by Mia Downing
Next, they moved into the stalls that sold more handmade goods. All of it excellent quality, and Jordan began to feel like an ass for being a snob. His mother would love the woven mats, and Samantha’s kitchen matched the color of the wooden bowls on the next table over. He was sure his sister would love either, or both.
The women in his life loved gifts made by the native people of a land he visited. Unfortunately, Jordan rarely encountered native people in any land, unless they waited on him in a hotel, restaurant, or conference area. His staff did this stuff. But the idea of buying gifts, all by himself, was intriguing. Exciting.
He was about to start haggling when a woman selling pies waved Ryan over. “I have your pie for you.”
“Excellent.” Ryan touched Jordan’s bicep. “Sera, this is Jordan. Blake’s—”
“Blake’s brother,” Sera exclaimed. She rounded the table holding assorted pies and baked goods and hugged Jordan tight, her wiry arms wrapped tight around his waist. She was tiny, coming up to his chest, her dark hair shot with gray and neatly braided. “We’re so sorry for your loss. Blake was a wonderful man. When we were told he’d died, we were upset, losing a great friend as well as a protector of the island. So many developers approached him about selling so they could build up the hotel and make it more of a resort. We’re so glad he never did.”
Well, shit.
“Blake was a good man,” Jordan observed, knowing he’d earn the title as village asshole when he went home and sold everything.
“Pick something out, for your breakfast. On me,” Sera urged, waving to the table laden with pastries and cakes, beaming.
“We’ll pay, but thanks, Sera,” Ryan said. He chose a pastry, took a bite, and gestured for Jordan to do the same. “Delicious as usual.”
They paid, bought more for the next day, thanked her, and moved on. Jordan glared at Ryan over the delicious pastry, definitely pissed. “You took me there on purpose, as a huge guilt-trip.”
“Powerful business mogul Jordan Hill can be guilt-tripped? I’m impressed.” Ryan grinned, and they paused to look at handmade jewelry.
“I’m only human.” But Samantha often told him he wasn’t, and it bothered him. The Jordan who inhaled pollution daily wasn’t vulnerable to guilt-trips. Not in the least.
They strolled to the next one where a man sorted woven mats his wife had made, all excellent quality, definitely gift material. Again, the introductions. Again, the gentleman knew who he was, sang Blake’s praises, and made him feel like a dick. It seemed to be the theme, stall after stall.
“You’re failing your challenge,” Ryan whispered, his hand at Jordan’s back, singeing his skin. If his hand stayed there, it would burn through and melt his spine.
“I like some of the native crafts, but I want to resell it all,” Jordan said, just to be a dick. He didn’t want to sell any of it. He wanted to buy it all and give it away, to his family. Jordan was clueless, but he couldn’t come home from Fiji empty-handed.
“That says something about you, Hill.”
“I’m a born salesman?”
Ryan laughed. “No. Well, yes, but no. This means I need to dig deeper.”
“Sell me the waterfall painting. Or better yet, paint me something I’d want to keep.” Jordan leaned close and breathed in Ryan’s ear, “You. Naked. I wouldn’t sell that.”
Ryan froze and his blue eyes grew lusty. For just a moment, he felt alone with Ryan in the marketplace despite it buzzing with people. But the moment passed quickly, and Ryan joked, “You wouldn’t make any money off a painting like that, anyway.”
“I’d make a killing.”
A strange look came into Ryan’s eyes, one that Jordan didn’t quite get and maybe feared. A look that he felt deep in his gut.
“I’ll be right back. Wait here.” Ryan left his side to go back to Sera. He asked a few questions, Sera pointed, and Ryan nodded. He returned with a triumphant grin. “I know what you might like.”
“Someone else has painted nudes of you?” He frowned, doubtful, and even a little jealous.
“Yeah. They’re hidden all over the island. Let’s go hunt for one.” Ryan led him away from the marketplace, down a side street, and paused. He checked both ways, but the streets were quiet with most people busy shopping. Ryan kissed Jordan, the touch of his lips fleeting. “Come on, we can’t linger.”
But Jordan wanted to linger, wanted more kisses, and maybe to be felt up a little. Yeah, Ryan’s hand on his cock, stroking, cupping his balls—
“Let’s go.” Ryan tugged him out of his daydream. “The man we’re going to see is heading over to the big island for the day. I don’t want you to miss out on meeting him.”
The sound of that held promise so Jordan followed Ryan to a strip of apartments. He knocked on the blue door, but no one answered. “We missed him.”
“Why is he important?”
“Jone shoes the horses for me, but he’s also a master carver. He carves warrior clubs and other really cool things. I thought you might like to see them.”
“I would have liked that.” It wasn’t a line, either.
“Well, it doesn’t matter. He’s gone.” Ryan shoved his hands in his pockets. “Shall we go back? We need to pick up our grocery items, anyway.”
They slowly walked back through the alley, toward the market place, avoiding the puddles.
Jordan hesitated, and asked, “Can I buy items even if I don’t want to keep them? Or does that break some hidden challenge rule that will piss you off.”
Ryan shook his head. Jesus, did Jordan always attempt to find a way around everything? Just do the fucking challenge. Ryan sighed, distracted and disturbed that he’d missed out on what could have been a nice bridging experience for Jordan, introducing him to Fijian culture and heritage. “Why would you buy something you don’t want to keep?”
“Gifts, idiot. I can’t go home empty-handed,” Jordan said with a grin.
Ryan halted in his tracks and blinked, because he would have bet his volcano Jordan had been ready to shirk his challenge. And purchasing gifts was the last thing Ryan expected Jordan’s face to light up about. But sure enough, Jordan was itching to get back to the marketplace, his weight shifting from the balls of his feet to his heels in expectation.
Ryan shrugged, amused, liking Jordan even more by the minute. “Sure. Purchase away.”
Jordan frowned and glanced over at him. “You need to offer an opinion so I don’t fuck this up royally.”
Ryan grinned, even more amused. “You need to ask.”
“Fuck.”
Ryan would pay twenty bucks to see Jordan roll his eyes like that again. He huffed and shrugged his shoulders to his ears, then released them in defeat. “Help me choose stuff? Please? I suck at picking out gifts.”
“Very good, effective asking.” But Ryan could tell, as much as Jordan felt he failed at picking out gift items, he enjoyed doing it, enough to ask for help. He didn’t see Jordan as the type to ask for assistance.
No, he saw Jordan sweeping in, pointing a finger to the desired items and then expecting them to be wrapped and delivered on time and intact. Or he’d have his PA do it. “Sure, I’ll help.”
Jordan narrowed his gaze, taking Ryan in with a skeptical eye. “You good at picking gifts, McCale? Because I have picky women back home, expecting Fijian treasures beyond their wildest expectations. This is a huge challenge, bigger than me asking or finding selfish things to purchase. You up to it?”
“I rock at a lot of things, but I excel at choosing gifts.” Or so his family said.
“Will I discover what more you rock at when seven rolls around?”
The word seven had his cock in fit of hardness, aching, wanting. He’d never wanted a man more, and the naughty images dancing in his mind had to be reflected in his smile. “Yeah.”
Jordan grinned back. “Good.”
****
Okay, so after spending a morning and early afternoon with a more relaxed version of Jordan, Ryan reconsidere
d shoving coal up his ass to get diamonds. They finished up at the market, Jordan’s arms loaded down with things he’d purchased for his family, Jordan chattering—yes, chattering—a mile a minute about who would like what. Though he’d found nothing for himself he’d hit the mother lode on gifts.
Blake had said Jordan was generous to a fault, and Ryan would have said Blake was full of shit until this very moment. Well, no, not in bed. Jordan was definitely generous in bed. But seeing the look of satisfaction on Jordan’s face as he reviewed his purchases made Ryan want to put the coal away and get out the lube.
“Now what?” Jordan asked, his face flushed with the excitement of haggling. He’d been good at that, no surprise, though he hadn’t gone nearly low enough on the price. He’d been taken for a ride on some of the items, but Jordan didn’t seem to care.
“What else did you want to experience? Snorkeling? Sailing? We’ll ride later, but you know that. I want you to relax and enjoy yourself. You can check out the hotel books any day. We can lie by a pool or in a hammock with a book. You can be as busy or as lazy as you want.”
“Can we snorkel at your cove?” The grin on Jordan’s face implied naked. The thought of Jordan’s bare flesh slicing through the crystal clear waters made Ryan ache in all the right places.
“Yes.”
“Then home it is.”
Home. The fact that Jordan said that sent another wave of achiness, one a single guy on a boys-gone-wild weekend shouldn’t experience. His chest clenched and he waved it off as acid reflux. Had to be from the coffee. Way too strong this morning. “You need anything from the hotel? We’re close. Why not grab jeans and boots? You can probably wear my clothes, but I think your feet are bigger.”
“Will we be able to come back tomorrow before our ride to the waterfall?”
“Sure. Why?”
“I have to get…you know.” Jordan shifted uncomfortably, and just the way he shifted told Ryan he was embarrassed by being uncomfortable. “Blake.”
“Oh.” Ryan nodded, morbidly curious. “How big is…the box?”
“The remains will fit in a saddle bag. It’s amazing how fire reduces one-hundred-sixty pounds of man into an eight-by-eight inch box.” For as matter-of-fact as Jordan said it, the pain still lingered in his eyes. But maybe that’s what Jordan did in his world. Soothe the ache by being frank, by breaking apart a company and selling it off, bit by bit.
“We’ll come back, then.” Ryan tugged Jordan to him and kissed him again in a quick claim of his lips. “Until then, you need to focus on your challenges. Buy something from you and learn to ask.”
Jordan narrowed his eyes in that pissed way of his. Good. Pissed was much better than sad. “You didn’t say you were adding the asking as a challenge.”
“I’m going to make you beg at seven,” Ryan promised, unable to keep the cocky tone from his voice. He looked forward to Jordan at his mercy, begging to come however Ryan allowed, be it his hand, his mouth, his ass. All his. “You’ll be way past asking, so I suggest you work on that before.”
Jordan swallowed, in a good way this time, his eyes dark with lust. He squeezed Ryan’s hand. “I can’t promise I’ll beg easily.”
No, Jordan wouldn’t give in easily, but Ryan sensed that’s what he liked from sex. To be cut loose, to not have to be in charge for a change. “Then that will be my challenge.”
Chapter Seven
Jordan lay naked in the hammock secured between two coconut trees, waiting for Ryan to get back with his drink. It was five-thirty, and the sun was going down in a blistering explosion of reds and gold, dipping into the crystal clear water. It was the perfect ending to a surprisingly perfect day, one that left him feeling relaxed and tired in a good way, yet achy for seven to arrive.
They’d spent the day together, and in lot of ways, the easy friendship he was forming with Ryan was a lot like the one he had shared with Blake. Snorkeling in the cove had been everything the travel ads said it would be, but better. Before they’d gone out, Ryan had coated every inch of him with sunscreen, which had been just as sexy and left him hard and lusty.
Ryan in a swimsuit was erotic in his own way, since Jordan knew what lay beneath but his imagination had to fill in the blanks. They had gone too far away from the cove to go naked, and Ryan didn’t want Jordan’s lily-white ass burned—Ryan’s words. It was worth wearing a swimsuit. All of the beautiful fish, the coral reef, the crystal clear waters, Ryan’s patient voice teaching him how not to drown himself. He’d taken lots and lots of great photos with Ryan’s underwater camera.
After, they’d gone riding down the beach, Ryan again patient as he instructed Jordan on the finer points of riding. Somehow Jordan had managed to get Brownie to do more than eat jungle plants and plod along, and the gallop down the beach had been exhilarating, especially watching Ryan handle Trigger’s antics with skill and ease.
They’d stopped to rest the horses under the shade of a few coconut trees, and Ryan had kissed him, the touch of his tongue brief but electrifying. Then Trigger had spooked at a passing jet ski and that was the end of that. But Jordan’s mouth had tingled all the way back and had left him wanting more.
When Ryan told him he’d done well for his second time on a horse, he ate up the praise like a starved man. Him, needing praise. It was odd and refreshing, unbalancing in a weird way that felt right.
“Here you go.” Ryan returned, barefoot and bare-chested, still in his swimsuit.
“No umbrella?” Jordan accepted the frosty glass filled with a bright yellow liquid.
“You want five star, go back to the hotel.” But Ryan grinned and sat on the end of the hammock, his feet firmly planted in the sand to keep the thing from flipping or swinging. “It’s rum punch, more of a Jamaican thing, but I like rum.”
Jordan sipped and liked, despite never being much of a rum sort of guy. But he liked the fresh fruit juice blended with the alcohol and found it refreshing after their afternoon of fun. “Wow.”
“Yep,” Ryan agreed. “Two of those and you’ll feel nothing.”
“Then don’t bring another. I plan on feeling everything.”
Ryan shot him a slow smile, one that lit his eyes with turbulent fire, like the sun dipping into a sea of blue. “I want to feed you first. I have fish in the oven.”
The breeze kicked up, heavenly across his skin in the growing darkness. Jordan sipped more, the rum seeping into his limbs, relaxing him that much further. His tongue loosened, and Jordan found it easy to meet one part of Ryan’s challenge. “You said I’m to ask if I need something.”
“Sure.” Ryan gave him an encouraging smile.
Here it goes. “What do you get out of me being here? Besides the sex?”
“Oh.” Ryan blinked and stared out at the ocean, his profile visible in the light of the moon overhead, shining brighter now that his rival, the sun, had gone to bed. “I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting sex, that’s for sure.”
“But Blake wanted you to meet me, too.” That was part of the specifications. He had to meet Ryan outside of a business meeting. No doubt Blake knew Ryan would be the key to finding the waterfall, but he suspected something else.
“I think he thought we’d be friends. I’m not sure if he suspected you might want more, because he never said. But this afternoon was a lot like the time I would spend with Blake.” Ryan sighed and took a sip of his own drink, ice cubes rattling in the darkness. “I didn’t realize how much I missed him.”
“Yeah,” Jordan said softly. He rubbed Ryan’s back with his foot, loving the feel of those muscles. “I know you loved him, too.”
Ryan nodded, his back muscles tensing, and Jordan sensed it had nothing to do with the contact. “He was a special man.”
“So are you.” Jordan couldn’t believe the words slipped out, but there they were, hanging on the current of electricity between them. His naked dick hardened, and he fought to keep from hiding it, like he usually would.
Ryan swallowed audibly and turned to Jor
dan, the growing darkness obscuring his expression. He eased Jordan’s drink from his hand and set it with his own on the little table at the base of the coconut tree.
“I want you.” Ryan leaned in and kissed him, his lips anything but gentle. His mouth was possessive and hot, demanding Jordan to surrender, to submit. Jordan did just that, opening his mouth so Ryan could plunder at will. They kissed for a moment more and then Ryan’s lips shifted along Jordan’s jaw to nip at his neck.
Jordan moaned and slipped his fingers into Ryan’s hair, sinking to the scalp, wanting to pull him closer but afraid they’d flip the damned hammock. Or break it. “Is this rated for us?”
“Yes.” Ryan lifted his head from Jordan’s neck. “Lay diagonally across the hammock, it’s more stable.”
Jordan shifted, so fucking turned on he thought he’d come just from the images of Ryan taking him here in the hammock. Ryan bent and without any preamble sucked Jordan’s throbbing cock into his mouth. Pleasure jolted through Jordan, rocking him from the tips of his toes to his scalp, every nerve on fire.
“It’s not seven,” Jordan noted as he arched his back, jamming his feet into the rope mesh, wanting to fuck Ryan’s mouth in the worst way. He held back, though. It seemed…rude.
Ryan lifted his head and kissed Jordan’s stomach, his hand stroking Jordan’s shaft in firm yet lazy swipes. “It’s seven somewhere. I’m ready to make you beg. We have time before dinner’s ready.”
Jordan stared, surprised, then pissed. Damn that man. “I could have had you much earlier with that reasoning.”
“Stupid you for not coming up with it.” But Ryan grinned against Jordan’s hip, and then he kissed the skin there, lapping a path to the base of Jordan’s dick.
“Stupid me?” Jordan grabbed Ryan by the hair and tugged, lifting his lips from their exploration. God, his cock was on fire, but he wanted to please Ryan more than he wanted to come. “Get on the hammock, McCale.”
Ryan caressed Jordan’s jaw, sending shocks of pleasure through his body, his cock twitching inside Ryan’s hand. “Bossy, aren’t you? You should be too relaxed to be this bossy. You should be asking nicely.”