Page 2 of Until We Kiss (Until We Novellas)

2

“Did I tell you or what ?” Carter’s voice bellows over the waves.

The four of us stand with our bare feet in the warm sand, the moon streaking across the top of the water, the whites of our eyes and teeth glinting. I’ve got no clue what time it is. We snagged the last ferry to the island. The water is salty, the smell mixed with something flowery that must be coming from the fat-leafed trees behind us, white blooms glowing in the moonlight.

I drag in a deep inhale, squishing sand between my toes. There are thousands of animals hidden out there—fish and sea turtles and jellies and coral and rays and whales. All going about their business, knowing what they’re supposed to be doing.

And we’re here.

Five days.

Hopefully, one of those days will include a huge mouthful of dick for me. That’s what I’m supposed to be doing. Focus on goal. That’s how I got so good at football.

“We’re finally here!” Carter extends his arms, like he’s giving the ocean a hug. “This is so fucking golden .”

On the other side of him, Rory stoops to grab a handful of sand, letting it stream through his fingers. Dorian’s smiling, too, black hair tangling across his forehead.

This is the place I learn now to be me again. The place I can let go and…

And… fuck it .

I grab the back of my shirt and rip it over my head. Then I’m moving, toes sinking into the sand as I run, knee hurting like hell, pain aching down to my toes, but I keep going. Like I’m sprinting away from cold Indigo Falls. Away from empty days and rehab, from the guy I used to be, lost scholarships and those looks I get—the ones full of pity or disappointment.

I let out a whoop, echoing over the empty beach as I sprint into the water, the cold spray shocking me and dragging down my sweats.

A shout echoes behind me, and then Carter’s bulk crashes in at my side. Of course he follows. He always follows, and I get that zip of lightning over my shoulders as he careens into me—shoulders only though, he never unbalances my knee. He laughs as I splash him, then he flips me off, and I leap onto him.

He shouts in my ear before we sink under the salt water, our legs tangling, a wave dragging us out. We sputter for air, finding our footing in the waist deep water, the sand being towed out from under our feet by the undercurrent.

Carter wipes off his face, then shakes off his hair. “Don’t want to hurt your knee.”

“I’m good.”

Shit, I am.

For this moment, at least. Yeah, it hurts, but the water swirls around my hips, cooling my joints, cold relief.

Sand stretches out behind us, glowing in the moon. Dorian’s shin-deep, his arms locked over his chest. “It’s cold .”

Carter splashes water toward him. “You’re missing out, dude.”

Rory’s firmly on the shore too. “Matter of opinion.”

“Your choice.” Carter turns toward me. “Wanna?—?”

“Get ready.” I jump on him, taking us both under the water.

We push, we splash, we dunk, we laugh like we used to. Carter’s always careful of my knee, even after I tell him not to hold back. We keep going, playing , messing around until we’re breathing hard and shivering, and then somehow, he’s holding me up in a piggyback. My legs are around his hips, my hands gripping his shoulders. He’s so big and solid, skin slick with salty water, heat everywhere he’s against me, and cold where he isn’t.

Shit, I don’t know how we got like this.

“We should probably get out,” I say.

But I don’t move. I feel normal for a moment. It’s the closest I’ve been to football-Theo in months.

“Alright.” He twists his head, speaking closer to my ear. My heart thumps, my skin prickling awake.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing every part of my body to relax, and focus on the lap of the water, not the soft press of my crotch against his lower back. Not the ebb of that darkness out there, hovering over the water, seeming to get closer and closer.

“Give me another,” he says.

I clear my throat. “A fact?”

“Yep.” He squeezes his forearms lightly against my thighs. He’s a pretty big dude, too. Not as focused on the gym as I was, but we’re nearly the same height.

“A blue whale's blowhole can spray water thirty feet in the air,” I say.

“That sounds like a challenge,” he says

I laugh. “I guess it kinda does.”

His arms grip me tighter. “I wanna see one.”

“Me too.”

We both shiver, and my heart gives out a thump—trying to get my body warm. Right?

“We should go,” I say. “My balls are pea sized.”

He laughs as he releases me. “Sounds cute. Come on. Our room’s probably waiting for us.”

Dorian was right, it’s way too fucking cold. Clua’s tropical, and the ocean is pretty warm, but there’s still a breeze and our bodies are all messed up from leaving the frigid cold, to the airplane, to here. Regardless, I’m shaking like a bowl of Jell-O while we check into our two rooms, Carter talking to the person behind the desk because he’s the one who organized all of this. Honestly, I didn’t do much.

I don’t know why. I just couldn’t get my head into it.

I’m still shivering as we walk down a pathway between sharp white flowers, incandescent in the moonlight, until we reach a building that’s ours and step into an open air hallway.

Carter thumps behind me, his roll aboard somehow ramming into the walls—on both sides—his voice echoing as he shouts to Rory and Dorian before they head to their room across the way. I’m sure everyone in a half-mile radius can hear him. He’s so damn much, sometimes.

I swing open the door, gripping my keycard.

The room is dark with just a trace of moonlight shining through the sliding door to my left. My teeth are chattering, my over-full duffle weighty on my shoulder, water dripping onto the floor.

I stop.

I stare at the room.

Wait… There’s only one…

“Heyyyy,” Carter says as he muscles, taking up more than his share of the entryway. “This is fantastic!”

He flicks the light switch on, and I blink.

There’s only one bed .

One.

King size, but still…. One. Singular. Bed.

Shit.

I can’t…

“Are you sure this is our room?”

He grins, dimple popping, eyes lighting. “One-oh-six?” He dumps his suitcase on the floor. “Yep, totally us. Oh shit, look at that view!” He’s already halfway across the room, leaving a track of damp carpet behind him. “We can eat breakfast on that little patio thing out there.” He cranes his neck to see out the sliding glass door into the darkness beyond. Moonlight illuminates the big, leafy trees with more of those white flowers, like ghosts in the dark.

It’s a nice room. The entire villa is brand new. Smells new, feels new, looks new. New ivory-colored carpeting that Carter is currently breaking in. And a weirdly colored new pinkish-beige couch, with lots of wrinkles in the cushions.

The bed is probably new too. Mattress firm. Sheets crisp and clean.

Surely, they have rooms with two new beds.

“I was thinking more about…” I lick my shivering lips. “There’s only one bed, man.”

“Ohhh yassss.” He spins to me, rubbing at his biceps like he’s cold too. “Did I forget to mention that? It was way cheaper.” He nods toward the couch. “That sofa looks like a giant ballsack.”

I blink at it. “I guess it does.”

Maybe it’s a pullout?

He passes by me and flings off his flip-flops, still trying to rub some heat into his arms. “I figured you wouldn’t mind. Shit, I’m cold.”

“Wouldn’t mind,” I repeat to no one because he’s disappeared into the bathroom. The shower flips on, and he whoops at something in there.

I lick salt off my lips. “How much more were the rooms with two beds? Didn’t I give you enough money?”

I’m getting weird about this, and I should be focused on other things with the way my teeth are rattling. But how am I going to sleep next to Carter? He already takes up all the space. I can’t even imagine what he’s going to do with the sheets and pillows. Right there, sleeping next to me, big and warm, and possibly even nak?—

“I spent the money on something else,” Carter calls from the bathroom. A waft of warm steam wells out from the door, tinged with some kind of eucalyptus scent.

My teeth chatter. “What did you spend it on?”

“It’s a surprise.” Something wet slaps against the floor. “Don’t worry, you’ll love it.”

“I’ll love it?”

“Yep, totally, bro.”

I stare at the door, then shake my head and sigh because it’s so Carter . It’s not a big deal. So we’ll share a bed. Why is this fucking with me?

Travelling for football, I’ve shared rooms and beds and all sorts of spaces with other guys. And this should be easier because it’s Carter.

I don’t know why it’s fucking with my head so much.

I just need to go with it. Relax and get back to myself. Get out of my head, find a dick to suck, and get back to being football-Theo. I crouch to unzip my duffle, my fingers blue as I dig around for a clean pair of sweats.

“Ohhh, fuuuuck .” Carter’s voice bellows from the bathroom, echoing off the walls. “This feels so good . Get in here. Warm your pea-size balls.”

My eyes settle on the door, and the steam billowing out.

“Uh…” I clutch onto the folded sweats. My shivers are getting stronger, but fuck… I can’t…

“Brrroooo,” Carter groans in this guttural, throaty rasp. “Are you coming or what? You need to warm up.”

Steam’s billowing out the door now. I do need to get warm. I step forward, pulled by the heat, stepping over the transition to gray bathroom tiles.

The bathroom’s huge and modern. A shower spans most of the rear wall, half hidden by frosted glass.

I step on a floor towel that Carter must have laid down, the terry cloth wrinkling under my toes.

Fuck, the warmth . It soaks into me. I step over the low ledge into the shower, onto dark gray tile.

I’m still half clothed—wet sweats and soaked boxer briefs under that.

I was thinking Carter would be at least in his boxers.

I should have known better.

He’s leaning forward, both hands on the tiled wall, bare ass out, shorts flopped in a pile by his feet. He’s under a single rain-style shower head.

And fuck…

I pause.

I don’t want to look. I shouldn’t. But fuck if I can’t stop myself.

Carter.

He’s smooth skin, wide shoulders down to his ass. My eyes track over him and stop at a smattering of errant hair creeping down his crack.

A patch of hair.

Fuck.

Most guys would wax that off, but I just keep looking at it.

Steam thickens on my skin like paint, but I’m still shivering so hard that it’s unbalancing my knee, making my hip ache with how I’m standing. My sweats are heavy.

“Theo?” Carter twists halfway to look at me, palms still on the wall, lower back bowing, ass pushed out, his chest reddened from the water. “You good?”

“Yeah.” I inhale the dense, humid air, highly aware of where I’m looking.

At his face.

His forehead wrinkles. He pushes off the wall, turning toward me fully and…

Oh, shit. Say something.

“Elephants have a specific warning call that means ‘human’,” I blurt.

He blinks at me. “What?”

“Nothing. Sorry. Shit.”

He just keeps standing there, completely fucking naked, water spraying over one shoulder, his eyes narrowing as he takes me in.

“Elephants are smart,” he finally says. “They’re one of my favorite animals.”

“Yeah, me too.” I lick my lips, another shiver racking through me so hard that I swear my stomach shakes.

His brow furrows. “You gotta get in here.” He steps to the side, so the water is hitting his hip, those wrinkles in his forehead keep deepening until they look like little waves. “Seriously, get warm. I’m getting worried about you.”

He does look worried.

He’s always worried about me.

I suck in a breath and step forward, my throat tightening as I near him—a foot of steam-heavy air between us. He steps out of the water, letting me in.

The first drops of water hit my chest, stinging, and my mouth opens, letting out some kind of guttural noise.

I ache for warmth, my shoulders curling forward but head tipping back as I step under the spray. Water sears my raw skin, every muscle tensing, ass flexing, toes curling.

The noise fades, and for a moment, I forget he’s there—that huge presence hovering, then he moves, sweeping a curl out of his eyes as a shiver races over his shoulders.

He’s still cold.

He should be… in the water with me.

I step to the side. “Get in.”

He nods, another shiver racing over him, trembling everything , and then he slides in next to me, his arm pressing against mine, our cold skin touching.

But we’re too big to both fit under the spray of the single shower head. Side-by-side, at least.

I swear the world is out to get me.

I close my eyes. “Come closer.”

He laughs. “Bear hug, bro!”

Oh God.

His arms wrap me, pulling me in, chest to chest.

“You’re so cut ,” he says. “I mean, I know that. It’s pretty obvious. But it’s different touching you.”

Oh Jesus.

“I don’t know if I am anymore,” I whisper. “Not like I used to be.”

“Nah, you’re the same. You haven’t changed.”

Haven’t changed .

I squeeze my eyes shut. I should step back, but I just… don’t .

Carter holds me, our shivers coming in fits and spurts, his hair brushing my shoulder as he tips his head down, water coursing over us, weighing down my sweats so the elastic slides low on my hips, my toes tingling.

His body—against mine, shivering, trembling, fucking palpating .

We stand there for a long moment, just shaking together, until the water finally starts to heat both of us. Steam is gathered so thick that I can taste it, the sound of the falling water echoing in my head.

I squeeze my eyes tighter and tighter until I see circles of white light.

I should step back. But he just hugs me tighter. And I don’t want to step back.

I don’t want to at all .

I just want to stay here, still faintly shivering against him. As big and loud as he is, he’s just so Carter . Like he can’t help being exactly who he is.

I was always so focused on myself before the accident. So focused on football. On me , and all those goals I had for my life.

My throat tightens, a swelter of some kind of emotion rising, pricking my eyes and puckering the back of my tongue. Like a weight, welling from somewhere inside. The last six months wash over me, everything tumbling. Hitting the turf. That first snap of pain. The darkness after.

It always comes back so fast. Out of nowhere.

Heat closes my throat, swells behind my eyes.

Fuck, I don’t want to cry here. I’ve cried more in the last six months than I had for my entire life before that.

But it starts to well up, and maybe he senses it, because he pulls me closer, snug against him, chest to chest, his lips against my neck, the soft press of his package against mine.

And then the worst possible thing happens. Worse than almost crying in the shower with Carter. Worse than admitting how everything feels like it’s falling apart. Blood rushes, hot in my slowly warming body, like it’s on a mission, my dick thickening, my balls and thighs warming. An awareness of every bit of his skin pressed against mine. Of his breath. Of his size. Of the way he’s hugging me.

Fuck, I need to get out of here.

“I’m good now.” I step back, nearly stumbling over my own heels. My dick is throbbing, my face flushing…

“Theo?” There’s a tightness in his voice, and I’m not meeting his eyes. I’m staring at the tile.

And I’m fucking hard.

Jesus, did he notice ?

I need to go. I turn, still shivering, and step around the frosted glass panel, snagging a towel off the rack.

My sweats are soaked. And I can’t pull them down without springing out like a fucking jack-in-the-box, so I do the only thing I can—I head out of the bathroom, dripping all over the new carpet.

I beeline for the sliding door and step out. I strip off and dry as fast as I can, glad for the fat palm fronds that act like a privacy screen around the sitting area. Glad there’s no one there to see the ugly-ass scars stretching down my leg. I wrap the towel around my hips, tucking my dick under the knot, tight to my abdomen where I can feel every twitch, and then toss my sweats over a chaise lounge.

I’ll deal with them tomorrow. Right now, I need this to be over.

I can’t do this to Carter. I know I’m messed up in my head.

I find a blanket in the closet, and still half wet, I curl into the ballsack couch, not even checking if it folds out, the wrinkly cushions sucking me in.

I close my eyes, trying to ignore the constant twitch of my dick, still warm against my abdomen. Trying not to imagine him—over and over—water slicking down his back, that odd patch of hair at the top of his ass. How hard the tile would have felt as I kneeled, a bolt of pain shooting up my thigh, but it would have been worth it.

No.

I need to stop thinking.

I need to follow through on the original plan. Find a guy. Suck my first dick. If I’m lucky, some dude’s cock edging down my throat will solve all of this. Organize my thoughts. Keep Carter in that lane where things are safe. Fix whatever’s going haywire in my brain.

I just need something to bring me back to myself. To make the world make sense.

I’m not sure how long it is before the shower turns off. The toilet flushes and the sink runs, then soft footsteps approach. The floor creaks next to me, but for once in his life—probably the first time ever—he’s silent. Then he turns and pads to the bed, the frame creaking as he crawls in.

My throat closes, my heart thunders. What will he do tomorrow?

Will he hate me? Will he sneer at me the way Jason did when I told him? Back in high school, that first time I thought that maybe, maybe there was someone I could see myself opening up to? But I learned pretty damn quickly that reality sucks sometimes.

I curl under the blanket, still shivering long after I’m warm, thinking thoughts that I don’t want to think. Things aren’t getting better in my head.

They’re getting worse.

I’ve never felt so alone.