“Give me a turn, and I’ll be slow, all right.” I already had a strong sense that Nash wasn’t exactly versatile in bed, but it was fun to tease him.
“Show me you listened,” Nash ordered, a smile tugging at his mouth, almost like he couldn’t help but get amused by me.
I tried to repeat his cast but fumbled it all to hell. “Fuck.”
“That’s all right. First time for everything.” He put my rod and reel back in order, untangling what I’d done to the line. Picking up a nearby stick, he handed it to me. “Practice just the motion a few times. It’s all in the wrist, but also the head. Gotta trust your senses.”
I was not supposed to be finding Nash playing teacher so sexy. “Okay.”
Finally, after a long while of stick practice and then practice with the actual rod, Nash led me into the water. “You can watch me a bit if you want. See how I read the water.”
Yup. Sexy as fuck, Nash concentrating, at one with his equipment and our place on the river. He continued to keep up a low chatter about catch-and-release and watching how the fly drifted and where a fish was likely to grab hold. “There we go. That’s a nice one.” His quiet praise as he hauled out the first fish sparked erotic thoughts in my brain and had me looking forward to earning some praise for myself.
He showed me the wriggling fish, which looked like a good dinner to me, but Nash released it into the stream. “You’re not going to let me cook lunch for you?”
“Granddad liked to keep the best catch of the day for supper, but I never had his talent for cleaning and frying them up.” Nash gave me a sly smile. “And besides, I’ve got other plans for you before you’ve got to be back at work.
“Oh, you do?” I liked the sound of this. Distracted by sexy thoughts, I took a step that had my boot sliding on a rock and, whoosh, water gushed into my waders. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, that’s cold.”
“Now you’re a real fisherman.” Nash clapped me on the back. “Your turn to try.”
“Okay.” I tried to remember all the steps he’d been showing me, but I bungled my first few casts. Then, finally, one flew out over the river, just as Nash’s had done. I let out a whoop. A sharp tug pulled at my line. “Oh, my God, I think I’ve got something!”
“Reel it in. Nice and slow. Steady now.” Nash coached me through bringing the fish in. “And lookee there, you caught Walter—ornery old fish who lives off in the deep part over there. I’ve probably caught him a few dozen times. Big sucker, isn’t he?”
“Oh, yeah.” I was ridiculously proud of myself, and in that moment, I understood why Nash had brought me, why this was so important for him to share. This was the real Nash, stripped of the job and obligations and limitations he put on himself. And in a way, he was showing me the real me, too—who I could be if I let myself go and danced out over the water with nothing but air and sunshine to hold me back.
Nash released my fish for me, then he did the most unexpected thing ever and gave me a firm kiss. “Well done.”
“Thanks.” I bloomed under his approval, and not even the frigid water inside my boots could keep me from trying again.
“You’ve got the knack.” Nash smiled broadly a while later as I hauled in another fish. “You like this, then?”
His tone was uncertain for the first time all day, and I stepped close enough so that I could brush a fast kiss across his lips. “Yes. Thanks for bringing me.”
“Maybe I’ll take you to another of my favorite spots next time…” His words drifted, as if suddenly remembering that this thing between us was supposed to have an expiration date.
“I’d love that,” I said quickly. We could discuss ending our friendship later. This was far, far too good to release quite yet.
Nash nodded. “You text me your next couple of off days. I’ll be thinking of some places.”
“Will do.” We fished in quiet companionship for another stretch, breaking to eat our snacks.
“Probably ought to head back,” Nash said at last with obvious reluctance. “Got to get you warmed up and dry before your shift.”
“Oh? You going to help with that?” I followed him to the truck.
“Maybe.” Nash gave me a wolfish grin.
Since I didn’t fall asleep on the way back, we talked easily about fishing and music and everything other than the heavy stuff that had been weighing me down. It was nice, how he never pushed me to talk. Felipe had been a big talker, to the point where his constant questions and feedback felt like amateur therapy. Sometimes I just wanted to ignore my issues, not take them out and analyze them one by one. Nash seemed to get that, gifting me this time away from all the pressures of my life.
I was surprised when Nash turned down the alley for our street, going straight past my place to pull into the freestanding garage behind his house.
“Well, I guess I better head out…” This was the awkward sort of parting I’d hoped to avoid.
Nash raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you want to get clean and dry first? I’ve got something inside to show you.”
“Lead the way,” I said, a bit too eagerly. In all our time together, he’d always come to me. I’d never once been in his home, and it felt like a big deal that he was inviting me in. His backyard was ringed by a tall wooden fence, blocking us from the view of any neighbors, but he still glanced around as he unlocked the back door.
Yup. Still the secret friend. I tried not to sigh. I’d been the one to propose our arrangement, and now I had to live with it.
We stepped into a kitchen that I immediately noticed had been recently remodeled—new white cabinetry and a gleaming stainless-steel gas stove I bet he seldom used. He led the way into a comfortable living room with recliners and a long leather couch, and, as we entered a hallway with polished hardwood floors and walls hung with pictures of his family through the years, I had to acknowledge that his place was much cozier than mine.
“You were hot in high school,” I observed, stopping in front of a picture of him in a baseball uniform.
“Hush.” He laughed, cheeks going pink again before he opened a door. “This is what I wanted to show you. Did this last year, and it turned out all right, if I do say so myself.”
“Oh, my God. Okay is such an understatement.” I took in the bathroom, which looked like a post from an interior-decorating-porn thread on Pinterest. The space was huge—I’d put money on him having knocked out some walls to accommodate the double sink, walk-in shower, and hugest tub I’d ever seen. “You’ve totally been holding out on me.”
“Maybe a little.” Nash grinned at me and headed over to the tub. “You want me to run you a bath?”
“Nope.” Grinning back, I crossed the room to loop my arms around his neck. “I want you in the tub with me.”
Seventeen
Nash
Mason was looking at my tub like it was a six-layer cake and I was the frosting. I frowned at him. “Us? Together? Oh, no. I’ll just rinse off in the back—”
“You will not.” Mason started in on my buttons with determined fingers. “Tub like this? It’s meant to be shared.”
“I just wanted something I could soak in. My bones are getting old—”
Mason cut me off with a snort. “Don’t you start in with this old business. I’m on to you. You’re a closet hedonist. Bet you’ve got nice sheets, too.”
“Hedonist?” I shook my head, letting him peel my shirt off me. “This is simply a nice spot to have a beer after a long shift. And if you watch that sassy mouth of yours, I’ll show you my sheets shortly.” I neatly sidestepped the question of whether they were expensive. Ever since my sister gifted me some nice ones a few Christmases back, I had actually developed a taste for finer linens, but I wasn’t admitting that to Mason.
“I think you’ve got a better use for my mouth.” He leaned in for another kiss. “Come on. First at my place and now here. What’s with the reluctance to get clean with me?” His eyes narrowed. “Did something…bad happen to you in a shower?” His tone said he’d happi
ly battle any demons in my past, and that was adorable enough to make me smile.
“Nothing like that.” I struggled to explain. “I just…don’t like being naked. Exposed.” I gestured at the sunshine coming in through the frosted windows. “Hated locker rooms in school. Always tried to get in and out as fast as possible, keep my head down.” I’d been so terrified of sprouting wood at the wrong moment that those locker room visits had been nothing other than fraught for me even though I’d loved playing sports.
“Well, I happen to think that you naked is one of the seven wonders of the world.” He went for my pants next, undoing my fly and taking the time to tease my not-uninterested cock. “And as fun as you are in a bedroom, there’s plenty of trouble we can get up to in other places.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” I bent to take off my boots. He was winning, of course. There wasn’t much I’d deny this man, not that he needed to know that. He started the tub filling, cranking up the hot water exactly how I liked it.
“There’s no one here but us.” Mason made quick work of his own clothes. “It’s okay to enjoy yourself, Nash. Really.”
I made a noncommittal noise, trying not to shift from foot to foot and reveal my discomfort with being naked.
“Come on. In the tub with you.” Mason pointed to the steaming, half-full bath.
“Okay. Okay.” I dumped in some body wash I kept on the side of the tub. Maybe I’d feel less bare in the sudsy water. Climbing in, I sat against the far side of the bath, groaning at the combo of the cool porcelain at my back and the hot water loosening my tired muscles.
“My turn now.” Mason didn’t give me a ton of warning before he stepped into the tub, and instead of sitting opposite me like I’d expected, he settled himself with his back to my front. The tub was wide and deep enough that the position was technically possible, but I hadn’t been ready for it.
“Oof.” I tried to arrange myself so that my knees weren’t jabbing into his back, and ended up with him more or less in my lap, my legs on either side of him, my cock trapped between us. Sighing happily, he leaned against me. “Happy now?” I asked.
“Very.” He stretched out, wriggling his feet under the stream of water. “Isn’t this nice?”
“Everything’s nicer with you,” I said without thinking. But it was true. There weren’t many scenarios where a lap full of Mason wasn’t a treat, and the hot, sudsy water was melting my reservations about this whole enterprise. My arms came around to hold him tight against me.
“Forget hedonist. You’re a closet romantic.” He tilted his head so that he could brush a kiss on the edge of my jaw.
“I’ll leave that to you.” I made a sweeping gesture indicating the tub. “You’re the one with big ideas. I’m just along for the ride.”
And wasn’t that the truth. I couldn’t seem to stop my imagination from leaping ahead—thinking of more fishing trips for us, thinking how Mason would love the rich fishing on the Elk River in the late fall, when I had no business dreaming beyond this latest encounter. He’d said it was all just a bit of summer fun, but my heart and brain refused to keep with the light-and-breezy agenda.
My hand twitched, needing a distraction from this line of thought. Grabbing a washcloth from the little basket next to the body wash, I lathered Mason’s chest. Tub full now, he used his foot to turn off the taps before arching back into my touch.
Abandoning the washcloth, I rubbed circles around his nipples with my thumbs. I loved how responsive he was there, drank in his moans and gasps. “You can go harder,” he whispered.
“Oh, yeah?” Pinching the little nubs, I rolled them between my fingers, making him squirm against me, delicious friction.
“More, Nash. More,” Mason panted.
“I’ve got you.” Snaking a hand lower, I grabbed his cock under the water, jacked it a few times, liking the slide of it against my palm.
“Wait. I want something for both of us.”
“This is. Watching you get off is better than Christmas.” I wasn’t lying. Him stretched out against me like this, head on my shoulder, hot breath on my neck was my idea of perfection, reservations about sharing the bath be damned. I tweaked his nipple again for good measure, loving how it made him wriggle.
“You…can…fuck me after,” Mason groaned, body going pliant against me, giving himself over to my touches.
“Don’t write checks your body can’t cash.” I nipped at his ear. “Quit focusing so much on when I’m going to get mine and let me make you feel good.”
“And you say I’m the bossy one?” Stretching, he gave me a sloppy kiss.
“You are.” I tightened my grip just to make him writhe again. Playing with him, I went hard for a brief spell, tight, fast strokes that had him moaning, before I slowed way down and went back to flicking his nipple and lazy, barely there touches on his cock.
“You’re pure evil, Nash Flint.” Mason’s back arched, body trying to chase more of my touch, but I wasn’t getting him off until I was good and ready. I waited until he was cursing and the water was starting to cool before I sped up again.
“Wanna come,” he moaned.
“Nothing stopping you.” I slowed my hands.
“Bastard.”
“You love it.” I kissed his head.
“Hate it. Please get me off.”
“There’s my favorite word.” I jerked him with more purpose now, adding the feathery touch on the upstroke that always seemed to get him there.
“I’m gonna…” His voice broke as his whole body bowed upward, fucking my fist as he came in big shudders. The spunk was slippery on my fist before the water washed it away. But I didn’t care about that—my attention was riveted on his face, how the wonder of it all hit him, how his features went slack after, how he smiled at me as he came back to earth.
“Now the water’s all dirty.” He laughed before turning so that he could kiss me.
“I don’t care.” Pulling him close, I kissed him slow and deep, a leisurely exploration that went on until the water cooled for real.
Mason pulled back enough to speak. “Let’s rinse off and then you can show me your bed.”
“We don’t have to fuck.” I waited for him to get out of the tub before following him to the separate shower.
“Hello. Interested again.” Laughing, Mason pointed to his cock, which indeed was hard, bobbing against his stomach.
I let him wash me in the shower, and as he slowly soaped my chest and abs, some of my nerves about being exposed, about putting myself at risk, melted away. Sharing this with him was…well, fun wasn’t the right word, but it was…special. And special was dangerous, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I even laughed as he grabbed for a towel after we rinsed. “Now where’s that bed?”
“This way.” The master was right next door to the bath. I had changed it a bit since it had been my parents’ room—new coat of gray paint, king-size bed to replace their old double, the linens my sister had picked out, and, on the wall, some paintings of the beach outside town that a friend of Curtis’s had done.
“Oh, fuck. I don’t have supplies.” Mason flopped on the bed.
“I do. Got your fancy brand when I was in Coos Bay the other week.” Even if I hadn’t wanted to admit it, I’d been working toward having him over here, little by little making sense of it in my head.
“You got condoms? For me?” Mason’s eyes were wide, mouth slack. He looked way too touched for a simple ten-buck purchase on my part.
“No one else I’m gonna use them with,” I mumbled. We hadn’t ever talked about exclusive or anything like that. Hell, Steve and I had fooled around for years and never had that conversation.
“Me, either. Not right now.” Mason tugged me down onto the bed next to him. Lord, I liked knowing that. I kissed him with strange urgency, trying to put my gratitude into the kiss without crossing over to sappy places neither of us wanted to go.
Tumbling backward onto the mattress, Mason pulled me over him. “Fuck me.”
&n
bsp; Levering off him, I ordered, “Flip.”
Mason frowned. “Between the bath and the fishing, my legs are jelly. Can’t we do it like this? Just once?”
It was true that for all our fucking I had a bit of…a routine, I guess you could say. Mason hadn’t complained before, though. I hesitated, not sure how to reply.
“Is it the exposed thing again?” he said gently. “I want to see your face when you fuck me. And we can kiss this way. If you’ve never done it this way, I think you might surprise yourself—”
“I’ve done it before.” My voice was gruff. True, this position wasn’t typically my first choice, but for Mason, for the soft openness in his eyes, the sweet curve of his mouth, the warmth of his touch, I’d make the effort. Hell, I’d carry him clear past the mountains if I thought it would get me another of his smiles. Reaching over to the nightstand, I grabbed the unopened box of condoms and the same brand of lube Mason kept at his place.
He grabbed the blanket I kept folded at the foot of the bed, pulling it over my shoulders. “See? Not so exposed. Kiss me again.”
It felt a bit ridiculous, making out under the covers on a sunny July day, but he was right—it did help, not being so…bare. I claimed his mouth hungrily, letting the kiss stoke my fire again until we were bucking against each other. Getting a hand on his thigh, I hitched his leg over my waist so that my fingers could delve a bit lower. He hissed in a breath.
“Too sensitive?” I whispered. “I can go like this—”
“Stop worrying about me, Nash. Fuck me.”
I already knew that he wasn’t one for a lot of fingering, instead liking a slow and steady start, so I took care of the condom and lube, getting him slick, but not teasing. I went to my knees between his legs, blanket fluttering to the floor, but I was too far gone to care. Holding the base of my cock, I pressed against his rim, letting him rock against the pressure.
“That’s it,” I praised. “Let me in. Gonna make you feel so good.”
“Yeah, you are,” he groaned. His head fell back as I breached the tight inner ring of muscles, and I had to admit this position had certain advantages. I might not want to be watched, but doing the watching, seeing the way his face alternately tensed and went slack, made the blood in my cock throb.
Trust with a Chaser (Rainbow Cove Book 1) Page 14
