Page 40 of Total Creative Control

“Here.” Lewis reached up, grabbed his dangling foot, giving him some support. “I’ve got you. Now swing your other leg over…that’s it.”

In an ungainly slither, Aaron made it over the gate, and somehow Lewis found himself supporting him as Aaron lowered himself down. Goosebumps prickled up his arms and the back of his neck at the feel of Aaron’s muscles flexing beneath his hands, the hard lines of his ribs, and—bloody hell—the shock of warm skin as Lewis’s fingers accidentally slid beneath the hem of Aaron’s shirt. Lewis sucked in a sharp breath, and the scent of Aaron’s apple-scented shampoo filled his head, making him dizzy.

Fuck, but touching him felt good.

And then Aaron was down and turning around, and Lewis wasn’t letting go or stepping back. He was awash with a flood of desire, and, had Aaron been any other man, Lewis would have pressed him up against that gate right then, right there, and kissed the living daylights out of him. And more.

But he couldn’t. Hecouldn’t.

So they just eyed each other until, with a breathy laugh, Aaron tugged down his rumpled shirt and said, “Well, that was elegant. You can tell I was crap at PE.” His cheeks flushed adorably pink.

Adorably pink?

Christ, this was why they never left the fucking office.

Manfully, Lewis made himself let go and shuffle back a step. But before he could find any coherent words, Aaron’s eyes widened. “Oh!” he said, looking past Lewis. “Wow, this is gorgeous.”

Lewis had forgotten the wildflower meadow. Dragging his eyes away from Aaron, he turned around, grateful for the chance to cool the fuck down.

And itwasgorgeous.

“Listen,” Aaron said, softly. “You can hear the bees.”

You could. The air was rich with the lazy hum of insects, a couple of crickets chirping, and the sigh of a gentle breeze soughing through the trees. Exactly what you’d imagine if you thought of a rural idyll, genuine natural beauty. It stood in direct contrast to all the affected bullshit on the other side of the locked gate.

Suddenly, a loud gurgle intruded into the quiet.

Aaron slapped a hand over his stomach. “Sorry!” He giggled, an actual fucking giggle. “I’m really hungry.”

And he looked so perfect standing there in the meadow with his tawny hair gilded by the sun, silvery eyes laughing, that Lewis felt a helpless upswell of fondness. A confusing feeling with which he was neither familiar nor comfortable.

Swift on its heels came a flare of panic, or maybe excitement, or something between the two, because he was sailing in uncharted waters now, off the edge of the map.

And all he could say was, “Well, then. Lead the way to Swanage.”

Chapter Ten

Aaron

They approached Swanage from the north, walking into town along Shore Road with its quaint little B&Bs until they reached the seafront. By then it was just gone six, and Aaron was ready to gnaw off his own arm despite the emergency Snickers he’d scoffed before he showered.

The beaches were empty, the tide high, but there were a few people still milling about enjoying the last of the lingering summer. Most of the brightly coloured beach huts lined up along the seafront were closed, but some stood open with sandy people sitting inside or perching on their steps, drying off and enjoying a cuppa or the final ice cream of the day.

Aaron’s heart lifted. It was all so familiar, and he was swept away on a wave of nostalgia. He hadn’t been here in years, and now he wondered why he’d left it so long. Then he remembered: Colin’s idea of a holiday was two weeks toasting himself on a Mediterranean beach. He wouldn’t be seen dead in a place like Swanage.

The sun, setting gracefully behind the headland, threw long shadows over the promenade, but further out to sea, the water glittered in its golden light. And above the soft shushing of the surf on the shore came the clatter of the amusement arcade further along the front, reminding Aaron of Lewis’s story about day trips to Brighton.

He glanced over to mention it and was startled to find Lewis already watching him. Their eyes met, then glanced off each other as they both looked away. And Aaron’s awareness that they were increasingly off-piste ratcheted up another notch.

“So this was your summer bolthole?” Lewis said.

Aaron laughed at the description. “Well, it’s where my grandparents retired,” he said, pointing back the way they’d come. “They lived about a twenty-minute walk that way.”

“I like it,” Lewis pronounced, looking about as they walked. And that was the thing about Lewis. When he said something like that, you knew he meant it. Lewis never idly flattered.

“I loved it as a kid,” Aaron said, “so I’ll always love it. You know?”

Lewis nodded. “I know exactly.”