Chapter 23
DYLAN
M ax ruined me all right.
Between his provocative words and the intense way he sucked me off—like he was starved for my cock, starved for me—all my senses overloaded.
I still couldn’t believe he was falling for me.
Fuck, just thinking about it choked me up, tears threatening as I was about to come.
I didn’t know what the future held, but I knew I wanted Max to be a part of mine.
I let that thought circle through my mind before my thoughts shut down completely.
I was so turned on that it only took a couple of thrusts of my hips and I shot down his throat, the pulse of my orgasm sweeping me away. I lay there, dazed, panting, eager to return the favor, but my phone pinged with a reminder from Charlie. The boat was ready to leave. Shit.
Max pulled off my spent cock, licking his reddened lips, and the sight made my empty balls tighten again.
“Now that I’ve had my first course, it’s time to head into town for the rest of our meal.”
He smiled as he pulled my briefs and shorts back up.
Stretching across the bed, he passed me my t-shirt.
After I pulled it on he reached up, smoothing out my hair, then ran his hand gently down my jaw, cupping my cheek.
I don’t know if he realized it, but Max was always taking care of me. And I wasn’t going to stop him.
My phone pinged again.
“You sure don’t want to stay here?” I patted the space beside me on the bed, aiming a flirty smile at him.
“How often do you get to see Ro and Andrew?” Max asked.
He looked at me with one raised eyebrow, straightening his glasses and standing up beside the bed.
“I’m going to use the washroom. I’ll meet you up on deck in five minutes.
” It wasn’t a request but a polite order.
One I was happy to follow, because bossy Max was hot as fuck.
I nodded in return and reached for the nightstand, pocketing my cell and grabbing my sunglasses and baseball cap.
I’d probably get dirty looks for wearing such a ratty hat in a fancy French bistro.
But knowing Rowan, he probably booked the whole place.
I sent him a quick text advising that Max would be joining.
We had a short ride into port, the water calm and the sky glowing with late-day light as the sun dipped low.
Ro and Andrew picked us up at the marina, excitedly recounting their afternoon of house hunting as we drove along the winding coastline.
Max and I sat in the back, holding hands as I pointed out the various landmarks on our drive.
I had filmed several movies in the area and attended the Cannes Film Festival twice, so I was no stranger to this part of France.
Max let me drone on with my local knowledge and peppered me with questions.
The two of us sat smiling together like lovesick fools.
Rowan took us north along the coast for another twenty minutes, heading into Villefranche-sur-mer.
The town had half the congestion of Nice but similar stunning views of the sea.
It was laid back and totally charming, in an old-world kind of way.
Historic buildings and shops were painted in soft pastel colors and lined the narrow streets.
People were friendly and respectful. It was a welcoming town that made visitors feel right at home.
We parked near the old port and walked along the cobblestone streets until we reached the main plaza.
Ro and Andrew wandered ahead of us, holding hands.
Not for the first time, I envied them. My hand burned with the desire to take Max’s, but I held myself back, not wanting to risk our privacy because of my selfish need.
Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I focused on the scenery around me.
I loved this section of town since they didn’t allow cars, offering pedestrians a safe and relaxed experience.
Patios dotted every street corner, packed with the chatter of tourists and locals, many sipping on wine or champagne cocktails, enjoying the last hours of daylight.
Soft music filtered out over the hum of the crowd.
“Romantic, isn’t it?” Max said, reading my mind again.
“No question,” I replied, removing my sunglasses to meet his gaze. What would it be like to be here, just the two of us? Walking hand in hand, as a couple. Could that be a wonderful reality for us or was it as far-fetched as one of my scripts?
“Dylan Aylmer, is that you?” A halting French voice echoed behind me, and my heart just about stopped. Had a reporter finally tracked me down?
When I turned, I was greeted by a smirking face with familiar blue eyes.
“Rafe! The fuck? That’s the worst French accent I’ve ever heard,” I chuckled as he leaned forward and gave me a kiss on both cheeks.
Rowan’s brother Rafe had been living in Miami for the past three months, and it showed.
His dark brown hair was lighter, but still long and fastened in a messy bun.
In pink shorts and a white linen shirt, he fit right in with the stylish locals.
Rafe was a few inches taller than Rowan, slimmer and with a stunning profile that graced fashion ads worldwide.
“Is that any way to greet the love of your life?” Rafe winked at me. Before I could do the introductions, Max was at my side, reaching his hand out.
“Max Lowell, I’m Dylan’s ghostwriter. It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard interesting things.”
“Nice to meet you as well, Max.” Rafe shook Max’s hand, but his smile faded. “And if by interesting, you mean you’ve spoken to the captain, ignore him. He’s a ginormous twat,” Rafe scoffed.
I whistled at Andrew and Ro, who were almost at the end of the plaza, and he and Rowan turned around and walked back to greet Rafe.
“My favorite relative,” Rafe said as he hugged Andrew.
“No argument here,” Rowan replied, and Rafe punched his brother playfully in the arm.
“Ow. Do you see what I put up with, Max?” Rowan whined. He pulled his brother in for a hug, then messed up his hair, pulling it out of the bun. “I haven’t seen Rafe in two months, and all I get is a nasty whack on the arm.”
“Shut up and tell us where we’re eating, Ro,” Rafe pouted as he ran a hand through his hair, the brown waves tumbling over his shoulders.
“How can I tell you if I have to shut up?” Rowan smirked. “And we already ate. Too bad, so sad for you.”
Rafe sighed and placed his hands on his hips. “Andrew, how do you put up with my annoying brother?”
“I have my ways to keep him in line,” Andrew replied with a dirty grin and gave his husband a sultry kiss. Rafe made retching noises while Max chuckled, and I tried not to fidget as people nearby stared.
“I’m supposed to be incognito here, can we move it along before we draw a crowd?” I commented as I looked around.
A few passersby glanced at us but kept on moving. I was probably overreacting, but European paps were notoriously aggressive when they spotted a juicy target. Suddenly, I felt like I had a bullseye painted on my ass.
Rafe slipped his right arm through my left one and pulled me along with him. I glanced back at Max, but he was busy talking with Ro and Andrew.
“Dylan, this is Villefranche, not Cannes. The only one who might be photographed by interested tourists is me because, let’s face it, I’m the most gorgeous man in this group.
So stop worrying. It causes wrinkles, and we’re both too pretty to have those.
” Rafe patted my arm, and I chuckled at his antics.
“You don’t even know where we’re going,” I said to him.
“Rowan, where are we going?” Rafe asked without looking back.
“Le Petit Chat. One more block, first building on the right,” Rowan replied. I turned to catch Max’s eyes, but he was still talking with Andrew.
Rafe chatted with me about his life in Miami as we wandered down the street, stopping at the next block in front a green stucco house set on the water’s edge.
A sign in the shape of a black cat with an arrow pointing up greeted us at the entrance.
We entered the courtyard and followed Rowan up the set of stairs.
An elegant patio with a covered trellis overlooked the water.
One long table was set up and marked reservé .
I’d been spot on when I assumed Rowan would book a private space for us.
A young man in a pale-yellow suit emerged from the patio doors and greeted Rowan with a warm hug and European kisses.
“Monsieur Carter, a pleasure to see you again.”
“You as well, Martin. Thank you for the reservation accommodation.”
“For you, de rien. Your private patio, as requested,” he said and gestured to the table. “Phillipe will be with you shortly to take your orders. I’ll leave you to your guests.”
Max took the seat beside me, gripping my thigh under the table. I placed my palm over his hand and squeezed tight. Then I finally looked around and noticed the view, and it was incredible. We could see the entire length of the boardwalk and the water beyond, but no one could see us.
“Hey, isn’t that the captain? Looks like he’s got company,” Max commented.
I looked down and sure enough, George was walking near the water’s edge with a man I didn’t recognize. The two men were deep in conversation until the unknown man placed his hand on George’s back. George turned away, and they began to walk again.
“I hope they can’t see us,” Rafe whispered and placed his sunglasses on.
“We’re hidden up here, Rafe, so don’t worry,” Andrew stated. “I think George is on a date.”
Rafe pulled his menu in front of him like a face shield.
“Why don’t we call him and invite them to join us? There’s room at the table,” Max suggested as he looked at me and winked.
Rafe lowered his menu and gave Max the evil eye. “That’s a hard no. I’d like to actually enjoy my evening.”
“You’re so bad,” I leaned in and whispered in Max’s ear. “And I love it.”
Max turned his head, and I brushed my lips against his, teasing him with a soft kiss. He reared back and his eyes widened.
“Oh shit,” I exclaimed as Rafe, Rowan and Andrew stared at us, open-mouthed. “Oops?”
“You kissed a man in public for the first time and that’s all you have to say?” Rowan stated, staring at me like I’d gone crazy. “What happened to your worries about the press?”
“We’re secluded up here. Plus, I’ve got my disguise on.” I pointed to my baseball cap, but everyone groaned and shook their heads. Tough crowd.
I turned to Max, and saw the worry in his eyes.
“It’s only a matter of time before someone sees us,” he warned. “We need to talk about this, and I need to tell Dante. And you need to discuss this with Warren.”
“I agree,” I said to Max as we stared at each other. I didn’t want to look anywhere else. “But I won’t apologize for kissing you, love. These are my closest friends and I want them to know how much you mean to me.”
“Dylan, baby.” Max shook his head. “You’re killing me here. Why do you have to be so damn irresistible?” he huffed, looking so put out that I burst out laughing. I found Max’s grumbling as charming as the rest of him.
I finally looked around the table and Rafe was sitting there, silent.
“You okay, Rafe?” I asked.
“You’re gay?” he finally squeaked.
“Bisexual, yeah. Sorry if I shocked you.”
“I’m not shocked. I’m happy that you’re comfortable telling—sorry, showing—us. And Max, you lucky bastard. How did you manage to snag Dylan? I’ve been flirting with him for years and nothing,” Rafe joked as he winked at me.
“It’s my secret and I won’t share it. Or him.” Max gripped my leg tighter. His statement was a reminder that we needed to talk about exclusivity. I wanted it, and it seemed he felt the same way.
“I’m the fifth wheel now and I don’t like it. Andrew, can you vet a man for me and help me out? I need a boyfriend,” Rafe pleaded.
“I vet hires for yachting crews, Rafe. I don’t run a dating site,” Andrew chuckled.
“Maybe you should. It’s a similar concept. You evaluate people and determine who makes the cut. This would be no different.” Rafe sighed. “I’m just so sick of hookups.”
I’d never heard Rafe complain about his sex life before. He was always happy to be single and traveling to a new destination. Never tied down to any one person or place.
Fortunately for Andrew, Rafe’s dating woes were interrupted by our server. After we’d ordered, Rowan raised his glass.
“To sun-filled summers in the south of France with the best of friends and family. And to new adventures.”
“Cheers!”
The rest of dinner was leisurely and filled with laughter as Rafe told us stories about his latest modeling gigs and his photography class. Max suggested Rafe had enough material to write his own book. One hour turned to three and next thing we knew it was almost midnight.
Slowly, we walked our way back to the marina, the town now quiet. As we rode the tender to our home away from home, I knew for certain that there were things I needed to say to Max.
Back on board, he and I wasted no time heading for his bedroom.
“I want you so much,” I whispered to him as we quickly undressed each other. “Only you.”
I felt his body tense and wondered if maybe I’d fucked up.
Then he pulled me in tighter and took my mouth in a kiss so hot I thought for sure I was gonna melt into the floor.
Every hidden passion and emotion I’d been afraid to reveal in my life all came tumbling out when I was in Max’s arms. And so did the words.
“I love you,” I whispered as I held his face in my hands.
“I love you too.” There was only gasps and pleas as we lost ourselves to pleasure. We couldn’t get enough of each other.
It took me a lot of years, a lot of soul searching, and one amazing man to finally understand what making love meant. In the past, I would’ve denied that such a thing even existed. But in that moment, in his arms, it was the truth.
It was everything.