4. Remy
Maybe running off to the Caribbean on a whim wasn’t the greatest idea of his life. It had seemed logical enough at the time. After all, he hadn’t taken a real vacation in over a decade. And once he found a new job, it would be a couple years at least before he’d feel comfortable taking any significant amount of time off again.
Since he could apply to jobs just as easily in Martinique as from his condo back home, why not enjoy his unexpected free time?
But now he was just . . . bored.
Bored, annoyed with how loud and drunk everyone in the pool area was, and ready to head back to his room. A glance at his watch told him it was barely past six. The sun hadn’t even finished setting yet. He had plenty of time before bed to search for potential jobs on his laptop.
When he turned toward his building, though, all thoughts of retreat vanished from his mind.
He was here.
The man from the airport—the one wearing a vest and a tropical-print bow tie who accused him of trying to steal a taxi.
Remy had nearly died from embarrassment when he blurted you look hot back at the airport. He said it without thinking, not realizing the double meaning until after the words left his mouth. He’d been about to apologize, but the younger man looked so adorably flustered. What was the harm in having a little fun?
He never thought he’d see the guy again.
Remy’s lips spread into a wide smile as he watched the man pick a path around the pool deck toward a couple of empty loungers. The way his rainbow-striped swim trunks hugged his slim hips drove Remy to distraction. Though he kind of missed the vest and bow tie. They made him look good enough to eat.
Cutting in front of him at the airport may have been an accident. But running into him again here?
This was no accident. It was a fucking sign.
Maybe a little vacation fling was just what he needed.
Remy pulled off his T-shirt, dropping it onto the nearest empty chair. He wasn’t exactly a gym rat, but he took genuine pride in his physique. Might as well stack the cards in his favor as much as he could.
Keeping his eyes on the slim, black-haired man, he wove between loungers and around cabanas. A polo shirt clad waitress just took his drink order, and he reclined back against the bright green cushions, one hand holding a novel, the other behind his head. The position made his flat stomach so deliciously taut that Remy wanted to run his tongue over it. It didn’t take much to imagine him with his hands tied above his head.
Yes, please.
When he got close enough for his shadow to fall on the man’s face, he realized the book was some sort of bodice-ripper romance. The hero and heroine clung to one another on the cover, scantily clad in vaguely Victorian attire. It made Remy smile. “No Tom Ford tonight?” he asked when the man didn’t notice him.
Sea glass green eyes blinked up at him. No recognition. No expression at all, in fact.
Remy’s heart pounded in his chest as they stared at each other. Had he miscalculated? It had seemed like an adorable case of nerves back at the airport, but what if he was completely disinterested?
Fuck, what if he was straight?
No. He may have been out of the dating game for a while, but no fucking way was his gaydar that far off. And besides, he literally had Pride swim trunks on.
At long last, one corner of the man’s lips lifted into the most adorable smirk he’d ever seen. It felt like the sun peeking over the horizon after endless darkness. “Amazingly enough, Tom Ford does make swim trunks. But they cost like seven hundred bucks, and they don’t come in rainbow.”
“I know next to nothing about you,” Remy said, smiling. “And yet it doesn’t surprise me at all that you know that.”
Delight danced in those gorgeous green eyes. Christ, he was like a mischievous little sprite when he looked like that. It made Remy want nothing more than to grab his face and kiss those smirking lips.
“I’m Remy Levene,” he said, holding out a hand.
“Zach.” He put the book aside. “Zach Potter. It’s a pleasure.”
His hand was wonderfully warm and soft. He had a feeling the rest of him would feel the same way.
He only hoped he’d get a chance to test that theory.
“I’m glad we ran into each other again,” Zach said, his gaze lingering on Remy’s abs before shifting back up to his eyes. “To say that I have regrets about how I handled our conversation earlier is an understatement.”
“Oh?” Remy sat on the edge of the lounger, a thrill racing up his spine when Zach didn’t scoot out of the way as their thighs pressed together. “I thought walking away and ignoring me after I practically threw myself at you was awesome.”
Groaning, Zach covered his eyes with one arm. “God, don’t remind me. I’ve been furious with myself ever since it happened. You should’ve seen the group chat with my friends once I got in the cab.”
Remy arched his eyebrows, intrigued. “Show me.” It wasn’t exactly an order, but it hardly qualified as a request either. He wanted to see how the younger man would react.
Excitement sparked in Zach’s eyes. “As you wish.” Picking up his phone, he tapped the screen a few times before handing it over.
Remy couldn’t hold back a grin as he took the phone. This was getting better and better. Not only was Zach clearly down for a night of fun, but he seemed to come more alive when given a command. There were so many delectable ways Remy could?—
His thoughts were interrupted when his gaze fell to the words on the screen. Mr. Sexy, hmm? He liked the sound of that. Then he scanned through the rest of the conversation, and his eyes widened slightly as he glanced back at Zach. The little imp’s look of smug satisfaction made him chuckle. “Okay, I don’t know who this Olivia is, but I feel honor bound to prove her wrong. I am, without a doubt, the best sex you’ve ever had.”
Zach’s answering little smirk was like a jolt straight to his cock. “I like a man who’s sure of himself.”
“I’m more than happy to show you exactly how sure of myself I can be.”
Just then, the waitress returned with Zach’s drink—some sort of bright pink concoction with several pieces of fruit arranged artfully on the rim. Zach thanked the waitress, then put the straw between those smirking lips, looking Remy right in the eye as he sucked down half the drink.
“You’re playing with fire, baby,” Remy said with a slow, lazy smile. “You might just get burned.”
Zach’s laugh was low and throaty and delicious. “Only if I’m lucky.”
“I guess there’s only one more question, then,” Remy said.
Tilting his head to the side, Zach asked, “What’s that?”
“Which room is closer, yours or mine?”