Professional Distance (Thorne and Dash 1)

“I’ll see you next Friday,” he said, gathering the last of his things.

“I’ll be waiting.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Dash studied the sailboat Thorne had rented. Maybe this was a mistake. He had zero experience with boats beyond an ill-fated canoe trip he took with his friend Susan, Lilah, and Susan’s now-ex husband. He’d been eighteen, and he’d spent most of the weekend soaking wet. But Thorne obviously knew what he was doing as he scurried around the deck, checking out the various ropes. Were they called rigging? He suddenly imagined Thorne racing up a rope to look out from the crow’s nest, but sexy as the idea was, Thorne wasn’t actually a pirate. This was just a small sailboat, boating for the rich and idle, not risking life and limb on the high seas.

Heat filled his cheeks when he remembered what he’d said about playing pirate and captive. Why the fuck was he blushing? Rent boys didn’t blush.

“Come aboard, we’re all set,” Thorne called.

Dash held out the picnic basket, afraid the rocking of the boat would make him drop it. Once the basket was safe in the boat, Dash gingerly placed one foot on the deck, pausing with his arms out for balance as the boat rocked. Why did everyone look so agile doing this in movies?

Thorne took his hand. “You don’t have to be that careful. You aren’t going to tip her over.”

Dash took the next step and he was on board, the boat swaying gently under his feet. The wind was strong enough to ruffle even Thorne’s short hair. He assumed that meant it was a good day for sailing.

“Don’t lean too far over the side, listen to me if I tell you to shift your weight, and duck if I say so or the boom might try to take your head off.” Thorne patted the long pole supporting the bottom of the larger sail. That must be the boom.

“I think I can remember that.”

“Then you’ll be fine.” Thorne gestured toward one of the benches lining the sides of the boat. “Have a seat.”

The seats didn’t look very comfortable. Was Thorne serious about fucking in this thing? Dash had been with men in a hell of a lot of different places, including full-on ass sex in a MINI Cooper, and he still wasn’t sure sex in a sailboat would be practical.

“I didn’t realize it would be this small.”

Thorne laughed. “It’s a sailboat, not a yacht. And a small sailboat at that. The one I owned was several feet longer. This one’s only a fifteen-foot daysailer.”

“I guess I really don’t know much about boats.”

Thorne smiled at him, obviously pleased to be the one in the know. “Just relax and trust me.”

He did trust Thorne when it came to most things, boats included. He just didn’t trust him enough to admit what he really wanted. Maybe that night if the day on the water went as well as he hoped.

“You can swim, right?” Thorne asked.

“Yes.” Dash hoped he wouldn’t end up in the water, though.

“Good. I haven’t sailed in a while, but we’re on a lake, not the ocean. I doubt we’ll be testing your swimming skills.

“See that little island out there?” He pointed to what looked like nothing more than a rock and a small tree far out into the lake.

Dash nodded.

“We’re going to head for it and then anchor close by. It’s barely big enough to spread our picnic blanket on, but no one will disturb us there.”

Dash liked that idea. A lot. He was ready to get his hands on Thorne. “Aye, aye, captain.”

Thorne raised a brow. “Pirate play starting already?”

“Mutiny plans are underway.” Dash deliberately glanced toward the coils of rope on the deck.

“Sounds intriguing.”

As Thorne worked, Dash tried to convince himself he wasn’t going to be spilled into the water. Or worse, get seasick. He had a good stomach for roller coasters and such, and he could read in a car, so he had high hopes. But it wasn’t the internal pep talk that made his nervousness dissolve. It was watching Thorne move around on the boat, the muscles in his arms flexing as he tightened ropes, the view of his gorgeous ass as he checked the sails and familiarized himself with all the craft’s workings. The shorts he wore had ragged cuffs and his T-shirt was a bit too tight. He hadn’t bothered to shave that morning, and the stubble looked good on him.

“You’re fucking gorgeous like this, you know? All dressed down and scruffy.”

Thorne looked at Dash, and Dash’s chest tightened. The look of open admiration on Thorne’s face did unnerving things to Dash’s insides. “Thanks.”

“How does it feel to be in a boat again?”

Thorne smiled. “Wonderful.”

LATER THAT MORNING, with the boat anchored off the tiny island, Thorne and Dash lay on a blanket, looking up at the cloudless sky.