Page 31 of Crease Collision

The fuck? Do I want to look that easy?

KAI: Yes.

Apparently I do.

OSKAR: That makes me very happy.

KAI: Me too. Have a good night.

OSKAR: Same to you, handsome.

Before I think better of it, I send a winky face back. Then I go to the bedroom, scour my favorite porn site until I find a Swedish guy who looks a lot like Oskar, and take care of business. It’s good, but nothing like what’s in store for tomorrow.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

OSKAR

Kai has a lunch of deli food waiting when I arrive. After feasting on chicken soup, a pastrami sandwich with pickles, and a potato knish, I am readier for a nap than for swimming.

“I’m excited you like the water,” he says as we put away the leftovers. “I thought we’d go to the rooftop pool first, and we can swim indoors when we need a break from the sun.”

“Unless you would like a nap first,” I say. “I am stuffed.”

He snorts. “Something tells me if we go to bed, I’ll be the one who’s stuffed. We’d never make it to the pool.”

I close the refrigerator and turn to look him over. He is wearing swimming trunks and a New York Condors T-shirt. I almost ask if he goes to many of their games, but I don’t. Until I am prepared to tell him what I do, I don’t want to talk about hockey. I want him to like me for the person I am, not what I do for a living.

“You are always handsome,” I say, “but today you are glowing even before the sun touches you.”

He flinches. It is slight, but the uncertain look on his face is not. It reminds me of how I feel when I am not sure what someone means.

“You are very beautiful,” I tell him. “That is what I was trying to say.”

He arranges his lips back into a smile. “Thank you. You should get changed. If we don’t go up there now, we may not make it.”

The rooftop pool turns out to be surprisingly large, but since it is a weekday, not many people are here. After we claim lounge chairs and spread out our towels, I take off my T-shirt. Kai’s lips part as he rakes his eyes over me. His hungry expression is so exciting I start getting hard.

He notices, and a moment goes by before he raises his eyes to meet mine. Very slowly, he removes his shirt and tosses it on a table without looking away. I take my time studying him. His muscles are so pumped I wonder if he worked out before I came over. The hard outline of his cock is impossible to miss. I loved having him in my mouth, and if we were inside now, I would peel his trunks off him and enjoy another feast.

“Let’s try the water,” I say. Before he can answer, I run to the pool and jump in.

When I return to the surface, he is right there beside me. We swim for a few minutes, warming up, and then agree to race. He wins the first contest by a hair, and I call for another. This time, I come out in front.

“You cheated.”

Instead of kissing the smirk off him, I ask, “How did I do that?”

“You hit the water before I finished counting off.”

I shake my head, and he laughs as I splash him.

“That does not mean I dove early,” I say. “I have fast reflexes. It is not my fault if you are getting old.”

He scoffs loudly. “I am not getting old.”

“I believe you are older than me.”

“Not by much.” Though his smile has returned, he manages to sound indignant. “How old are you, hotshot?”