re here, I’m here, we’re clearly compatible, and I’m currently running on a serious sex deficit.

” His eyes glittered. “No strings. Just fun. You keep me well-fucked, I’ll keep bringing you coffee in bed, and occasionally feeding you with whatever I catch out there in the cove. ”

David stared at him. His dick loved the idea.

His brain was caving, slowly.

Hell, I always write better when I’m getting laid.

“You’ve got a deal.”

Taylor’s smile stretched wide in obvious delight. “Excellent.” He glanced down at the sheet, where David was undeniably ready for round…. What is it now? Four?

“Would be a shame to waste this,” Taylor murmured, sliding his hand under the covers once more to wrap it around David’s shaft, stroking it with lazy, practiced ease.

David groaned, his hips twitching.

“Then what are you waiting for, boy?” he growled. “Get down there.”

Taylor’s grin turned downright filthy. “Yes, sir. It will be a pleasure.”

David let his head fall back against the pillow with a thud.

There was a very real chance he wasn’t going to survive the rest of September.

But God, he was going to enjoy the ride.

Well, fuck yes .

Taylor managed not to fist-pump like a teenager, but it was a near thing.

David’s low, almost grudging you’ve got a deal was the hottest sentence Taylor had heard in weeks, months, maybe even longer.

It wasn’t just the sex, though God , that had been incredible.

It was David’s tone, the slight hesitation, the tension he tried so hard to keep locked under the surface.

Taylor had felt it all night in the way the man held him, touched him.

That sharp, coiled restraint, waiting to be unravelled.

And now Taylor had gotten the green light to keep going.

He slid lower beneath the sheet, feeling the weight and heat of David in his palm again, and that familiar hunger rose up like a wave.

He’d meant what he said—he was starving.

For touch, for connection, for something real , even if they were pretending it was just for fun.

And David… Jesus , David was a walking storm cloud: older, brooding, hard-edged, dripping reluctance and mystery.

Exactly Taylor’s type.

Twenty years apart? So what? Taylor didn’t give a damn about the number. What he did care about was the way David’s breath hitched when he touched him. The way that deep voice turned to gravel when Taylor teased. The way it felt to be under him, pinned down, filled, wanted.

Because that was the truth, wasn’t it? For all his teasing and bold talk, Taylor wanted to be wanted. Seen. Not merely as a pretty young thing or a good time, but as someone who could hold his own. Who could give as much as he took.

David might not realize it yet, but Taylor had a feeling he was going to get under that man’s skin. Even stay there, long after the tan faded and September melted into October.

But not yet.

For now, it was no strings, no promises, only heat and release and that low voice calling him boy as if it meant something more.

And God help him, Taylor was so ready for it.

“That dick won’t suck itself, y’know,” David groused.

Taylor smiled.

I am going to blow your mind, David Hannon.