17
COME SAIL AWAY
“UM. WHEN YOU said you rented a boat for the day, I thought you meant a speedboat, Ace,” I said as we came to a stop at the edge of the pier.
It was a couple of days after the day we’d spent at my parents’ house—which had been followed by a night that, even as drunk as I’d gotten, I could still remember vividly. It was a damn good thing I could, too, because Ace had been a relentless taskmaster, refusing to stop until his mouth had wrung so many orgasms from my body that I’d lost count. A shiver rolled through me just from thinking about it, but before my cock decided to get any ideas, I tried to focus on the sparkling white yacht before us. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky today, and the sun was so blinding, especially reflected off the monstrosity in front of us, that Ace had to hold up a hand to shield his eyes when he looked over at me.
“What?” he asked. “You said you could drive a boat. You didn’t say size mattered.”
“Oh, that sentence is just asking for it.”
“Maybe I’m asking for it.”
I arched a brow. “By letting me steer this big, long vessel deep into the ocean?”
“Fuck me.” Ace groaned.
“Hey, you started it.”
“I’d like to fucking finish it too.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“Dylan.”
“Hmm?”
“Can you drive this thing or not?”
Just as the words left his mouth, a teenage boy—around thirteen or fourteen, I would guess—headed our way out of the mix of tourists and locals lining the boardwalk and pier. He was tanned and wearing a white Rip Curl cap, white board shorts, and the same Sunset Cove shirt I owned—a proud local.
“Uhh…excuse me…Mr. Locke?” he said, from behind Ace. The boy caught my eyes and gave a timid smile as he waited expectantly for the man I was with to turn and face him.
As Ace pivoted, the boy took a step back as he looked up at him with a mixture of shock and awe stamped all over his face. It was such a wonderful expression of unbiased adoration that it made my heart swell for Ace.
“Hi there,” Ace said as he looked down at the boy.
“Hi…uhh…umm—”
“You can call me Ace,” he said, and the excited smile that crossed the boy’s features made me chuckle. Ace Locke, bringing joy to the entire damn world.
“I don’t mean to interrupt, but I was wondering if you could sign my hat?” the boy said as he reached for it and dragged it off his head. Ace held his hand out for the cap and pen, and when the boy gladly gave them to him, Ace asked, “What’s your name?”
“Luke.”
“I would love to sign your hat, Luke.”
“Thanks. My mom’s just over there,” he said, gesturing behind him with his thumb, and Ace looked over where I did just in time to see a petite brunette woman give us both a smile and quick wave. Ace waved back, as did I, and then returned his attention to the child and what he was doing.
“So, are you out here to surf today?” he asked, casual as ever, clearly used to making small talk with anyone and everyone in his line of business.
“Nah.” The boy laughed. “We’re going out on our boat today. Gonna fish, we are.”
“Oh well, what do you know. We happen to be going out on a boat too.”
Ace signed the cap and then handed it back to the boy as he straightened.
“Is that your boat?” he asked, pointing to the sleek yacht with his mouth dropped open, much like mine had been when Ace had stopped me in front of it.
“Yeah, that’s the one we’re going on. Dylan here’s going to drive it.”
“Oh wow,” Luke said, and then his eyes found mine. “That’s so neat.”
I nodded and beamed back at him. “I’m pretty excited about it myself.”
Ace chuckled and then the boy started to walk away. “Well, thank you Mr.—uhh…Ace. It was real nice meeting you. I’m a huge fan.”
“It was awesome meeting you too, Luke. I hope you and your mom have a good day.”
“I hope you do too,” he said with a friendly wave before turning to run back to where his mother stood. Ace and I watched him go, and when he reached her he showed her the hat and then gave an excited fist pump in the air.
What a gift Ace had to make others so incredibly happy. It seemed unfair that he would ever be judged for wanting a tiny bit of that happiness for himself.
“So,” Ace said, turning back to face me with a grin, “can you drive this thing or not?”
“Didn’t that kid teach you anything? You don’t spend your life in Florida and not know how to drive a boat of any size, hotshot.”
A smirk crossed his lips and he slapped me on the ass. “Then how about you climb aboard before I throw you over my shoulder and make you?”
“Oh yeah? You’d do that in front of all these people?”
Ace crossed his arms, and from the set of his jaw I could tell the look behind his sunglasses was a dare you to call bullshit one. I took in the huge muscles of his chest, his arms, his shoulders, and the way the casual white shirt he wore stretched across them, and then my legs were moving up the boat ladder in a hot second. Not because I was scared he’d follow through on his threat—but because I didn’t trust myself not to rip his shirt off with my teeth.
Yeah, this guy turns me into a fucking savage.
Once my feet hit the deck, I turned to see Ace climbing aboard behind me. “I have to say, I’m liking that I can do this,” I said, sidling closer to him and trailing my fingers along his brawny forearm, “without one hundred cameras going off around us.”
Ace leaned in to brush a kiss across my lips, and when he pulled back and looked at me over the top of his glasses, there was a wicked gleam in his eyes. “And I like that I can do that. Now get up there to the wheel, Dylan, before I’m tempted to see how much I can get away with.”
“Aye, aye, Commander Locke.” I took the keys Ace was now dangling in front of me, and then made my way up to the bridge of the boat. Ace then went to untie the ropes from the pilings, so we could head out.
It was a beautiful summer day in Sunset Cove, and I couldn’t believe I was behind the controls of this badass boat. Growing up first in San Francisco, then later here in Florida, taking a boat out to deep-sea fish, or even just to spend the day or weekend with friends in a hidden cove, was nothing new. But the size and luxury of this vessel had even me slightly nervous.
We were out of the inlet and heading into open waters in no time, with the wind whipping around us, and the sheer beauty of the pristine waters as far as the eye could see. Standing there at the bridge of this beauty was a little overwhelming. Then again, I thought, as I looked to the man standing beside me, everything Ace does is always with some amount of flair and is generally enough to take my breath away—including the way he’d casually stripped out of his shirt around ten minutes ago. He was standing beside me at the controls, dressed only in his khaki cargo shorts, flip-flops, and Aviators, and he looked phenomenal. Like he could be in the middle of shooting a scene in one of his movies. Tanned all over, and his muscles were sculpted and so well defined you could follow their path with your tongue should one be so inclined…which I just so happened to be.
Ace must’ve caught my stare out of the corner of his eye, because he turned in my direction and leaned his shoulder up against the railing. “You know, as much as I enjoy being your sole focus, Daydream, don’t you think you should pay attention to what you’re doing?”
I reached for my glasses and pulled them down my nose a little so I could make a show of checking him out. Then I clucked my tongue and pushed the glasses back in place. “Trust me, I know exactly what I’m doing.”
“And what’s that?”
“Why, I’m kidnapping you, Mr. Locke,” I said, in my best impression of a Bond villain.
Ace chuckled, and then pushed off the railing to walk over to me. I kept my eyes forward as he stepped behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. As I settled back against his chest, I felt him nestle his groin in against my backside and put his lips to my temple.
“Is it really a kidnapping, though, if I provided the transportation?”
“Hey,” I said. “Don’t try and ruin my fantasy here.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, nipping at the shell of my ear. “Please continue. Where are you taking me, you scary, scary man?”
“That’s better… I’m taking you somewhere secluded—”
“I’m liking this.”
“Where I can tie you up—”
“I’m still liking this.”
I whipped my head around. “Really? You like that idea?”
One of Ace’s eyebrows winged up in response, and the side of his lips tilted. “Shocked?”
“I shouldn’t be, but I think you like surprising the shit out of me.”
“I do,” he said, nodding.
“Good thing I like surprises.”
Ace lifted his sunglasses and put them on his head so I could see his eyes. The look he gave was so full of sensual promise it nearly knocked the breath right out of me, and I had to tighten my grip on the wheel and refocus on trying not to steer us off course.
Today, I wanted to talk with Ace. To finally tell him about my past. But for now, as we stood there at the wheel of the yacht, I was content to relax into him and enjoy the promise of the smooth waters—before they potentially turned turbulent.
* * *
A HALF-HOUR LATER, Dylan had dropped anchor in a secluded little inlet just offshore, and I’d gone down into the cabin to grab the lunch basket I’d ordered for us. When I came back up to the deck, he’d removed his shirt and spread out a couple of large beach towels on the bow. He had a bottle of suntan lotion in one hand, and as he turned and caught sight of me and the basket I carried, he shook his head.
“I was planning to catch a few fish with my bare hands for lunch, but I guess that’ll have to do,” he said, grinning.
Setting the basket down, I took the bottle out of Dylan’s hands and gave it a quick shake. Then I flipped open the cap and poured some of the lotion into my hand. “I’d love to see that. Maybe next time.”
“Maybe— Oh, that feels good.” He moaned as I took my time rubbing the lotion into his neck and shoulders before massaging my way down his back. I loved the feel of his body beneath my hands, all those lean muscles and smooth skin. When I kissed the spot beneath his ear, he said, “You just want to feel me up.”
“I do. I also want to feed you.”
Dylan’s eyes met mine. “Is that right?”
Nodding, I dropped to my knees and reached for the basket.
“Oh,” he said, disappointment in his voice. “I thought you meant…something different.”
“I meant that too. But first…” Reaching inside, I took out the contents of the basket—five different containers of sliced cheese and crackers, fruit, wraps, and mini cheesecakes. Then I patted the spot next to me.
Dylan sat down, scooted in closer, and plucked a grape from one of the containers before popping it into his mouth. “Oh, very fancy. Do you have wine to go with?”
I reached back into the basket and pulled out the chilled bottle of white I’d had stashed in the fridge downstairs, and Dylan lounged back on an elbow.
“I sure could get used to this. Lying out on the deck of some luxury yacht and sunning myself while some buff guy pours me wine and feeds me.”
I halted mid-pour. “Some buff guy?”
Dylan gave a casual shrug, but the curl of his lips belied his indifference. “Sure. As long as he’s naked from the waist up and handing me a glass of wine, what do I care about pesky details like his name?”
I finished pouring the alcohol, recorked the bottle, and then leaned across the spread of food to hand Dylan the glass. As he took it from me, our fingers skimmed and I said, “Exactly. What’s in a name, right?”
Dylan sat up until his lips were inches from mine, and he licked them. “Right. Unless, of course, that name is Ace Locke, because that’s a name I like saying, moaning, and shouting at any given time of the day.”
I hummed my agreement before taking Dylan’s mouth in a hot, quick kiss. It was a stamp of approval for his words, and if I were honest, a stamp of ownership over the way those same words affected me. I loved hearing my name fall from his lips, no matter which way he was saying it, and right now, as I moved away from him, it was a whisper-soft sigh.
“I’m rather fond of Dylan Prescott, not gonna lie.” As I sat back on my side of the towel, Dylan slowly raised the glass to his lips and took a sip, keeping his eyes focused on me the whole while, and when he lowered the glass he swallowed and a frown furrowed his brow.
I wasn’t exactly sure what was going through Dylan’s head right then, because he’d gone from carefree and relaxed to pensive and what I could’ve sworn was nervous, and it had me reaching for him. But Dylan shook his head.
“Hey, what’s going on over there?” I asked, aiming a small smile in his direction, but something had definitely shifted here. “Dylan?”
Dylan sat up and placed the glass of wine down by his side. Then he bent his legs and drew them up to his chest, where he wrapped his arms around them. And in an instant he’d gone from open and inviting to closed off.
“Dylan? Did I do something—”
“No,” he interrupted, again shaking his head. Eyes downcast. “You’re perfect.”
Okay… The way he said the word had my concern growing tenfold, because it certainly wasn’t said in the same complimentary tone from minutes ago.
“This is perfect. All of it…and I joke about it, but Ace,” he said, raising his eyes to meet mine across the vast space that now seemed to gape between us, “my life is not perfect. Far from it. Hell, my name isn’t even Dylan Prescott. I don’t even say it out loud anymore. I choose not to acknowledge it. But those reporters, the people digging into every aspect of your life…they’re going to work that out, sooner rather than later. And there’s things you need to know. About me. About my past.”
“And I want to know those things,” I said. “I haven’t forgotten about what you started to tell me in Vegas. But I’d never push you to open up. If you’re ready to tell me, I’m ready to hear you.”
“Thank you.”
Trying to ease the anxiety I could see building in the tense cords of his neck and shoulders, I held up the wine and said, “Need a bit more?”
“Wouldn’t be a bad idea.”
As I refilled Dylan’s glass, he looked over my shoulder, staring out across the calm, quiet ocean. I’d wondered for a while what he’d wanted to tell me that day we’d lounged on the bed at Syn, but I knew whatever it was, it wasn’t something that would be easy for him to talk about. But I wanted to know this man, know every part of him and all the secrets he kept hidden from the rest of the world. I wanted to be the one he shared himself with.
“It’s easy…” Dylan said, fingering the lip of the glass. “It’s easy to forget myself when I’m off doing things I only ever dreamed of when I was younger. Back then, I started with smaller dreams. I wanted a mom and a dad. Ones who cared enough to make sure I did my homework and tucked me in every night. I wanted to live in the same house for more than a week at a time. I wanted to eat something other than stale cereal and fast food scraps my mom’s ‘boyfriends’ left behind.” He bit down on his lip before continuing. “But most of all, I wanted to feel safe. I never felt safe until I met Sunshine and Ziggy. And even when they came into my life, I spent a long time waiting for the ball to drop, waiting for them to give me back, or turn into the kind of people my mom had associated with for years.”
I stayed silent, not daring to breathe a word that would have him clamming up. I wanted to know what his mom had done, and why he’d never known his father.
As though he’d read my mind, he said, “My mom was…very well known in San Francisco. Not in the political or entertainment circles; not because of any amazing contributions to charity. She was an underground gutter rat, a prostitute turned madam that hustled men, women, sex, and drugs.”
My eyes must’ve widened to saucers, because Dylan let out a humorless chuckle.
“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t have guessed that, huh?” he said.
I shook my head. “No. No, I can’t say the thought would’ve crossed my mind.”
“Good.”
As I watched him down the rest of his wine, I wondered how long it had taken him to shed the layers of his past, what had led to him being placed in foster care, and how he’d emerged not only alive, but seemingly thriving. There was also something else he’d hinted at that I was curious about.
“Before…you said you never knew your father,” I said, and Dylan nodded. “But did you know who he was?”
“I’m sure good ole Mom could’ve narrowed down the list to about twenty-five potential sperm donors, but finding out who knocked her up was never high on her priority list. Hell, I’m surprised she had me at all, but my guess is she wanted someone to join the family business.”
My gut tightened as his last words lingered. “Join?”
The grim line of Dylan’s lips made it abundantly clear how uncomfortable he was talking about this, and though I didn’t want to push him, I had this inexplicable need to know what had happened to him, no matter how hard it was to hear.
Dylan’s eyes had taken on a faraway look, as if he was no longer even sitting there with me, and before I knew I was going to do it, I leaned over and took his hand in mine. When he looked in my direction, I squeezed his fingers and, without words, invited him to lean on me.
As Dylan silently got to his feet, I made sure to keep his fingers locked in mine. He stepped over the food that had been separating us, and when he stopped in front of my crossed legs, I tilted my head up to see the sun shining around him, and felt breathless at the picture he made.
“Come here,” I whispered, and gently tugged on his hand, urging him down to my lap. He lowered himself until he was seated and facing me, his legs on either side of my waist, and his ass nestled on my crossed legs with our hands still entwined between us. “Nothing you tell me is going to change the way I feel about you.”
“That’s easy to say—”
I tipped his face up so he was looking me directly in the eye then, and told him with more sincerity than I ever remembered feeling, “It’s easy to mean when it’s you who I’m talking about.”
“Ace…” he said, and leaned his forehead to mine, closing his eyes.
I wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him as close to me as I could get him. Hoping to make him feel that sense of safety he’d spoken about only moments ago. “Tell me, Dylan. I want to know you. The good, the bad, and the—”
“Ugly?” he said. “If only that had been the case. You know what’s crazy?”
Trying to keep up, I just went with it, letting Dylan lead this conversation where he needed it to go. Letting him tell me however he wanted to tell me.
“No. What’s crazy?”
“That I use my looks to get paid. In a way, I’m no different—”
“Hey,” I said, leaning back a little to get his attention. “Don’t you dare compare what you do to what you just told me she did.”
“Right, but you don’t understand. This face, the face that’s getting me contracts with more zeroes than I could ever imagine seeing on a paycheck, is the exact same face she was trying to cash in on.”
As a shuddering breath racked Dylan’s body, he lowered his eyes from mine, and as much as I’d urged him to tell me about his past, I was terrified of what he was about to reveal. Not because of others knowing, but because I wasn’t sure I could stand to hear how someone had hurt this man.
“For years my mother—Brenda—would use me as—” Dylan bit off his words and cringed, and I ran a soothing hand up his back, needing the contact with him to calm my shaking hands.
So Brenda was his mom, and that had been who Sunshine was referring to that day in the desert. “She’d use me as bait, I guess, is what police ended up calling it. She worked out I was a somewhat…powerful lure to certain men, and that they would be willing to pay big bucks to be able to stroke a pretty boy’s face. To touch his hair. To have him in the room while they—” Dylan coughed, and it sounded as though he was close to choking on the words he was forcing out of his mouth. His jaw bunched and ticked as he ground his molars together, and when he finally had himself under control, he started to talk again. “She never let them go further than that. Her one act of kindness to me, I suppose, until the final night…”
“Dylan, you don’t have to—” I started, guessing where this was going. Hating that he had to tell this story at all. But he shook his head, determined now, it seemed, to get this the fuck out and over with.
“No, let me finish. You need to know. To hear it from me, instead of reading it in some magazine.”
I brought my hand up to stroke it over his cheek, and when he shut his eyes and nuzzled into it, my heart ached for the boy he once was. But that wasn’t all I felt there on the bow of the boat under the afternoon sun. At that exact, heartbreaking moment, my chest swelled with pride for the demons this man had battled, and I knew without a shred of doubt that I loved Dylan Prescott more than anyone else on this earth.