Page 35 of September’s Tide (Island Tales #2)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Thursday

“Who was that on the phone?” David asked as Taylor finished the call. He poured them both another cup of coffee.

“Eric. He invited us to spend the afternoon on the boat. I said no.” Taylor’s gaze met his. “I want you all to myself.”

As much as David would have loved to go out on the sea, he didn’t want to share Taylor with anyone, and it filled his heart with joy to see his desires mirrored in Taylor.

“Then what shall we do today? Got any ideas?”

Taylor smiled. “I thought we’d pack a picnic and drive along the Military Road to Compton Bay. The beach won’t be as crowded as Shanklin or Sandown. We might even have it to ourselves.”

David beamed. “Sold. What do we have to take with us?”

They made sandwiches, and Taylor threw them into the cooler, along with fruit, water, even a bottle of wine and a couple of plastic cups.

“You sure you’re up to this?”

Taylor rolled his eyes. “I’m a fast healer.” He grinned. “Your teeth marks are usually gone in a day, remember?” Then he stepped into the circle of David’s arms. “I’m fine, honest. My cuts and bruises don’t hurt—well, maybe a tiny bit—but not enough to prevent me from spending a day on the beach.”

David caved.

The drive was quiet and golden, the roof down, the sea a constant gleam beside the long road that stretched along the length of the coast. It was a day without deadlines or departures, where time melted in the salt-warm air and the horizon seemed infinite.

They parked on the side of the road, then made the trek down to the beach, barefoot in the sand, the towels under David’s arm, the cooler clasped in Taylor’s hand.

The beach was nearly empty, with only a few distant walkers and gulls wheeling overhead. They set up near the base of the cliffs, far from the world.

David couldn’t get over the temperature. Okay, it wasn’t hot, but warm enough to feel pleasant against his skin. He’d only just finished peeling off his shirt when Taylor toed out of his shorts, completely unbothered by the open air.

He caught David’s stare. “What?” He flashed a cocky grin as he tossed his towel onto the sand. “We’re alone.”

David raised an eyebrow. “Are you always this brazen, or is it just me?”

Taylor dropped down onto the towel and stretched out on his back, gloriously unselfconscious. “You bring it out in me.”

If you can’t beat them, join them. Wasn’t that how the saying went?

David stripped off, casting a glance now and then along the beach, his shorts within reach in case he needed to perform a quick cover-up.

They talked, laughed, ate grapes, and licked juice off each other’s fingers.

David poured a little wine into the plastic cups Taylor had brought and let it warm in the sun before sipping it.

The sea glittered like glass in the distance, the cliffs providing them with a quiet cocoon.

Everything about it felt slow and content and oddly fragile, like something precious they both knew couldn’t last.

At some point, Taylor reached for David’s hand and pulled him on top of him. They kissed lazily, their mouths soft, warm with sunshine. Taylor’s fingers were in David’s hair, stroking gently, and something about the tenderness of it, the stillness, lit a fuse in him he hadn’t known was there.

Taylor shifted beneath him, and David followed, deepening the kiss, letting his hands roam.

Taylor’s sun-warmed skin was golden beneath David’s fingertips.

David stroked his body in silent worship, sliding his hands over Taylor’s stomach, up his ribs, brushing over each nipple, keeping the movement leisurely.

Taylor moaned, his breath catching, and tipped his head back against the towel.

His legs parted, and David settled between them, letting their bodies line up naturally.

This time, it wasn’t about urgency or heat or release.

It was about feeling everything.

“I’ve never done this,” David murmured.

Taylor chuckled. “Liar. I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve done this.”

“No, I mean, have sex outdoors.” David looked down at him, his heart full. “Are you sure?”

Taylor met his gaze without hesitation. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” He grinned. “Otherwise, why else would I have put lube in the cooler?”

He cupped David’s nape, and their kisses grew deeper, unhurried.

David moved with care, memorizing the taste of salt on Taylor’s neck, the arch of his hips, the way his breath shuddered when David touched him just right.

He took his time, exploring every inch of Taylor like a man learning a new language, one he already half-knew by instinct.

When the moment was right and he ached to be inside him, David entered him slowly, both of them sighing as their bodies locked together in the sun-drenched silence.

The warmth of Taylor wrapped around him was something familiar by now, and yet every time still managed to undo him.

He kept his pace slow, kept his eyes on Taylor’s face.

Every flicker of pleasure, every soft gasp… David took it all in.

Taylor’s hands gripped his shoulders, his waist, his back, anywhere he could reach, as though he needed to feel every part of David pressed against him. He wrapped his legs around David’s hips, pulling him deeper, closer, until their skin was flush and slick with sweat and sun and need.

They moved together as if they’d done it a thousand times, no fumbling, no guessing, only instinct and desire and the quiet, impossible intimacy of knowing . David adjusted his angle slightly, and Taylor gasped, his hips arching up off the towel.

“There,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Don’t stop.”

David kept that rhythm, that depth, each thrust measured and deliberate. He leaned down and kissed Taylor again, brushing his lips over cheekbones, eyelids, the corner of his mouth. Taylor opened to him, soft and pliant, and David’s chest ached.

“God,” David murmured. “You feel so good.”

Taylor’s eyes fluttered open, staring at him. “I don’t want this to end.”

David’s throat tightened. “It doesn’t have to. Not yet.”

He pressed his forehead to Taylor’s and kept moving, slower now, their breathing catching in sync. The sound of the waves rolled in the background, and high above them, a red kite wheeled in the sky, its cry sharp and echoing.

The moment stretched, not rushed, not frantic, but there . David felt as if he could fall into it, into him , and never want to surface.

Their orgasms came not with cries or gasps but with quiet, overwhelming intensity.

Taylor trembled beneath him, his fingers digging into David’s flesh as though he was trying to fuse their flesh into one body.

David buried his face in the crook of his neck and let himself feel everything. The heat, the sweetness.

Afterward, they lay tangled together on the towel, the sun warming their bare skin, the scent of sex and sea air all around them. Taylor rested his head on David’s chest, his fingers absently tracing the faint trail of hair beneath his navel.

David held him close, one hand stroking up and down his spine. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. His heart felt too full of gratitude, longing…

Fear.

He knew what was waiting for him around the corner. He knew the flight was coming. The world wasn’t about to stop because this felt like a dream.

But for now, the only thing that mattered was the feel of Taylor’s skin against his, the rise and fall of their breathing, the echo of what they’d shared still pulsing through his body.

He kissed the top of Taylor’s head and closed his eyes, committing everything to memory.

Because if this was what goodbye looked like, then at least it was something beautiful.

The sun had drifted lower by the time David stirred, brushing grains of sand from Taylor’s back with slow, lazy fingers. The warmth between them hadn’t faded, not entirely, but the air had shifted, the light softer now.

Time was pressing forward again.

Taylor shifted against him with a small sigh, his cheek resting on David’s chest. “You okay?” he murmured, his voice still thick with drowsy contentment.

David let out a slow breath. “Yeah. You?”

“Mmm.” Taylor stretched, then curled in closer, his arm draped across David’s stomach. “I think I’ve lost the ability to walk properly, but otherwise? Never better.”

David laughed, smoothing slow circles on Taylor’s shoulder. “You make it very difficult to leave.”

Taylor didn’t reply right away. He stared out toward the water, where the tide had crept in while they lay there, the surf whispering over the sand.

“So don’t,” he said, his voice low.

The words hovered between them like smoke, delicate yet dangerous.

“I mean, I know you have to,” Taylor added quickly. “It’s your life. But…” He turned his face up toward David’s. “Part of me keeps hoping you’ll change your mind. That you’ll say, ‘Screw New York, screw L.A., I’m staying here with you.’”

David’s heart quaked. “Part of me wants to.”

Taylor gave him a crooked smile, tinged with sadness. “But not enough.”

He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow so he could really look at Taylor. “It’s not about enough. It’s about reality. My contract, my commitments. There’s a whole production team depending on me. I can’t just… disappear.”

“I’m not asking you to disappear,” Taylor said, his voice even quieter now. “I’m scared, that’s all.”

“Of what?”

“That this was it.” He gestured vaguely at the towels, the cliff above, the sea. “That we’ll go back to normal life and forget what this felt like. That you’ll get busy, and I’ll become this… summer detour you took before your real life started again.”

David felt as though something sharp inside him had nicked a nerve.

He reached out, brushing his thumb along Taylor’s cheekbone. “Hey. Look at me.”

Taylor’s gaze met his, and David sighed. “I’m not going to forget a single second of this. You have no idea what you’ve given me. What this time has meant.”

Taylor swallowed, his eyes suspiciously bright. “Then what do we do?”