Chapter Eleven #4
Wind whipped past his face as the bike leaned into another curve.
Sasha pressed closer to Quinn’s back, the leather jacket warm beneath his cheek.
Every time they hit a bump, his stomach did this ridiculous flutter thing that had nothing to do with the road conditions.
The motorcycle’s growl traveled up his spine and into his chest, while the forest air mingled with Quinn’s scent, a blend of fresh-cut timber and sun-warmed skin.
The road narrowed as they climbed higher, civilization fading away behind them.
Dense forest pressed in on both sides, sunlight filtering through the canopy in scattered patches.
Sasha hadn’t been this far into the mountains since.
.. well, ever. Give him concrete and coffee shops over nature any day.
Except right now, with Quinn’s solid warmth against him and the world blurring past. Maybe nature had its perks.
The bike slowed, turning onto what could generously be called a dirt path. Branches scraped close enough to make Sasha tuck his knees tighter against Quinn’s hips. After another minute of careful navigation, they emerged into a clearing that made his breath catch.
Holy. Shit.
A waterfall tumbled down a weathered rock face, feeding a pool so clear he could see smooth stones scattered across the bottom. Afternoon sun turned the cascade into liquid diamonds, mist creating tiny rainbows in the air. The whole scene looked like something out of a travel magazine.
The kind of place people paid stupid money to visit.
Quinn cut the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening after the constant rumble. Only the sound of the waterfall’s steady rush filled the space now, punctuated by birds Sasha couldn’t see.
When Quinn said he’d rather surprise him, Sasha had been more than a little hesitant. He didn’t like surprises, especially from a guy he barely knew.
What’re you talking about? You don’t know jack about him. Sasha chose to ignore his nagging inner voice, the one currently reading him the riot act for agreeing to run off into the mountains with a hot guy he’d just met.
But if the giant had nefarious intentions, what a gorgeous scene to— Don’t finish that thought, idiot.
“What do you think?” Quinn twisted to look back at him, pulling off his sunglasses. Hair stuck up in about twelve directions, making him look younger. More approachable. Less like a guy who could probably bench-press Sasha without breaking a sweat.
“It’s...” Sasha replaced the sunglasses he wore for his own. “How did you even find this place?”
“Stumbled on it during a hike last year.” Quinn swung off the bike with that easy grace tall people shouldn’t possess and short people were envious of. “Been my thinking spot ever since.”
“I can see why. This place is a mini paradise. All you need is a drink with an umbrella and a hammock,” Sasha teased.
He climbed off the bike considerably less gracefully, legs wobbling from the ride. His thighs ached in ways that suggested he’d be walking funny tomorrow.
Quinn was already shrugging out of his jacket, revealing a black T-shirt that did criminal things to his shoulders. Sweet baby Jesus. “Water’s perfect this time of year. Not too cold, not too warm.”
The statement filtered through Sasha’s lust-soaked brain, snapping him out of his thirst. For now.
“Uh-uh. Nope.” He took a step back. “I don’t swim.”
“Can’t swim or don’t swim?” Quinn’s grin turned wicked as he toed off his boots. For a moment Sasha forgot what the guy said, wondering how much clothing he was going to strip out of.
“There’s a difference?” Sasha said off-handedly, too busy watching Quinn’s muscles flex as he moved.
“Huge difference, firefly.” Off came the socks. Was he going to strip down to his boxers? Briefs? Please don’t be a tighty-whities guy. “Can’t swim means I’d have to rescue you. Don’t swim means you’re just being stubborn.”
“Maybe I’m being sensibly cautious.” Sasha crossed his arms, trying not to notice how Quinn’s shirt rode up when he stretched. Ugh. He had a happy trail that disappeared under his waistband. Sasha wanted to bite those perfect abs. “That water could have…bacteria. Or fish. Angry fish.”
Quinn’s deep laugh echoed off the rocks. “Angry fish?”
“You don’t know. They could be plotting right now.” Sasha had no clue what he was saying and didn’t care. His gaze was glued to Quinn’s delicious body, silently begging the guy to take off more than his boots and socks.
“Mm-hmm.” Quinn moved closer, and suddenly all that air in the clearing wasn’t quite enough. “Know what I think?”
Distance. Sasha needed distance. He backed up until his calves hit a fallen log. “That angry fish are a legitimate concern?”
“I think,” Quinn said, voice dropping to the kind of rumble that did things to Sasha’s equilibrium, “you’re scared of having fun.”
I’m scared of drowning in you.
He wasn’t sure what it was, but he’d never been attracted to someone the way he was to Quinn. Even now, Sasha’s heart was doing crazy things in his chest, making his breath hitch. He crossed his arms and curled his fingers in to stop himself from reaching out and touching all those hard muscles.
“I have fun,” he croaked out. “I’m extremely fun. Ask anyone.”
“Yeah?” Without warning, Quinn turned and sprinted toward the pool. He launched himself off a boulder, tucking his knees in a cannonball that sent water exploding in all directions.
A startled laugh burst out before Sasha could stop it. “You’re insane!”
Quinn surfaced, hair plastered to his head, grin wide enough to power a small city. Water streamed down his face in small rivulets, catching in his ridiculously thick eyelashes. The water turned his shirt transparent and—
Oh.
Oh no.
Wet Quinn was a problem.
A big, muscled, attractive problem.
The soaked material was plastered to every ridge and valley of his torso, fabric going see-through over abs carved by gods. Water droplets caught the light as they rolled down his neck, disappearing beneath his collar.
“Come on, firefly.” Quinn treaded water with lazy strokes. “Feels amazing.”
“I’m good here, thanks.” Sasha sat on the log, needing distance from the dripping wet temptation. “Someone needs to guard our stuff from…thieving raccoons.”
“Raccoons?” He swam closer to shore, each stroke showcasing shoulders that belonged on the cover of a swimmer’s magazine. “That’s your excuse?”
“It’s a very real concern.”
“Know what’s more concerning?” Quinn reached the shallows, standing up in waist-deep water. More water cascaded down his chest, and Sasha forgot how words worked. “You sitting over there when you could be in here.”
Before Sasha could form a coherent protest, Quinn lunged forward and grabbed his ankle. One firm tug sent him sliding off the log with an undignified yelp.
Cold water shocked his system for maybe half a second before strong arms caught him, keeping his head above surface. Sasha found himself chest-deep in the pool, Quinn’s hands steady on his waist, their faces suddenly much too close.
Quinn’s gaze caught his, and the metallic gray irises seemed to glint like polished blades in the afternoon light.
“See?” Quinn’s voice had gone soft, almost intimate. “Not so bad.”
Water lapped between them. Sasha’s jeans felt like they weighed fifty pounds, his shirt clinging uncomfortably, but all he could focus on was the warmth of Quinn’s hands through the wet fabric. The way golden sunlight caught in the drops on his eyelashes.
The fact that if he leaned forward just a few more inches…
Nope. Too much. Too fast. Too… God, those lips. What was Sasha supposed to be objecting to?
He pressed both hands against Quinn’s chest—holy crap, rock-hard, warm despite the water—and shoved. Not hard, just enough to break whatever spell had ensnared him. Quinn let go immediately, laughing as Sasha doggy-paddled away.
“Jerk,” Sasha called. Hard to be mad when his chest felt light for the first time in weeks. Maybe even months. Quinn looked at him like he hung the moon or something equally ridiculous.
The waterfall beckoned, its steady roar promising to drown out the sound of his racing heartbeat. Sasha struck out toward it with clumsy strokes, his waterlogged clothes making every movement twice as hard. Worth it when he reached the falls, cool spray misting his face.
Tilting his head back, he let droplets patter against his closed eyelids.
When was the last time he’d done something this spontaneous?
This purely fun? Marcus’s threats, the money, his loneliness—all of it felt distant under the cascade’s steady rhythm.
Like problems belonging to someone else, someone who hadn’t just been pulled fully clothed into a mountain pool by a gorgeous stranger.
Air escaped in a slow release, his lips parting slightly as the world seemed to pause around him, offering a tranquility he rarely experienced. A stillness so uncommon in his life.
Water moved nearby. Sasha opened his eyes to find Quinn a few feet away, watching him with an expression that made thinking complicated.
“What?” Sasha pushed wet hair out of his eyes. His glasses were smudged beyond use, turning Quinn into an attractive blur.
“You’re gorgeous.”
The words landed like physical things, making Sasha’s chest ache. A chuckle escaped, high and tight, like it had been shoved out before it was ready. “Right. Drowned rat is exactly the look I was going for.”
Because compliments were even rarer in his life than this stolen moment. Sasha didn’t know how to take it or how to respond in a way that didn’t include a self-depreciating quip.
“I’m serious.” Quinn moved closer, close enough that Sasha could see his expression even through water-spotted lenses.
Every inch of Quinn’s focus was tethered to Sasha.
“The way the light’s hitting your hair right now, turning it copper.
Those freckles across your nose. That smile you’re trying to hide. ”