Cruising

by Sean Ashcroft

  This is what making love feels like.

  I’d come twice by the time he finished, a soft, satisfied sigh the only sign he gave. It didn’t feel like coming was the point, though. For once in my life it wasn’t about the physical pleasure of being touched and stroked and fucked—not that I was complaining about any of that. It was about…

  Being with Rowan. Being close to him. Shared pleasure and shared breath and the simple joy of shared space. The feeling of his skin against mine, his breath tickling my hair, the taste of his mouth becoming almost as familiar as the taste of my own.

  Maybe I was ridiculous for thinking it, but I didn’t care. This was different.

  I didn’t want to give it up.

  If I snuggled a little more enthusiastically than usual after, Rowan didn’t seem to notice, busy catching his breath as the sweat dried on his skin.

  I liked him like this, too.

  I loved him like this.

  I loved him, period.

  I’d almost said it earlier, but I knew better. Knew better than to pin my heart and my hopes on him, because I knew he was too good for me.

  Pretty didn’t carry you all that far when you were a grownup, looking for another grownup to share a life with.

  It was too easy to imagine coming home to Rowan, and it hurt like an unrequited crush.

  “Think I’m developing a taste for that,” Rowan said, wrapping an arm around me.

  “Sex?” I asked, trying to hold back a laugh and failing miserably.

  “You,” Rowan said, because he was just determined to be the best boyfriend anyone had ever had tonight.

  He’d learned to dance for me. For me. Because he thought that was what I wanted, as though he wasn’t already perfect enough.

  “Sex with you,” he clarified. “But this, too.”

  “Cuddling?” I asked, pushing aside everything except how much I liked the way our skin was sticking together where we were touching, how much I liked the smell of Rowan's aftershave mingling with his natural scent, and whether or not it’d be a dealbreaker if I sniffed him.

  Maybe if I just… pressed my nose to his chest.

  “You’re teasing me,” he said. “Mercilessly.”

  “It’s affectionate,” I grinned, breathing in his scent happily.

  “And now you’re sniffing me like a dog saying hello.”

  “This isn’t your butt,” I pointed out. “You smell really good after sex.”

  That shut him up, and when I forced myself to look up at him, he was blushing.

  “You also sound great,” I added. “Just a little husky. It’s really hot. I never want to have sex with you more than right after I have.”

  That was a lie, but it was a flattering lie, and it made Rowan blush harder, so I figured it wouldn’t land me on Santa’s naughty list or anything.

  I wanted to have sex with him an equal amount all the time, more or less.

  “Give me a minute and I’ll see what I can do,” he said.

  He would have, too. Rowan would have taken just enough time to catch his breath and then rolled over and at least tried to do something for me. Probably would have succeeded, too, because even the thought of it was enough to send a pang of want to the pit of my stomach.

  Not the thought of sex, but the thought that Rowan wanted to make me happy that badly.

  “Rather cuddle,” I said, snuggling closer to him. “Tired.”

  “Gonna need another vacation after this one to recover,” Rowan murmured, pressing a kiss into my hair.

  “Right? It’s been…”

  “An experience,” Rowan finished for me.

  Yeah. An experience.

  I knew that was what I was to him—a story to tell later. That’d been the deal, and the fact that we were having sex now didn’t change that this whole thing was a deal.

  For the rest of the cruise.

  The fact that I’d let myself get attached was my problem, not his.

  I hummed, letting my eyes fall closed, focusing on Rowan's breathing and the slowing beat of his heart. At least I’d have this. The memory of what it could be like.

  Rowan had given me more than he understood. The experience of being with a decent man. Something to aim for next time.

  “Nassau tomorrow,” Rowan said. “Excited?”

  “So excited,” I admitted. Not only did I get to see a place I’d always wanted to, I got to see it with someone who didn’t mind me being a huge nerd about it. “Wear comfortable shoes.”

  Rowan snorted. “Planning to wear me out?”

  “Absolutely.” I grinned. “Free foot massage after. Promise.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” Rowan said, his chest rising and falling with a content sigh. “Are we hunting for buried treasure again?”

  I laughed. “I only dragged you out there so we could have ten minutes of peace and quiet.”

  “I know,” Rowan said. “I appreciated it. You’ve been a very good boyfriend, fake or otherwise.”

  My stomach twisted. I didn’t want to think about this anymore, how close it was to ending. Nassau was the last stop, and then one day of sailing back to New York, and then…

  “What would you have done with your half?” I asked, hoping the change of subject wasn’t too transparent. The last thing I wanted was to make our last two days together awkward by letting Rowan know I was way more invested in this than he was.

  “My half?”

  “Of the treasure, if we’d found it.”

  “Ah.” Rowan paused, hummed thoughtfully, and nuzzled my hair. “Depends on how much the half is worth, I suppose. And are we talking about culturally valuable artefacts or like… gold doubloons.”

  “Does it matter?” I asked.

  “Of course it matters. Art, I’d return to wherever it was from in the first place. Have them put a little plaque beside it to say I’d donated it. There’s been enough art stolen in the world, and pirates, cool as they were, were still thieves.”

  “Point,” I said, knowing I shouldn’t have been surprised at how much thought Rowan was putting into this. “Okay, let’s assume it’s just… gold. No particular value other than the weight. A million dollars’ worth each.”

  Rowan hummed again. “A million dollars wouldn’t go all that far these days,” he said. “Might… I dunno. Invest it and live on the interest?”

  “Could you live on the interest on a million dollars?” I asked.

  “In New York? Probably not. But so far New York has given me a dozen close calls with cabs and a stomach ulcer, so maybe it’s not the best place in the world for me.”

  “This is the first time I’ve left,” I said. “Stomach ulcer?”

  “It’s healed now,” Rowan murmured. “Pro tip though, try not to develop one.”

  “I’ll take that advice,” I promised, a wave of tenderness washing over me at the thought of Rowan in pain.

  I was so, so deep in, here. The thought of him hurting hurt.

  “What would you do with your half?” Rowan asked.

  “Move to an apartment where I could keep a cat,” I said. “Work part-time and take up illustrating children’s books on the side.”

  “I take it that doesn’t pay all that well?”

  “No. But imagine going into bookstores and having a whole gaggle of kids swarming around your feet because you drew their favorite book. Imagine getting a note from a parent about them wearing it out.”

  “I have a niece and a nephew,” Rowan said, which I knew, because he’d picked up about five hundred things each for them. “Which is about the maximum number of kids I can handle at once. I love them, but…”

  “But you’re not coming to my book signings.” I grinned.

  “I’d come to them if it was you,” Rowan murmured, and I felt as though the floor had just been yanked out from under me.

  He had a way of just saying things like that, the sweetest, most mundanely romantic things.

  Like when he’d offered to learn to cook for me. Like n
ow, when he was saying he’d put up with something that was too much for him because I wanted to do it.

  Not only that, but…

  This was a glimpse of what life could have been with him. I suddenly got Andries and Tyler. Andries was quiet and serious—with a fun streak you had to work a little to get out of him—and Tyler was…

  Well, he was like me.

  This must have been what their life was like. Easy compromises, made because they loved each other and liked spending time together.

  I’d been so distracted by the idea of their openness that I’d never really thought about the rest, but now…

  Now I understood how it all worked.

  And how it could have been with Rowan if this wasn’t all a stupid fantasy.

  “Lee?” Rowan asked. “Did I say something wrong?”

  How could he still be worried that anything he said could be wrong?

  “No,” I tilted my head to look up at him, then summoned some hidden strength to get up so I could kiss him again.

  “No,” I repeated, easing myself on top of him and bending down to rub our noses together, pecking his lips softly as he watched me, still flushed and dark eyed. “I don’t think you’ve ever said anything wrong to me.”

  “I…”

  Love you.

  Rowan swallowed, throat bobbing, searching my face with uncertain eyes.

  “I’ve been trying very hard not to.”

  Right. Of course.

  Not I love you. I was stupid for even thinking that.

  “You’ve been succeeding,” I murmured, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “I don’t think you realize how sweet some of the things you say are.”

  “Probably not,” Rowan said. “No one else has ever told me.”

  “That.” I paused to peck his lips again, trailing my fingertips up his throat. “Is criminal. You should be surrounded by half a dozen beautiful men at all times, telling you how kind and sweet and thoughtful you are.”

  “Sounds exhausting,” Rowan murmured, threading his fingers through my hair. “Can I stick with just the one I have?”

  And there he was again, taking my breath away by just… saying things like that.

  “Yeah.” I swallowed again. “Yeah, you can.”

  23

  Rowan

  Lee's excitement from the moment we docked in Nassau was infectious. He smiled easily even at the worst of times, but now he was grinning ear-to-ear, tugging me down the wharf and then stopping dead.

  “Woodes Rodgers Walk,” he said, pointing at a sign. “Woodes Rodgers Walk. He was the British governor who ended it all.”

  That much, I knew. It’d become obvious early on that my enthusiasm for pirates didn’t even begin to match his, but I was enjoying it all the same.

  Lee's easy childlike joy was something I’d lost myself years ago, but I could feel it starting to come back when I looked at him.

  Whatever else had happened on this cruise, I owed him for that.

  “Imagine being here three hundred years ago,” he said, breathless. “Stepping off your ship and walking down toward the market, the whole place packed with pirates. Fights breaking out in the street, people hauling stolen cargo, singing drunken sea shanties…”

  “So like New York,” I said.

  Lee turned, grinning at me. “New York had enough of its own problems at the time,” he said. “Pirates would probably have been a relief.”

  “I meant New York on any given Tuesday.”

  “I know,” Lee squeezed my hand. “I’m just overcome with the need to be a huge nerd about all this.”

  “I’m enjoying you being a nerd,” I said. “You look happy.”

  “I am,” Lee said, tugging me toward the city ahead. “Come on.”

  He clearly knew where he was going, and I didn’t mind following at all. Left to my own devices on this vacation, I probably would have gotten off the ship, headed to the nearest coffee shop, and camped out there working on reports that wouldn’t be due for months and sifting through paperwork I probably could have ignored.

  Lee had dragged me out of my shell and shown me the world.

  “I have to apologize in advance for this,” he said as we came to a stop. “This is the tackiest, most touristy imaginable thing and I know you’re gonna hate that. I hate it, but I’d never forgive myself for not going. I’ll make it up to you.”

  I looked across the street and saw exactly what he was talking about. The building was painted a deep crimson, a shade that must have been hard to maintain in the year-round Nassau sunlight. Along the wall were huge wooden plaques, each one of them cut out to look, I assumed, like a different pirate flag. I recognized the skull and crossed swords of Lee's favorite—Calico Jack—on the top row.

  “Your pirate boyfriend,” I said, pointing it out to him.

  A pirate museum. A tacky, touristy pirate museum that, yeah, under normal circumstances, I would have hated. But not when Lee was right there with me.

  Lee blinked at me. “You remembered.”

  I scratched the back of my neck. Was I not supposed to remember that?

  Or was this another one of those things I said, where I didn’t understand how sweet it was?

  I was starting to think Lee had a warped perception of what was sweet and what was taking an interest, but as long as he was enjoying my company, I didn’t really mind.

  “I can hear the cogs turning in your head,” Lee said. “Yeah, you’re being sweet again.”

  “I was just… listening when you told me.”

  Lee nodded. “I know. I don’t think you realize how rare that is.”

  It shouldn’t be, I thought. What kind of person could possibly be in a position to keep Lee, forever, and say no?

  The same kind of person who didn’t listen to him, who’d clearly treated him like an interactive sex toy and been annoyed that he was actually a person.

  The things I loved most about Lee were the person things. The way he smiled so easily, the way his eyes sparkled when he was having a good time, his sense of adventure, the way he kept holding my hand as though I was nothing to be ashamed of, even for him.

  The things I loved most about Lee.

  Shit. Shit.

  It’d been on the tip of my tongue last night and I’d bitten it back because this was a time-limited agreement we were supposed to be walking away from two days from now.

  “You deserve to be listened to,” I said. “And you don’t need to make this up to me. Might even be fun.”

  Lee's whole face lit up, and my heart paused for a beat.

  Of course I’d gone and fallen for him. He had to be the easiest man in the world to love. Even if he left his towels on the floor and had started a belching contest with Tyler this morning which Andries had—not seriously—threatened to divorce him over.

  Those things didn’t matter. I’d fallen in love with the things that did.

  “Making it up to you might be fun, too,” Lee said, wiggling his eyebrows. “Come on.”

  There were tears of laughter in Lee's eyes by the time we burst out of the pirate museum and into the sunshine again. He was laughing so hard he had to prop himself up against the wall outside, wiping his eyes and clutching his side as he gasped for breath.

  “Okay, okay,” he said. “That… that was the worst, tackiest, most cynically touristy thing I’ve ever done in my life and you took it so seriously.”

  I scratched behind my ear, feeling the heat of a blush creep toward the tips.

  “Didn’t want to ruin it for you,” I mumbled.

  “I’m not laughing at you,” Lee assured me. “I’m flattered that you managed to keep a straight face for my sake.”

  “They spelled Woodes Rodgers wrong,” I said. That wasn’t the worst thing I’d seen—ancient mannequins that were practically falling apart, outright comedic dioramas of pirate life… everything I would have expected from a tourist attraction aimed at families with children.

  We’d been the only adults
in there who didn’t have children with them.

  “I know,” Lee gasped through tears, stumbling over and taking my arm, clinging tightly to me as we walked away. “I loved every minute of that,” he added, resting his head against my shoulder.

  “You did?”

  Lee nodded, straightening as we rounded the corner. “Reminded me what made pirates so exciting when I was little,” he said. “I… I haven’t spoken to my dad in… oh, fifteen years, maybe?”

  “Oh.”

  “He walked out,” Lee said, pulling me over to a shaded café table. “Sit. I’ll get lunch, you don’t wanna hear this.”

  I opened my mouth to say that I did want to hear it, that I wanted to hear all about his life and everything he wanted to tell me about it.

  That I couldn’t get enough of him, and I doubted I ever would, and I…

  No. No.

  That way lay heartbreak.

  Luckily, Lee was too quick for me, already at the counter flirting with the barista. He flirted endlessly, with everyone, and I was only just realizing that it was because he wanted desperately to be liked.

  Lee didn’t have any friends, either. Not real friends, not the kind he could talk to about his hopes and dreams or text at one in the morning about something funny he’d seen today.

  Neither did I. For completely different reasons, but I was starting to see that we were both in the same boat. Aside from being on the same cruise together.

  He was lonely, and I was lonely, and that was why we’d stuck together.

  I was his friend, now. Whatever else had happened between us, Lee was the best friend I’d had in a long time.

  That, I thought, I could keep.

  Especially when he returned with a broad smile on his face and passed me a cup of coffee.

  “I love you,” I blurted out, my stomach swooping as soon as I heard what my own stupid tongue had just done.

  I’d ruined everything. Lee would run as far away as he could from a too-needy man who wanted to hang onto him with both hands. There was no way he was ready for any kind of serious relationship yet, not if he’d broken up with Craig five months ago and not so much as gone on a date since.