Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Randall
That was the moment when I really should have been thinking, Holy fuck, what have I done? When images and memories of his parents should have been flashing through my head; when the silly crush I moved an ocean’s length to get away from should have haunted me.
Instead, all I could focus on were his dancing eyes and his lithe, fit, sexy body. And the way I felt like I could float up to my loft. And the fucking folded laundry, which was currently the only thing covering my naked bits as a flirty quip came out of my mouth, like I seduced guys all time.
The reality was, I’d owned the cabin for six months and had never had a guest over, assuming contractors didn’t count. And before that, well, before that I’d stuck it out in a shitty marriage because at least I wasn’t alone.
I’d said the thing about the shower but then sat there, running my fingers over the soft material of my boxer briefs, thinking about my nakedness and that of the man in front of me.
Then Austin kneeled, hands resting on my knees, his face in front of mine. I knew he was looking at me, much as I didn’t look up, focused as I was on that pile of clothes, but I smiled and he tilted his head.
“I’m making this weird, aren’t I?” I asked.
“But you’re doing it with an adorable British accent and with those glasses on, which makes it superhot.”
“Do we need to talk about …” I began, not wanting to mention his parents.
“No. I don’t think we do. And certainly not while we’re both naked,” he agreed with my unspoken thought.
I was quiet for another awkward amount of time, and Austin simply waited, his warm hands comforting, his soft tilted head letting me know that he would wait until I was ready for the next move.
The weight of his hands should have felt like they were holding me down; instead, the feeling that I could float around the vaulted ceiling of my cabin came back in full force.
We didn’t need to talk about anything, and I didn’t need to think about my past. I could just be there with him in that moment.
“Well, that’s gonna be a problem, then.” I may have tried to play up a British accent. “Because the snow’s picking up, and I’m kinda envisioning that we don’t need to be not naked again for a very long time.”
I still wasn’t looking his way, but I knew he could see my smile getting bigger. He titled his head even further, and I finally did look directly at him, to find his eyes dancing. “I think I would like that.”
“Yeah,” I said, or croaked. Then I moved a hand to his face, shifting both of us to a less forced position.
After all we’d done, that simple move, the touch of a few fingers on his face, felt explosively intimate.
I didn’t know something could be soft and simple and subtle and explode like a firework inside of me all at the same time.
“Let me warm you up”—my brain took a left turn then—“in the bath.”
It was his turn to stutter a little on the reply.
“Yes, yeah, that sounds perfect.” I brushed a simple kiss against his lips, my fingers still gently moving on his jaw, just a soft touch, not holding him in place.
I had to stop myself from agreeing with his choice of words: the moment had been perfect.
“I’ll get it started,” I said as we both stood, and I dropped the clothes to the couch.
Then I walked, naked, to the bathroom, sensing, knowing that Austin’s eyes were on me.
I opened the bathroom door and turned to share a smile with him.
I worried I wasn’t tempering my emotions, but the way Austin was looking at me made me think my own feelings weren’t too far off the mark.
I thought it was highly likely that Austin and I wouldn’t be able to get through these snowy days without having a bit of a conversation if we were going to continue to look at each other like that.
I started the water running in the large soaker tub, then rooted through the cabinets and drawers in the room, almost certain I had stashed a birthday gift one of the women I worked with had sent me from London.
Buried under an equally unused dildo that another friend had sent along in the package from England was a box of something called bath bombs.
There were six of them, all different fragrances, and deciding which to choose became too much of a challenge. I leaned out the door to find Austin toying with the logs in the fire. He stood and smiled at me again, comfortable and content, his skin aglow in the light of the blaze.
“You ready for me?”
“In that I need your help, yes. Most definitely.” I waved the box of scented balls. “Summer breeze, lilac, or linen-fresh?”
He laughed. “What do you usually use?”
“I don’t … usually … bathe. These were a gift from some friends in London. They sent them for my birthday, after I moved here. And that’s … a lot of information … about the”—I waved the box, then read from it—“scented bath bombs.”
He had been walking toward me as I blathered on, which was perhaps the reason for my awkwardness, and before long, he was crowding me in the doorway and kissing me.
I was leaning on the doorframe, which was perhaps the only thing keeping me upright as he grabbed my ass in one hand and my neck in the other, pulling me close and kissing me like I had said something suave and sexy.
I melted into him, our bodies flush, his mouth gentle but insistent as his tongue asked for entry.
It was a question he need not have asked as I tilted my head and opened up for him immediately.
He groaned—it was a sound I was truly coming to love—as he entered my mouth, licking along my own tongue and pulling me closer, his hand running through my hair until he had me gripped possessively by the neck, his other hand ensuring that there was no air between our groins.
It felt like an eternity but at the same time too soon when he pulled his head away, both arms on my shoulders as he leaned back to look at me. I stumbled a little. His grip on me tightened as my feet found purchase, and I could feel an embarrassed blush travel up my neck.
It had been a long time since I’d let myself get into a situation where I felt that embarrassed, but for some reason, I didn’t much mind it while I was wrapped up in his arms, a lopsided smile on his face and our mostly down-for-the-count cocks sharing space.
“How about we go with a sense of irony and give summer breeze a try.”
“Sounds perfect.” I sounded so serious as I said it.
“Parfect,” he teased.
“I’m from Kansas, for fuck’s sake!” I joked right back as my whole being floated away from me, and I fought to unpackage a summer breeze-scented bath bomb. I walked into the bathroom and sat on the closed toilet lid, Austin walking in right behind me.
“Holy fuck, London. What exactly did you have in mind for this bath?”
I was a bit too focused on the clinging plastic wrap to have any idea what he was talking about, though I did clock the nickname and smiled inwardly at the feeling of acceptance and connection it gave me.
“Huh?” I muttered distractedly as Austin picked something up from the counter.
Shit, not just something, the novelty, confetti-patterned dildo my friends had sent me from England.
“Oh!. I … No. The dil … That. That came from my friends. The same group that sent these. In a package, from England. For my birthday,” my voice fizzled as I explained.
I went back to focusing, very carefully, on the impossible-to-remove plastic wrap.
“These silly things were buried underneath it. I didn’t mean to …
I only took it out to get to these.” I waved the package again.
“Pity,” Austin said, and from the corner of my eye—I couldn’t look up at him quite yet—I saw him tap it in his other hand. He put it on the counter and did that thing where he forced his face into my line of vision. “I’d love to see you play with that sometime. Maybe, you know, I could help.”
“I don’t really play with it. That’s why it's buried in a drawer, here in the bathroom I never use, along with the bloody bath bombs I’ve also never used.” I tensed my hands in frustration, and Austin took the box from me without looking away.
“Bloody,” he commented before pecking my lips and tearing into the plastic on his first try.
“I loosened it for you,” I snarked a little petulantly, then worried immediately that my bratty teasing might make him angry. It had always rubbed David the wrong way.
I looked up to find that smile that was like a hallucinogen to me lighting up his whole face. I was floating again as he leaned down and pecked another kiss to my lips. “And I thank you for it, babe … I mean, London.”
The laugh I released may have sounded small, but in my heart a chorus of cupids sang “hallelujah” at his reaction.
The tub was filling, and Austin went and sat on the edge, running his hand through the water to test the temperature. “I think it’s ready for us. But the real question is, are you ready for a summer breeze?”
“I really think I am.”
He casually tossed the ball into the water and just as casually followed it in, looking at me expectantly as a world of thoughts flashed movie-trailer style in my head, and I worked to tamp each one down.
You’re thinking too loudly, I chastised myself as I lifted up from the toilet and climbed into the tub, trying very hard not to think about how exposed I felt, with my naked bits at his eye level as I hoisted one leg, then the other, into the warm water.
I stood indecisively for a moment before turning and lowering myself so that my back rested on his chest. He immediately wrapped me in his arms, and I settled in, all thoughts vanishing as sensations surrounded me: the warmth of the water, the slight tickle of the bath bomb near my leg, the embrace of his arms around me.
The subtle, though not-quite-natural, smell of a summer breeze.
I leaned back into him and inhaled deeply. “If I close my eyes, it’s like I’m in Brighton.”