Heat Stroke (Beach Kingdom 2)

Everything clicked into place. Why Jamie was uncomfortable having any kind of relationship with Marcus, a man who was battling his sexuality. Why he’d told Marcus more than once he couldn’t be the one who introduced him to intimacy with a man. Jamie had done that and gotten burned.

“I’m sorry, Jamie.” He swallowed. “Why would you offer to help me when this happened to you? Before, you said you couldn’t. Why did you change your mind?”

“Because Chris and his friends gave me a concussion. They held me under the water and almost drowned me,” Jamie said succinctly. “You would rather saw off your arms than do that to anyone. Especially me, I think.”

The truth of what happened that day was so offensive that they took a moment to crystalize in Marcus’s brain. When they did, he went through several stages of grief in the matter of ten seconds—denial, pain, anger, depression, acceptance—and then he added his own. Rage.

Marcus turned away from Jamie and let out a roar, sending the ferocious sound down the dark, empty boardwalk, his hands clenched into fists at his side. He turned in a circle, looking for an outlet for the white-hot wrath and before he knew it, he’d kicked out one of the wooden rungs that made up the railing.

“Tell me his last name, Jamie,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Hey.” Jamie shoved him from the side. “My brother went to prison for my fucking mistake. You think I could stand it if you went, too? Enough.”

“Your mistake? You didn’t do anything. You…” Marcus stopped to catch his breath. “Oh God, Jamie, I’m like him all over again, aren’t I?”

“No,” Jamie said firmly, cutting a precise hand through the air. “Weren’t you listening earlier? The two of you couldn’t be more different.”

“Except we’re both closet cases who want you too much to stay away.”

“Fine. Except that.” Jamie closed his eyes for a second. “Marcus, you’re a good man. You would never hurt me or lash out like that. Ever. The only thing you have in common with Chris is you’ll only be with me behind closed doors. And that makes me feel like I did when I was thirteen. Like I’m wrong. I respect myself enough to not let that happen again.”

The wind went out of Marcus’s sails. One minute, he was ruled by anger and the next, he was deflated and numb. “I hate myself for doing that to you.”

“I don’t even hate you for doing that to me,” Jamie said. He pushed off the railing and held out his hand to Marcus. “Friends, okay? We’re in the wrong time and place, but we’ve got being friends and I want to keep that.”

Marcus put his hand in Jamie’s and felt the dance of electricity climb his arm. “If I kissed you right here, out in the open, would it make up for anything? Pushing you away last night or not being ready for the real thing?”

Jamie’s breath came out in a rush and he started to take back his hand, but Marcus held on. Let go. You’ve done enough damage. But Marcus was also painfully aware of the fact that tomorrow when the sun came up, things would start down a strictly platonic path with Jamie and he wanted one more touch. One last time. Wanted to show Jamie he respected and valued him, even if they were standing alone in the dark. At least they weren’t behind a closed door.

“One time only,” Jamie rasped, stepping closer. “Okay?”

Marcus ducked his head slightly and caught Jamie’s mouth on a shared groan, their hips meeting and pressing at the same time as their tongues. He stumbled into Jamie, his hands tracking down the other man’s back to grip his ass in both hands, jerking Jamie up against him. Groin slid along groin and rested. Fuck. Their tongues wrestled, heads slanting one way, then the other, Marcus’s blood rushing straight to his cock. Stiff and aching as he was, though, the organ in his chest was in the most agony. It squeezed and gasped for breath. How could this be the last kiss when it felt like the beginning of everything? He couldn’t get enough, couldn’t get enough—

Jamie pushed at his chest and broke the kiss, falling back a step and panting. Marcus was in the same condition and battling the urge to dive back in for more. More. More. But Jamie must have seen the hunger in his expression, because he shook his head. “Come on. I’ll get us an Uber, drop you off on my way.”

In silence, he did just that.

And as Marcus stood outside his building ten minutes later watching Jamie drive away, he wondered how the hell he’d survive never kissing Jamie Prince again.

At that moment, it felt like he wouldn’t.