Chapter Twenty-Four
Twenty-Four
Reece
We spent most of the day on the beach, swimming together in the ocean and relaxing in the sun. Well, Cyrus spent it in the sun. When I started to get too pink for his liking, he set up one of Brok’s umbrellas and parked me under it for the rest of the afternoon.
I sat in the shade, watching him jet along the surface of the ocean before disappearing under the waves.
He’d shoot out of the water and make a big splash as he dove back down, like a more graceful version of a whale’s breach.
Every once in a while, he’d look at me on the shore and flash me a sharp-toothed smile before his voice excitedly echoed in my head: Did you see that?
Cyrus was usually joyful, but this was unparalleled. It was like he was a little kid, making sure I didn’t miss a moment of his antics.
I started to feel the effects of getting up at four a.m. around dinnertime, and when Cyrus noticed me nodding off in my beach chair, we finally packed it in for the day.
When I got out of the shower, I found Cyrus crouched over the counter, prepping dinner in what was probably the smallest kitchen I’d ever seen.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Making dinner,” he said with his casual British snark.
I should have known he had some ulterior motive when he told me to shower by myself.
“Why don’t you let me help?” This was the romantic getaway I’d planned and grocery-shopped for. I was the one who was supposed to be wining and dining him. At least, that was how it had played out in my fantasies.
Cyrus laughed. “There’s barely enough room in here for me. If you help, we’ll practically be on top of each other. Not that I’d mind being on top of you, but you’ve had a long day. The least I can do is make dinner.”
I sighed. There was no way I was going to win this one. “All right. Well, I’m here for moral support.”
“Thank you, darling. And thank you for making sure we’d have everything we’d need.”
“You heard Brok. There’s only one tiny grocery store here and it’s massively overpriced. I figured it would be easier if I just brought everything with us.” I noticed the plate of bare chicken breasts on the counter. “You gonna put something on that chicken?”
He whipped around, glaring at me with his hands on his hips. “Excuse me. I’m the one cooking here. If you’re going to continue being a backseat chef, I’ll have you wait out on the porch.”
I let out a genuine laugh. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to someone else cooking my meals. Well, other than my mother.”
I sounded like a loser. A thirty-five-year-old man who just admitted that the only other person who cooked for him was his mother.
“You better get used to it. Cooking is my love language.” His back tensed up like he was bracing himself for how I was going to respond to that.
“I, uh, I’ve never really cooked for anyone else. But I enjoy it. And I’d like to cook for you.” I scrubbed a hand through my wet hair, suddenly feeling shy. “That was my whole plan, actually.”
“Shit,” Cyrus hissed. “I’m sorry. That was inconsiderate of me. You’ve just had a long day, and you’ve done so much already—”
“It’s okay,” I reassured him. “There will be more opportunities for me to feed you this weekend.”
“Better be feeding me that cock,” he mumbled.
I went up behind him, skated my hand over his hip, and nuzzled my nose against the soft skin along his jawline. My cock wasn’t even remotely hard, but I rotated my hips and pressed it into his back. “You can have that anytime you want,” I whispered, feeling his breath hitch at my words.
He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could find his thoughts, I pecked his cheek and sauntered over to the kitchen table and sat down.
“You’re cruel, you know that?” he tsked.
I took a sip of my water and shrugged. “Consider it payback for all the times you’ve teased me.”
“Well, maybe I do deserve a taste of my own medicine,” Cyrus said with a grin. He fished around in the fridge for a second before pulling out a bottle of my favorite barbecue sauce. “I’m assuming barbecue chicken is okay?”
I nodded. “Yes, please.” It was exactly what I’d planned on making. Simple, fairly healthy, and delicious.
He coated the chicken breasts with the sauce, taking a minute to think when he was finished. “Is oven-baked okay?”
“Yep.”
“Perfect.”
Forty minutes later, Cyrus set a plate of barbecue chicken, steamed broccoli, and mac and cheese in front of me. Yes, I was health conscious, but a serving of mac and cheese every once in a while never hurt anything. Just like the occasional sweet treat. Life was about balance.
“Thank you,” I said, already cutting into my chicken breast.
Cyrus took his seat across from me. “You’re very welcome, darling.”
The chicken was perfectly cooked, slathered in a layer of sticky, smoky barbecue sauce that melted in my mouth.
Cyrus stared at me intently while I chewed.
After I forced down a bite, I said, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He laughed. “I can’t watch you enjoy a meal I prepared for you?”
“I mean, you can.” Heat rushed up my neck to my cheeks. I looked away from him and focused on a little sculpture made out of seashells on the entryway table. “I’m just not used to it.”
“I never expected you to be like this.”
I forced myself to look at Cyrus again. His elbows were on the table, his chin resting on his clasped hands. “Like what?” I asked.
“Well, you’re extremely attractive. From the outside, someone would look at you and think you’d dated around. That you’ve been in plenty of relationships.”
“I’ve just never been interested in anyone that way,” I admitted.
He hid his face in his hands, looking so fucking adorable. “You’re killing me, you know that?” he murmured.
I chuckled. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
—
at the back of the bungalow, there was a little patio that overlooked the ocean. We sat on the uncomfortable wicker sofa and snuggled together. The sun was setting over the ocean, a bright, almost fluorescent orange ball of light surrounded by soft purples and pinks.
“This view is gorgeous,” Cyrus said, trailing his fingers over my thigh.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go down to the beach with your art supplies?” I was barely hanging in there, but if he wanted to go down to the beach to paint, I’d happily lie on a towel next to him.
He shook his head. “There are some moments that are better captured with your memory than with your art.”
“Always so poetic.” I closed my eyes, letting my head fall back.
“Am I?”
“Mm-hmm,” I murmured.
“Tired?”
I slumped my head to the side so I was leaning against Cyrus’s shoulder. “Just a little bit.”
“Do you want to get in bed?” he asked.
I nodded. “Please.”
“Can you walk, or would you like me to carry you?”
I laughed and blinked my heavy eyelids a few times. “I can walk.”
We shuffled inside the house, and I stripped off my shirt and shorts, leaving me in nothing but my briefs.
Cyrus’s eyes roved over my body appreciatively.
It was a shame I was tired.
“Sorry, Cy,” I said when I caught him staring.
“It’s all right, darling. It’s only the first day. We have all weekend to have sex.” He flipped the comforter back and patted the mattress. “Which side would you like?”
It dawned on me that this was the very first time I was going to spend the night with someone I was hooking up with.
At home, I slept in the middle of my king-size mattress, so I guess it didn’t really matter which side. Either way, we were two large guys cramming onto a queen-size mattress. We were going to pretty much sleep on top of each other.
“I’ll take this side,” I said, climbing into bed on the side that was closest to me.
Cyrus took the other, the mattress dipping under the weight of his body. I knew he was strong, but I didn’t realize just how heavy he was.
He kept his tentacles bunched together, respectfully keeping to his side of the mattress, like he wasn’t sure if it was okay to touch me. Or maybe he was just giving me space to make the first move, to let me take things where I wanted them to go.
“Do you want to cuddle?” I asked quietly.
As someone who was averse to touch, it surprised me just how much I craved Cyrus’s.
“Of course I do.” He stretched his arm out across the pillows, making room for me to snuggle up against his body. His tentacles relaxed, draping over my legs and waist, applying gentle pressure like a weighted blanket.
Earlier in the afternoon, we’d cranked the thermostat down to make sure the bungalow would be nice and cool for bedtime. It was almost too cold, but with the blankets and the soft heat radiating off Cyrus, I was comfortable. I was at ease.
“This is the first time I’ve ever done this,” I mumbled with my eyes closed. “And I’m glad it could be with you.”
He stroked his thumb over the bare skin of my shoulder and placed a soft kiss on the top of my head. “Me, too. You have no idea how much.” His voice was tight, almost like he was on the verge of tears.
This was so new for both of us. In the span of a few months, we’d become so much more than just coach and trainee.
I snuggled closer, focusing on the gentle rise and fall of Cyrus’s chest. The way his smooth skin felt under my palm.
“Good night, Reece,” he murmured.
“Night,” I drawled, letting our connection rock me to sleep.