by R. J. Scott
The team gathered on their side of the pool, and Kev indicated for everyone to have a seat. He had a clipboard, and he tapped it to get everyone’s attention.
“Okay, Jen, you’re up against Marie Bellingham.” Lucien heard Jen groan. Marie was good and very seldom lost. “Watch her on the turns. If you can time those, you can pull a second. Mickey, you and Luke both drew middle lanes in the 800 freestyle. Do me a favor and race the other team and not each other.”
Lucien felt heat rise in his face. He and Mickey had swum out so fast the time before last, they’d run out of energy, and USW had taken them to the cleaners.
Lucien nodded and Mickey added a resounding yeah before they exchanged rueful glances.
“On the relay, I need you to watch for the exchange, and that’s all of you, both women and men. Jen, you’re the strongest on the crossover, I want you to take anchor.”
Lucien heard the muttering but didn’t disagree, Jen was a strong swimmer, but she would have already done her main race and the women’s 4x400 was pretty much straight after.
“Luke, Billy has torn a tendon. I need you to take his place in the butterfly.”
Lucien looked around in shock. He hadn’t even spotted that Billy wasn’t there.
“Okay.”
Kev ticked the information on his list.
“That means I need you in the 400 medley, Max.”
“I’m… I… what?” Max spluttered next to Lucien.
“You’re Billy’s backup.”
“I thought I was seventh on the list.”
“On the butterfly,” Kev explained in a patient tone.
Lucien felt like laughing and crowing at the same time but dismissed both immediately. He laid a hand on Max’s thigh and squeezed.
Max glanced at him with shock in his bright blue eyes.
“Okay,” Max finally agreed.
A whistle sounded and Lucien watched the girls form for the first race. Kev went with them. Despite being a dick, he knew what he was talking about. Once all attention was on the race, Lucien leaned into Max.
“Okay?” he teased.
“Fine,” Max said with a sigh.
“Where’s the…?” Lucien left the rest unspoken. Where was the other person from the bodyguard company and what was she seeing?
Max nodded his head to indicate the seating opposite, but Lucien couldn’t see anyone specific in among the general crowd of swim fans and dedicated family. He supposed that was a good thing. A bodyguard didn’t necessarily have to stand out.
“You’re probably better off not doing that,” Max said in his ear.
Lucien frowned. “What?” He leaned closer and placed his hand on Max’s thigh, as the noise in the place increased in line with the race drawing to a close.
“That.” Max indicated Lucien’s hand and the evidence of arousal in Max’s swim trunks. He’d hidden it with a towel, but Lucien could see from this angle. He put two and two together and removed his hand like it was on hot bricks. Max quirked a smile, a soft, sexy, quiet smile, then shifted in his seat to face the competition.
Had Lucien done that? Had his touch on Max’s thigh turned Max on? Or was it a warning that something had happened to turn Max on and Max didn’t want Lucien’s hand near him or to see it? Heat rushed through him. The instant that desire slammed into him, he knew he was screwed. With a muttered curse, he covered his own lap with a towel. He had maybe ten minutes until his first race and this was not going well.
Max was called up first for the medley relay, and Lucien refused to look at his retreating back; only Max was cute and firm and hard and soft and all the confusing shit that could only mean one thing.
Desire.
“Did you see?” Mickey said as he slumped into the chair next to Lucien.
Lucien searched for the right answer. “You rocked,” he offered.
“I came third,” Mickey said. Now Lucien could hear the thread of misery in the other man’s voice.
“But it was a strong third.” Hell he hadn’t even been watching, he’d been thinking of anything he could to get rid of his damn erection. “Sorry, I need to…” He stood abruptly and moved closer to the start in readiness for his next race. He was early and he’d been distracted, and he could almost feel Mickey’s bemused gaze burning into his back.
And now he was here way too close to the start of Max’s race, and he got up close and personal to the man. The first swimmer dived in at the whistle and CU pulled ahead as Kev set a good pace. The changeover was slick, the second in the team clean into the water, and time slowed so Lucien could just watch Max. The tension in his muscles, the readiness in his taut, tight figure, the soft bounce of his knees, the way a tuft of his blond hair poked out from under his swim cap. He was probably so pissed that he was even swimming today, his big bad bodyguard desire to protect undermined by Billy’s pesky torn tendon.
In his head Lucien counted the strokes as the second in this four-man team came closer. When the second man touched the side of the pool, Max entered the water with barely a splash, diving and traveling the longest way under water before coming to the surface and settling into a strong breaststroke. Max wasn’t the fastest, but he was strong and determined, and as a team, they brought home the win.
Lucien only hoped he’d do the same in his own race. And he thanked the heavens he was close by when Max removed his cap then lifted himself out of the pool. The sight of that blond hair and the water and the slim strong body was enough to drive Lucien mad, but there was no way he wanted to miss it.
Max grinned at him, pushing hands through his hair, then standing by Lucien’s side. “That was a rush.”
Lucien had no idea what to say to that. Max turned away as Kev came over to congratulate him and Lucien was faced with Max’s taut back and tight ass. He spotted the faint scar that ran alongside Max’s spine and resolved to ask the bodyguard what that was, although he assumed Max had got it when his plane went down. To think, Max might not have been standing here. The idea of never meeting Max filled Lucien with sadness and he realized he was focusing on grief when he should be enjoying a smiling Max who was very definitely here.
Then Max turned to face him again and gifted Lucien with a soft smile. A knowing smile.
And there it went again. Time for Lucien to grab his towel and hide his burgeoning erection…
“You’re up next,” Kev said next to him. That was enough of a shock to get Lucien out of his sex-and-kissing head space. He’d stared for so long he’d missed the women’s race. He’d probably been standing there with a dumbass expression on his face. So much for self-respect.
He placed second in the 800 freestyle and the team won the 4x400 relay so he was on a high when it came to his turn in the butterfly.
Kev called him over. “Just lay low on this one, okay? Don’t push too much. You’re up against two of their best, and we never expected the win.”
Lucien nodded his understanding, but as he rolled his shoulders he probably had a light in his eyes that spoke of a need to win, which was exactly what he was thinking.
“I mean it,” Kev said. He was using that tone, the one he used to remonstrate with the team when they didn’t listen to him. “Are you listening to me?” He poked Lucien in the chest and Lucien startled and took a step back. Kev was way past serious.
“I promise.”
“Look how easily Billy damaged his tendon at the last meet. He’s going to be out weeks. Watch yourself.”
Lucien pressed a hand to his chest where Kev had poked him and pasted a teasing smile on his face. “I will.”
He took his place at the starting blocks and counted down the time by focusing inward to visualize the race. At this moment when all around him were talking and walking and waiting, he was focusing on the race, on the smooth movements, on the way he would cut through the water, on the muscles that would ache after. The other participants joined him at the starting blocks, and for a tense second, they were suspended in waiting. Then with the whistle, th
ey were away, the dive into the cold water, holding breath, breathing out, surfacing and cursing inwardly as he saw in his peripheral vision that all three others he was against were just that small bit ahead.
Another burst and he was leveling, his muscles burning, his lungs aching, and abruptly determination was there, that sudden brutal shove of focus, edged with the stupid but pressing need to show Max what he was made of. It was enough to pull him ahead of two of the other three swimmers. When he touched tile on the turn, he was second. There was no way he’d catch first, but he was so close to keeping a reasonable second place.
And Max would be watching. He’d be watching and would know that Lucien wasn’t a pathetic excuse for a man who couldn’t even look after himself. He’d see someone that possibly wasn’t so weak.
He finished the race, then sunk under the water. He didn’t care where he’d come in. None of it mattered. He was done and just ever so slightly embarrassed he’d been swimming to prove to Max what he could do.
When he rose again there was cheering and a quick glance up showed him Kev holding up two fingers with a grin on his face.
So I kept second, Lucien thought. Yes!
The party was in a small room above Revolution. The castle opposite was still lit up from Christmas even though it was the middle of January, and Lucien wondered why the lights hadn’t been taken down yet. He didn’t vocalize the question, instead he concentrated on listening to what people were saying around him. Max was somewhat of a hero based on his stepping in for the team, and Lucien was getting plenty of praise for coming in second in the butterfly. Overall, CU had won by a clear margin.
Lucien had a Coke. A whole bottle of Coke. Max had reassured him, said it was okay to let go if he wanted to and get a beer, but Lucien had his own demons and wasn’t ready for that tonight. He kind of liked the idea of a beer buzz, but being out with Max at his side was more than enough for the time being.
They’d eaten chicken and fries, and salad, and more fries, and ordered even more chicken, and slowly the people around him and Max were getting drunk. Max had used the excuse that he was on antibiotics, which earned him even more hero points with the team—as well as the usual teasing about what he would be on antibiotics for. The music was loud, and Lucien was actually having a good time.
“Dance!” Kev demanded and dragged him up to the small dance floor made from the space left after they’d cleared some of the central tables. All of the girls and half the boys had taken to the floor and were doing some kind of complicated dance routine to the song. Lucien had heard the song before but never seen the coordinated dance that everyone else seemed to know. He muddled his way through, and somehow, halfway through, he not only got the hang of the dance, but he found he was enjoying himself. Every so often he would meet Max’s gaze, and he realized Max was staring at him.
Guarding him.
It’s okay to dance. No one will hurt me if Max is here.
The music spiraled, the beat a bass that shook the floor and sent vibrations through his body, and for a while he just stood still and allowed himself to feel. The team danced around him, everyone in their own worlds, and still Max stared.
“It’s hot in here,” Mickey said as he pulled off his shirt. He tucked it in his jeans and laughed as Kev grabbed him and whirled him away. What it must be like to be here in public while taking off his shirt and dancing? Before he even thought about it, Lucien yanked at the red tee and pulled it up and off, his long layers falling this way and that as he shook his head free. He copied Mickey and tucked it into the belt of his worn jeans, then closed his eyes and let the music take him away from life. From exhaustion and wariness and grief. Just everything.
When hands grasped his hips, he didn’t have to open his eyes to know it was Max. He could smell him, the citrus and whatever it was that uniquely defined the man. He was solid and strong and determined as he stepped closer, and finally Lucien opened his eyes. Max was there, bright blue eyes intent, hands gripping Lucien’s hips tight.
“They made me come over,” Max apologized by shouting over the music in his ear. A quick glance at the table saw the entire women’s side of the team giggling and gesturing. Two of them were making kiss faces.
“Let’s make their night,” Lucien decided. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but being close to Max on this crazy chaotic dance floor was the closest to sex he been in a while and hell, he wanted to have sex. With Max, with anyone.
No, just with Max.
Max laughed, and Lucien stole the laugh by pressing an openmouthed kiss to Max’s lips. Messy and uncoordinated when it began, Max grasped control and suddenly they were kissing in the middle of others on a dance floor with the bass of the song matching the rhythm of Lucien’s heart. And the kiss was hot. It was hard and passionate, and Lucien wanted to climb inside Max right there in front of everyone.
“Let’s go,” Max shouted as he broke their kiss. They picked up their bags from under the seats and wound through the crowd saying their goodbyes, gripping tightly to each other’s hand.
The cold air outside hit them, and Max dropped Lucien’s hand. Lucien was disappointed and relieved. He didn’t want to stop holding hands, but to actually be touching Max meant more to him than he had realized. He liked the spiky bodyguard with all his growly protectiveness. Max must have caught his expression because he seemed to feel Lucien was owed an explanation.
“I need to keep a hand free just in case.”
That made sense, and as they walked back to the house, Lucien decided he would try to focus on the tone of apology in Max’s voice and not let doubts creep in. Doubts made him wary and he didn’t want wary tonight. He didn’t know how far he wanted to take it, but he certainly wanted more kisses.
Max did his usual checks when they got in the house, but not before he stole another kiss by the front door. A promise for more.
Lucien took their bags into the kitchen and threw the wet swimming stuff into the wash before putting on the coffee, then sitting at the table. Then standing up and leaning on the countertop. Then sitting down again. Did he look more of a dork standing or sitting? Or should he be lying on the sofa with his legs spread and his dick out, wearing nothing more than a smile?
Mentally he berated himself for his train of thought. In theory, the idea of being naked on the sofa could lead to sex. In practice, though, Lucien had no idea what kind of shit collected on that heap of a sofa in the corner. He never sat on it if he could help it—and that was fully clothed. Damn thing was Jamie’s sofa. Lucien had been the one to help Jamie move it in when they first got this house, and even then it had smelled of God knows what.
“What’s wrong?” Max asked from the door. He passed by to get coffee but not before he placed a hand firmly on Lucien’s shoulder and squeezed.
“I was thinking about Jamie,” he lied. Thinking about sex on Jamie’s sofa was close enough to actually thinking about Jamie himself. “Uhm, he was off this morning.”
“Off in what way?” Max asked the question as he sat down, on a kitchen chair, not the sofa in question. Good call. He was clearly trying for nonchalant, but Max never asked questions that didn’t have a purpose.
Lucien sighed. He had seen something off in Jamie this morning but it wasn’t enough to comment on. Still, Max needed him to say something. “He asked to borrow a fiver and I gave it to him, but he didn’t seem himself. Like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.”
Max sipped his black coffee, wincing at either the fact it was shit coffee or the fact it was probably too hot. “Do you often lend him money?”
Lucien considered the question. It was a loaded question, but he knew to be honest when he answered. He didn’t want to come over as a blind upper-class idiot who didn’t see addiction when presented with it.
“I lend him a fiver, maybe enough for weed if he was desperate, a beer, milk, I don’t know. I mean, I buy all the groceries for this place, although he doesn’t seem to eat much other than the frozen pizzas.
He once asked to borrow fifty, but I cut him dead because I know he’s using something. He knows where I keep my money but he never touches it. That has to tell you something.”
Max tilted his head and looked directly at him. “That’s perceptive and probably the best way to deal with it.”
Lucien preened a little inside. Kind respectful words from Max had somehow become so important to Lucien in the few weeks they’d been together.
“I may be naïve, but I’m not stupid, and holding his hair back after he was sick once earned me the whole story.”
“And what is the story?”
“Pretty sad one. He was the only survivor of a car accident at seventeen, prescribed pain pills, became addicted, and it’s just got worse.”
“I saw him when I first got here handing money over for a bag.”
Lucien nodded. “He does that. When his student money comes in, he does two things: pays the rent and stocks up on his pills. He’s stable. I offered help, but he doesn’t want my help, he wants my friendship. So that is what I try to do.”
“Don’t you ever think that you’re enabling him?”
Sadness flooded Lucien. “Of course I do. But if I push and he goes, then I can’t look after him. He’s hardly here, but I make sure there’s food, I keep the place tidy, and I check in on him if he’s at home.”
Max reached out and held Lucien’s hand across the table. “We need to talk.”
Lucien sighed and turned his hand up to grasp at Max. “About what?”
“The kiss.”
“It was a good kiss.” Lucien couldn’t help being defensive. It had been a very nice, sexy, passionate, long kiss.