by M. L. Rhodes
"Look, you've spent the entire day on edge. Have I done something to piss you off? If so, tell me what it is and let's sort it out."
Rafferty continued to keep his back to Nick, pretending to search for something in the cabinet--Nick knew he was pretending because he'd pushed around the same couple of cans of baked beans several times now.
"No, of course not," he said, his voice sounding low and sincere, almost apologetic.
"Then what is it? I'm not blind. Something's been eating at you for a while now."
Rafferty shrugged and the motion pulled his shirt tight across his back, accentuating his broad shoulders, and sending a spike of need through Nick. With only two feet separating them, he was hard-pressed to ignore the heat Rafferty's body generated.
The sudden, uncontrollable urge to wrap his arms around Raff, pull him against him, and grind his growing erection against his friend slammed into him, almost blindsiding him. What would it feel like to be pressed against him, to tear off the man's clothes--hell, tear off his own as well--and feel hot skin on hot skin? To kiss the back of his strong, tanned neck, run his fingers through Raff's thick, dark waves of hair, and spread his ass with his own hard prick?
Holy shit.
Nick dragged in a couple of deep breaths to get control of his ballooning lust. Being around Rafferty had gotten him hard before, but never, ever with this intensity. Never to the point where he had to question, like he was doing right now, whether or not he'd have the willpower to fight it off. Right now it was all he could do not to make a pass at the man. What the hell was going on?
And then, with an almost lightheaded surge of understanding, it hit him...
The odd way Rafferty had looked at him several times today. The incredible heat and tension right now in this small enclosed space.
No. No it can't be that. He was married to a woman for five years. There's never been any indication at all. You're imagining things.
But Nick's body was telling him otherwise. It seemed to be functioning like a finely tuned receiver, picking up intimate signals from his friend that set his nerve endings abuzz.
He swallowed hard, suddenly afraid of making a wrong assumption, but unable to stop himself from taking a step closer. He set a hand on Rafferty's shoulder, testing his theory, wondering if he'd lost his mind.
Rafferty almost jumped out of his skin at the contact, and Nick heard him suck in and release a slow, shaky breath. But he didn't shrug off Nick's hand and, in fact, for a split second, it felt as if he leaned closer to Nick.
Oh, God. I'm not imagining it. He feels it, too.
But he's scared.
Shit. Okay...I'm scared.
This was a development he'd never expected. For four years he'd kept his silence at work and around Rafferty about his own sexual preferences, wanting to earn respect for being a good cop without the labels and stigmas he knew from experience came from being outed to his co-workers. In spite of his secret fantasies about Rafferty, his friendship with the man had been above reproach, and Nick had prided himself on his ability to keep it that way over the years. But now, suddenly, the one relationship he'd thought he was completely certain about, and the one person he'd thought he'd known better than anyone, were being turned on end and he wasn't sure what the hell to do about it.
"Talk to me, Raff," he said, trying to keep his voice low and hoping Rafferty wouldn't notice how hoarse it sounded.
Another ragged breath escaped Rafferty. "I...I'm going to sleep out on the deck tonight...I don't think it's supposed to be too cold," he said in almost a whisper. He pulled his jacket and a rolled-up, nylon sleeping bag out of the closet with what looked to Nick like shaking hands, slipped past him and up the steps to exit through the small wooden door.
A draft of cool night air had wafted in while the door had been open, and it slithered across Nick's overheated skin like a ghost, causing him to shiver. Or maybe it was shock that caused it. But it didn't stop his pulse from pounding double-time, or ease the tight ache in his chest.
Was it possible? God, how could it be? He'd known Rafferty for years. Had never seen a sign, a hint, nothing.
But he didn't think he'd misread what had just happened here. Didn't think it was possible to misconstrue sexual tension that packed such a powerful wallop.
Yet...dozens of reasons why it had to be impossible flooded his brain, causing him to question his reaction. Maybe it had been his own sexual need creating the thick, swirling, hungry energy he'd felt. Maybe it had been all him.
No. No way. If it had been all him, why would it have overwhelmed him with such intensity now? He'd been attracted to Raff for a long time, but had always managed to keep it in check, mostly because in the past he'd known it was a lost cause. Tonight it had been different.
But how could he be sure? And how could he test it without risking their friendship? More importantly, did he even want to test it?
The thought that Rafferty might actually be interested in him in a more-than-friends way was like discovering the biggest, best Christmas present you'd ever wanted had just been put under the tree for you, waiting for you to tear into the wrapping and discover your heart's desire. But at the same time, if this was really happening, things could get complicated very fast. Nick had spent four years building a name and solid reputation for himself on the Cavanaugh Bay police force, and if something intimate started between Rafferty and him, at some point it was going to be inevitable others would find out. And then what? A tight knot formed in his stomach. Then you'll be right back where you were in Boston.
But he was getting ahead of himself. That was assuming there was something going on with Rafferty. Right now he wasn't positive about anything. And if, in trying to find out, he came on to Raff, but Rafferty's interest had been a figment of his imagination, then most likely Rafferty would slam the door shut on their friendship faster than Nick could blink.
God, I don't want that. I don't want to lose him.
No. He couldn't chance it. Wasn't willing to take the risk. He couldn't make the first move. If there was something going on here, Rafferty would have to be the one to make a move. It was the only way to be sure.
Taking a breath to steady himself and trying to ignore the way his pulse raced at the thought of being near Raff again, Nick pulled another sleeping bag out of the closet and exited the cabin.
The couple of other times they'd overnighted on the boat, they'd both slept on deck. There'd never been any discussion about them sharing the berth in the cabin, or about one of them sleeping inside while the other slept out. They'd both just always rolled out sleeping bags under the stars.
Raff was checking the radar when Nick emerged.
"Weather still okay?" Nick asked, wanting to say something to break the silence as he spread out his bag. What he really wanted was to ask Rafferty point-blank what the hell had just happened in there and was he as hot as Nick was right now? But he knew better. He has to make the move. You can't do it.
"The front's definitely moving in, but it's still not expected to come through until late tomorrow sometime. We should probably head back to land first thing in the morning, though, to be on the safe side."
"Sure. Whatever you say. You're the captain."
But Nick had to wonder how much Raff's decision to call an early end to the trip was related to the weather and how much was related to getting off the boat and away from Nick.
Maybe I did imagine it.
No. No, if he had, then what was Rafferty running from?
Chapter 3
* * *
Rafferty lay in his sleeping bag, trying to let the gentle rocking of the boat beneath him lull him into oblivion. Sleeping on a boat was one of his favorite things--had been since he was a kid. But for the past two hours, he hadn't even dozed. Oh, he'd closed his eyes and tried, but it hadn't done any good. His entire existence focused on the warm, hard body just a foot away from him.
Nick.
His friend's soft, even breathing for the past
hour had assured Rafferty Nick was asleep. The man lay close enough, if Rafferty were lying on his back, he could reach out and touch him. But he wasn't and didn't. Instead, when he'd first crawled into his sleeping bag, he'd rolled onto his side away from Nick, hoping for some truth to the old adage "out of sight, out of mind."
It hadn't worked.
Instead, his mind had kept up a constant hum of activity fully centered around Nick.
Rafferty had replayed the scene in the cabin a dozen times, trying to read every nuance of their conversation, the way Nick had stepped close and touched him, his reaction. It had taken every ounce of self-control he possessed not to turn and give into the overwhelming urge to kiss the younger man. Good God. He'd never kissed a man in his life. Had never even thought about it...until this obsession with Nick had begun.
What the hell would Nick have thought of him if he'd done it? Would he have shoved him back and demanded they leave right away? Would he have suffered through it, then broken it to Rafferty gently that he wasn't interested in that kind of relationship and treated Rafferty with polite disdain from here on out?
Or would he have kissed you back? Would he have pulled you against him, tasted you, touched you, and let you know in no uncertain terms he was very much interested?
The heat and raw sexual need permeating the cabin as they'd stood so close had nearly created a spontaneous combustion. For a few seconds, Rafferty had allowed himself to think maybe the attraction might be mutual...the way Nick had touched his shoulder, had stood so close. But then he'd come to his senses and realized the cabin was so small that when both of them were in it, they were going to be close no matter what. And Nick's hand on his shoulder wasn't any different than when Nick had touched him in a very similar way earlier in the day.
Yeah, but when he did it this afternoon, you had the same reaction, remember? You wondered then...
No. No, he'd become so obsessed with Nick, now he was trying to read things into his friend's every look and touch and action. Things that just weren't there, that were nothing more than wishful thinking on Rafferty's part.
Wishful thinking?
For weeks he'd been telling himself this was nothing more than passing craziness and he didn't really want Nick in a sexual, it was just one of those unexplainable urges that popped up from time to time in life for things you teased yourself with because you knew it wasn't ever going to happen. He'd figured sooner or later he'd snap out of it. So when had it become wishful, as in something he did want? God...did he want it?
Rafferty scrubbed a hand over his cold cheeks.
"No," he muttered to himself under his breath. "It's crazy. I'm not attracted to men. I've never been attracted to men, so what in the name of God has gotten into me?"
I'm going to sleep now, he ordered himself. And in the morning, things are going to get back to normal. I'm going to wake up and see Nick as my friend and partner and nothing else, the way it's supposed to be.
But even as he closed his eyes yet again and finally managed to relax, he was acutely aware of the masculine body lying so near, and felt again the touch of Nick's hand on his shoulder, smelled his clean, spicy scent, and heard the warm, husky timbre of his voice against his ear...
* * * *
"Talk to me, Raff." Strong arms slid around his waist from behind. "Tell me what you want."
Unable to resist the urge, Rafferty leaned back against the solid wall of chest. Nick was only an inch or so shorter than he was, and somehow it felt right to lean on him. "I want..."
He stared out at the blue surf and realized they were standing on a beach. A pristine, sandy beach like the one they'd seen earlier in the day. Except now they were on it and the Out Of My Mind bobbed at its anchor a hundred or so yards out in the water. The sun beat down on them, seeping into the bare skin of Rafferty's chest. When had he taken off his shirt?
"You want what? Tell me."
The words were punctuated by kisses on his neck. Callused hands slid up his abs to his chest, brushing over his nipples, sending small shocks of pleasure through him.
"Now's not the time to exhibit that trademark stoicism," Nick breathed. "You have to tell me what you want, Rafferty. Just say it."
"I want..." The words caught in his throat, where they'd been for the past two months. But he was tired of holding them in, of hiding. He didn't believe Nick would be touching him like this if he couldn't handle what Rafferty needed to say. "I want you." The admission slid out, finding freedom at last, making Rafferty dizzy with relief to say it aloud.
Nick grasped his chin, turned his head, and with a sultry glint in his eyes, lowered his mouth over Rafferty's in a kiss that shot fire straight through Rafferty's veins and into his cock. As Nick's mouth explored Rafferty's, his hands did their part as well, one plucking at a nipple, the other dipping low, down into the waistband of Raff's lightweight cargo pants.
Rafferty's breath caught in both shock and pleasure as the gentle brush of Nick's fingertips slid over the hard ridge of his erection.
And then Nick's groin was grinding against his ass. Rafferty felt the stiff bulge that said Nick wanted him just as much as he wanted Nick.
With a hot, confident hand, Nick fisted Rafferty's cock, spread the already seeping milk of his desire over the head with his thumb, then stroked him in a slow, sweet motion that almost made Rafferty's knees buckle. "Oh, God..."
"Good?"
"Pants off...need...off," Rafferty gasped, barely able to form words.
Nick's hand slid up and away from his groin, but before Rafferty had a chance to miss the contact too much, Nick had his pants unfastened and pushed down around his thighs, exposing Raff's dick to the sun and warm breeze. But he didn't stop there. Rafferty felt him work at his own pants as well and then the last barrier between them was gone and Nick's cock, hot and hard, pressed against Rafferty's butt. Nick's hands returned their attention to Rafferty's aching, heavy shaft, one wrapping around it, the other sliding lower, to knead his testicles.
"I've wanted this...wanted you for so long," Rafferty whispered.
Nick ground against him from behind and pulled at his cock in the front, sandwiching Rafferty in a building wave of sensation. All he could do was reach behind him and grasp Nick's lean hips, hold on for his life.
And then they were somehow in the water, cold but quickly heating around them as they floated, Nick still holding him tightly from behind, still playing with his throbbing dick, and Rafferty thrusting forward into that perfect hand, and back against that hot rod of steel he suddenly, badly wanted inside him.
"Do it," he gasped.
"Rafferty..." Nick's voice was as hoarse as his own.
"Please, Nick...do it. I want it. Want you."
"Raff... Raff!"
He said it with such urgency it startled Rafferty. Water splashed into his face, colder than it had been moments before...
* * * *
And with a harsh shock of reality, Rafferty realized he was lying on a hard, wet surface that lunged beneath him like a bucking horse. The icy water on his face pelted harder now, bringing him back to the here and now.
He opened his eyes to find Nick leaning over him in the dark, holding a flashlight, his hair wet and clinging to his head, water dripping off his cheeks. The expression on his face was one part concerned and two parts stunned.
It was the stunned look that shook Rafferty back to full alertness. Oh, no...did I say something aloud in my sleep?
"What's going on?" He struggled to a sitting position, trying to untangle his legs from his wet sleeping bag and wipe the water out of his eyes at the same time...all while ignoring the dull, unfulfilled ache in his still-hard shaft.
"A storm's coming in," Nick said. "It started raining a couple of minutes ago and woke me. The ocean started heaving about the same time."
"Sonofabitch. There was nothing on radar or the radio when we went to bed." Rafferty finally extricated himself from his soggy bag and clambered to his feet on the shifting deck. "What
time is it?"
He saw Nick check his watch. "A little after one a.m."
The last vestiges of the dream slipped away, along with his concerns about what Nick might have heard him say. The storm and their safety were his priorities now. An icy calm slid over him as lessons learned from his father during boyhood kicked in.
"Here, put this on and make sure it's securely fastened," he directed, handing Nick a personal flotation device, then donning one himself.
He turned up the volume on the VHF radio and within seconds heard a storm warning from the Coast Guard. Radar indicated the disturbance had, indeed, blown in quickly, a precursor to the front expected to move in later in the day.
"We've gotta move before the seas get too high," Rafferty said. "We're too exposed here." He cranked the engines.
"What can I do?"
"Pull up the anchor."
Rafferty didn't voice it, but if the wind picked up even higher and the waves grew much bigger, they could be in real danger where they were and either be smashed against the jagged rocks that lined the island, or overturned by the rough surf.
"Okay, it's in," Nick called.
"Hold on," Rafferty shouted over the din of the storm as the rain came down harder. "This is probably going to get rough."
Nick managed to get back into the passenger seat with some jostling as the boat lunged and fell against the waves.
Rafferty's immediate objective was to move around the island and find a wide-mouthed cove they could get into with little danger and that would offer them some protection. The tricky part was going to be doing that while avoiding breaking waves and trying to keep the bow or stern end-on into the waves.
"Damn, I had no idea storms could come up so fast out here," Nick said, his voice tight with tension.
"Wicked fast."
The rain fell harder now, pelting down in angry torrents. The canopy over the cockpit did little to dissuade it, and within minutes cold, wet trickles slid down Rafferty's neck and into his clothes despite his zipped-up all-weather jacket.