Chapter 2
CHARLIE
PRESENT DAY, MIAMI
T onight, was the fucking night.
Emphasis on the word ‘fucking’.
I’d finally overcome my stupid obsession with Kiernan. It had taken me weeks, but I was here, and it felt damn good.
I was sitting in a packed bar and made eye contact with a sexy bear of a man standing nearby. I motioned towards the back of the venue, anticipation flooding my veins. My cock filled, and my tight jeans made it obvious to anyone who saw me stand up that I was ready for a good time.
Yeah, I wanted this sexy stranger on his knees for me. In the cramped stall of a bar bathroom.
Hey, it’s where the best blowjobs happen.
I sauntered down the familiar hallway and entered the first room on the right. With dim lights and black tile, the space set the perfect mood for random fucking.
I walked to the last stall at the end and stepped inside.
The stranger followed, and fuck, he was massive. A few inches taller than me and wider to boot.
The fact that he resembled a certain bodyguard I had vowed to forget was not lost on me in that moment.
But then, I’d always had a thing for big guys. I got off on watching alpha males get down on their knees for me. It gave me a heady rush, and I made no apologies for it.
“I’m negative. I can show you my results.”
The stranger nodded and leaned down to kiss me, but I turned my head away.
“Not into that. Suck me off.”
He dropped to his knees obediently and I felt my balls tighten. Yes, this was good.
It was perfect.
I didn’t want to think or talk anymore. I needed oblivion.
“Fuck, yes,” the stranger commented as he unzipped my jeans and pulled out my leaking cock. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”
Shit.
All it took was four simple words to turn my hard-on to a semi.
Why did the guy have to go and totally ruin the moment by asking for my name?
He was hot, no doubt, but this right here wasn’t the start of a relationship of any kind. I needed to make that very clear.
It was simply a release. I got off, he got off. That’s it.
The fact that I didn’t bother to ask his name when I motioned to the bathroom five minutes ago should’ve been his first clue. The fact that he followed me in without asking for mine should’ve been the second.
Not exactly first date material. Okay, maybe in porn.
I looked down at his blue eyes, but they were staring back at mine a little too long, and way too hopeful.
Of all the sexy, gay men in Miami, I had to choose this one.
“Does it matter?” I mumbled in response, my brain thankfully working enough for me to speak.
“I’m about to swallow your load, so, yes, it fucking matters!” he snapped.
What was happening right now?
Names, ages, jobs—none of that knowledge was required in a hookup.
I wanted a hot, willing mouth to fuck. And I thought he wanted a hot, willing dick to suck.
Sounded like a fair trade to me.
Unfortunately, this turn of events made my dick lose interest and I shook my head.
Jesus Christ.
“I can’t do this.”
I was about to offer my hand to help the guy up, but he gave me a death glare that had my painfully full balls retracting.
Before I could say a word, he stood up and slapped the stall door open. After stepping out, he slammed the door in my face.
What the hell happened?
I stayed where I was as I listened to him washing up. When the sound of running water stopped, I heard the heavy click of his footsteps as he walked away.
Another slam, this time the bathroom door.
Shaking my head, I tucked myself in and zipped up. Stepping out of the stall, I quickly washed my hands and glanced at my reflection.
My sleep had been non-existent lately and it was starting to show in the dark circles under my eyes. I’d never dealt with insomnia like this before, and I didn’t know if I should be concerned or chalk it up to stress. Long workdays hadn’t helped my sleep cycle.
Neither did ruminating about a certain Irishman I’d been missing.
Suddenly, a pair of sad amber eyes came to mind.
I shook my head to dispel the image and stared at my undercut.
It was unruly, the wavy black strands hanging down in my face when I didn’t use enough styling crème.
I slicked it back with some water and decided it would do.
I’d stop in a local barbershop tomorrow morning for a trim before I had to report back on duty.
Back to the ship I lived on for most of the year.
Not that I had complaints. I got to travel the world in style, I worked with cool people, and most important of all, there was always something new to learn.
One day I’d reach the level of captain and have my choice of charters to run. For now, I was eager to learn everything I could about managing a twenty-person crew and operating a multimillion-dollar vessel.
It was a far cry from Gainesville and the trailer park life I grew up in.
Still, I was luckier than most. I always had the support of my mom and my younger brother, Travis.
We were close, and no matter what, we relied on each other.
My mom worked her ass off to pull us out of poverty.
I got my insatiable drive to succeed and my strong work ethic from her.
And I never took my job or the life I’d built for myself for granted.
After wiping off my hands, I pulled out my phone and checked my messages and socials. There were the usual updates from friends around the globe, most of whom I’d met in the yachting industry.
And one reminder message, sent two hours ago, from George.
Tomorrow morning, the owner of the ship, Rowan Carter, and his husband Andrew, would be boarding. Not only that, but Rowan’s friends too, including Rafe, Rowan’s brother and George’s husband.
It was, after all, a Christmas charter where we’d be making our way to the Carters’ favorite spot in the Caribbean, the British Virgin Islands. Two weeks of sun, fun, and celebrations. I had no problem working over the holidays when the Caribbean was my backdrop.
I’d miss my family something fierce, but they understood the demands of my job. Not to mention I’d earn double time. I’d been saving for a sailboat of my own and this trip was finally going to make the down payment possible.
And funny enough, Rowan’s entourage had become mine too, so it hardly felt like work at all.
We were all part of the Carter family crew.
As I made my way out of the bathroom, my eyes still locked on my phone, I noticed the word ‘bodyguard’ at the end of George’s text.
Suddenly, I tripped and nearly face planted into the door.
Smooth, Charlie.
Shaking off my clumsiness, I righted myself and shoved my phone back in my pocket.
It wasn’t the bodyguard reference that had me unsettled. Rowan was a billionaire after all, so he always had security with him. No, it was the fact that George hadn’t sent any details about who it was. Only a note to remind all staff, and to ensure we had a crew cabin ready for whoever it was.
It couldn’t be Kiernan. Could it? He’d have said so by now, right?
Then again, we hadn’t texted in two weeks.
And whose fault is that?
I still thought about that trip to Thailand more than any other.
I thought about him more than was smart.
Nerves in my belly kickstarted, and my heart took off running again. Another clue about my sleeplessness.
But I shut that shit down tight. I had no time or energy to lust after someone I had no business chasing. Still, the guilt I felt at going no contact with my friend was persistent and well-deserved. And it was time to reach out to him and apologize.
Shaking off my heavy mood, I headed back out through the packed bar.
I spotted my bathroom buddy sitting at one of the high-top tables, glaring at me like I was the devil himself. It was time to head out of here.
“See you in a few weeks!” I yelled out to Horace, the bartender and owner of Paradise Found. He gave me a big smile and a wave in return.
I made it a habit to stop in here whenever we were docked nearby. And despite the miscommunication tonight, I’d always had good luck finding a hookup at this bar. Guys like me who were only interested in getting off and getting gone.
I stepped outside, and even in late December, the rush of humid air was overwhelming. I decided to walk home since the bar wasn’t far from my condo.
Like most yachties, I tended to get restless on shore leave. But even the most dedicated sailor needs to touch firm ground occasionally. And speaking of firm, it wasn’t too late to stop in at another bar on my way home. The night wasn’t over yet.
Until my phone rang, and I glanced at the screen.
Incoming call: George
This couldn’t be good. The captain never called me on my time off unless it was urgent.
“Hey, George, what’s up?” I answered.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your time off, Charlie, but I need you back on the ship a day earlier. The engine room is down one person. Noah’s been sick with a stomach bug.”
“Ah, shit.”
“Yes, quite.”
“Let me go home and grab my stuff and I’ll be on board within an hour.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
So much for my plans to get laid tonight…
I walked back to my condo, packed my duffel bag, and headed out.
Forty minutes later I was in a ride-share, pulling into the marina.
Now, Voyager was an impressive superyacht and the largest I’d ever worked on. It had been my home away from home for the past two years, but I was still awed by the size and beauty of the ship every time I spotted her.
We pulled up to the dock and I tumbled out of the cramped car with my bag. The lower level of the ship was dark as I sauntered up and over the plank to the deck.
“Can I see your ID, sir?”
The sudden, deep rumble of an Irish accent startled me, and I pitched sideways, my arms pinwheeling.
Next thing I knew, I plunged into the Atlantic water—phone, bag, and all.
“Fuck!” I yelled out when I surfaced, wiping my eyes.
I stared up—and I mean up—at the six-foot-five frame of Kiernan.
Brawny. Blond. Beautiful.
Straight…
“Fecking hell, Charlie, you all right?” Kiernan asked.
Then he kneeled on the plank, concern etched on his face, and offered me his tattooed hand.
Instead of taking his hand, I passed him my ruined bag and hoisted myself out of the water.
I’d already made a fool out of myself once, I wasn’t about to tempt fate by doing it again.
At least my phone was still lodged in the pocket of my shorts, thank fuck. It was water resistant—or so I was told—so I prayed that it had survived my dunk in the ocean.
“Give a guy some warning next time,” I blurted out, shaking off the water.
Kiernan rose back up to his impressive height. “It was a joke. I thought you saw me on deck.”
“Well, I didn’t. It’s dark,” I replied, and then I finally gazed up at his face.
God, how I’d missed those eyes. The man had the biggest, most soulful brown eyes I’d ever seen in my life. They weren’t hard like the rest of him.
The sadness in them nearly undid me. Nothing had changed since the last time I saw him.
“And I wasn’t expecting you,” I whispered.
There was more truth in that statement than I realized.