He held up his hand.
Tentatively, she lifted hers. Warm palms, and one by one, pressed fingers.
With that ghostly touch, she left. And it was just Jason and Owen, and Alex legging it over the wall, leaving them alone.
Breezes whipped and whistled.
Jason thrummed erratically, every goddamn inch of him. A lightbulb that didn’t know if it would turn on, or go out for good.
“Hayden?” he called out, a question.
“There is no Hayden,” Owen called back.
Jason bolted—
Right into Owen’s spreading arms. Owen caught him around the hip, the thigh, stumbling back in the sand. Laughter curled around them as he transported them to the bench. He kept Jason astride his lap, warm thighs under his arse, hands rubbing up and down his arms to ward off any chill. If such a thing could possibly exist right now!
That blond head shook, lips twitching. “You sure don’t do anything by halves.”
“Is that a crime, Sergeant Owen Stirling, Sir?”
A devilish glint in dark eyes. “The jury’s still out on that one.”
“I’m sure you could get me off . . . scot-free.”
Owen turned his head toward the navy sky and laughed. Jason curled against his chest, forehead against his neck, and whispered, “There’s really no you and Hayden?”
A long stroke from Jason’s nape to the small of his back. “I made sure to clarify that earlier.”
“That’s why you were late this evening.”
“I’m sorry. I needed to be clear with him. He was too drunk last night, or I would have done it then.”
“Oh God. Last night!” Jason thought about it. “This morning!” What a fool he was. “I thought you wanted to take me to the beach to break up with me.”
“My favourite spot? Why would I taint it with bad memories?”
“You know, that makes a lot of sense.” Jason laughed at himself. “I wasn’t thinking straight.” Another chuckle. “Guess I haven’t been this whole time.”
“Hmm.”
Jason pulled back and looked at Owen. Not an ounce of sadness lingered. Had he . . . had he worried this might not happen? Had he thought Jason might head back to Wellington anyway?
Of course. And Jason had stupidly—oh-so-stupidly—asked him to visit. The punch that must have delivered when Owen thought they . . . had something. Because they did have something. Didn’t they?
Jason cupped Owen’s jaw. “Are we really together then?”
“We have been from the start, Jason.”
“Fake boyfriends.”
Owen clasped his neck and pulled him into a fierce kiss. “There was nothing fake about it.”
Chapter Nineteen
A powerful quiet settled between them as Jason opened the door. His hand shook as he twisted the key. Clammy fingers made the metal slippery and he dropped it onto the welcome mat.
“Fantastic symbolism.”
He rushed to pick it up, burning, and Owen crouched too, scooping it up first. Eyes met his, soft and sincere. Owen peeled open Jason’s fist and gently settled the warmed key on his palm. “How’s this for symbolism?” He closed Jason’s fingers over it. “Yours.”
Jason tightened his hold until metal dug into flesh. He swallowed, whispered, “Why am I so nervous right now?”
“It’s our first time.”
“Uh, we’ve come home plenty of times.”
Owen stood and pulled Jason up and down the hall to the bedroom. He brushed a smiling kiss over his lips. Warm, soft, fleeting. “Not like this. Not knowing it’s the start of a future together.”
A steadying grasp on his shoulder as they removed their socks. Suit jackets. Button-up shirts. Pants and belts. Sweeping hands over shoulders, hips. The press of kisses in between.
Owen moved to his drawer. He pulled out lube and the, ah—
He pinched out the cuffs Jason had snuck in there, brow arching. “Fluffy.”
“These hands are my life.”
Owen murmured, “Mine too.”
Jason took the cuffs from him, fingering the soft, malleable form. He wanted to use these, to play around. But . . .
He dropped them back into the drawer.
Owen’s eyes glittered, waiting.
Jason swallowed. “Tonight’s not about curiosity.”
Owen dipped his head and locked their lips together for a long, slow kiss.
They slid onto the neatly made bed, sheets cool under exposed skin, and turned on their sides. He reached out and pressed a palm against Owen’s firm chest, soft hairs under his palms sparking heat and shivers, a line of goosebumps pebbling up his arm.
Owen’s voice rumbled over their shared pillow. “You want to know what really gave you away, Jason? Other than musical recognition.”
“You’re finally going to tell me the second thing?”
“The biggest thing.”
Those beautiful eyes, the humour there, the intense understanding. That mouth curling up at the edges.
A ticklish finger stroked down one side of his face. “That’s what gave you away.”
Jason snapped his eyes up. “Hm?”
“Carl never looked at me like that. It’s frighteningly wonderful.”
Jason looped an arm behind Owen and closed the foot separating them. “Frighteningly?”
Owen rolled onto him, a blissful, protective weight. “You have no idea how hard it was, watching you figure out you liked me.”