Page 155 of In at the Deep End

A heartbeat later, their lips met in a lingering kiss, Owen’s hand on Matt’s neck, feeling the beat of his heart beneath his fingertips. Matt sank slowly, Owen’s cock inching its way into tightness that took his breath away. He didn’t move, didn’t hardly breathe, waiting until Matt gave him a signal.

At last he was all the way home, Matt’s hole gloriously tight and warm around his shaft. Matt rolled his hips, and Owen let him do all the work, Matt’s hands on his chest, his gaze locked on Owen’s. He tilted his hips, rocking in and out, each thrust punctuated by Matt’s soft noises, Matt’s hand on his cock, tugging it, squeezing it.

“Owen… I want to come inside you.” Matt’s chest heaved.

His breath caught in his throat. “Do it.”

Matt lifted himself off Owen’s dick, shifted to kneel at his arse, and raised Owen’s leg to rest it on his shoulder.

Then he slid back home.

Owen worked his own cock, matching Matt’s thrusts, until both of them were panting, both shuddering, both clearly close to the finish.

Matt came first, pulsing into Owen’s body, and Owen felt every throb of his dick, felt the warmth that filled him. He stilled inside Owen, his body shaking, until Owen knew he was spent.

Then Matt pulled out of him, sat astride Owen’s hips, and once again, Owen’s shaft buried itself in tight heat.

Too much.

He came with a whimper, shooting hard, his fingers digging into Matt’s hips as he clung to him, body trembling as he emptied himself into Matt, the smell of Matt filling his nostrils. Matt covered Owen with his body, and Owen wove his fingers through Matt’s hair as they kissed, both shaking, both of them breathing erratically.

Owen kissed Matt’s damp forehead, his nose, his cheeks, and finally his lips. Matt collapsed onto him, and Owen held him close, his heart hammering.

I didn’t expect this.

The island had stopped being somewhere Owen wanted to revisit, and had instead become somewhere he wanted Matt to remember. And after the uncertainty of the past week, it hadn’t provided him with answers, just the quiet certainty that whatever this was…

He didn’t want it to stop.

Chapter Thirty

The ferry pulled out of East Cowes, pausing now and then to weave its way through all the boats filling the Solent. Matt hadn’t had a clue what Cowes Week was, or that boat owners from around the world would descend on the small town to celebrate sailing with races, a lot of Pimms and fizz, and fireworks.

He stood beside Owen on the upper sundeck, the ferry’s engines humming beneath his feet as the two halves of the town slowly disappeared from view.

Almost forty-eight hours ago, he’d boarded the ferry convinced he’d fallen in love with a man who couldn’t possibly love him back.

And now?

He wasn’t sure of anything.

His thoughts drifted back to the previous evening.

That wasn’t casual.

It couldn’t be.

He still had no idea what name Owen would give to whatever existed between them. Maybe Owen didn’t know himself. But somewhere over the course of the weekend, Matt had stopped trying to convince himself he was simply another chapter in Owen’s life.

Nobody handed over that kind of trust to someone who didn’t matter.

He smiled to himself.

For the first time since Eric had uttered those terrifying words—You’re in love with him—they no longer felt like the beginning of a tragedy.

They were more like the beginning of a story whose ending hadn’t been written yet.

Owen watched the wake stretching out behind the ferry.