Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 120189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
We leave the lounge at once and take a long winding path around the resort back to all of the cabanas that line the private beaches. I don’t even remember the walk; the first thing I’m aware of is being back in the cabana with the pretty lamps and the lush furniture and the salty air. I get my clothes off in a fit of giggles, dizzy, then drop onto the bed completely naked. The feel of the soft sheets on my skin is like swimming in whipped cream and ocean breeze. I don’t even know how I’m angled on the bed, spread out akimbo with a drunken smile stretched from one ear to the other.
Ben nestles against my body and pulls me into his arms. He’s naked, too, I realize. I grunt and explore his body with my sleepy, clumsy fingers. Somewhere between a lazy kiss and the grazing of his hand along my bare ass, I drift away.
35
Benjamin is a people-pleaser.
I watch Trevor for a whole hour, splayed out on the bed on his stomach with his cute butt exposed through the sheets as he softly breathes, sleeping. The morning sunlight fills the room along with the calm roaring of the ocean. I can’t pull my eyes from Trevor.
Yeah, I’m totally being the creep watching him as he dreams.
The moment he hit the bed last night, he was out. Despite our cuddling naked and not having any sex at all, I found myself far from disappointed. I was full of joy, warmed and at peace. I feel a responsibility to keep him safe too, protecting him in every way.
That means protecting him from myself, too.
The last way I want to take his virginity is through drunken, spoiled, sloppy sex. That sort of messing around can come later, because it does have its place, but not now, and not when it’ll feel too much like taking advantage of someone I care about.
And I do care about him, even for as relatively short a time as we’ve known each other. Exactly three weeks yesterday, in fact, but it feels much longer. I’ve really gotten to know Trevor quickly in the thick of it all. There is something about his personality that marries so well with mine whether we’re kidding around, kicking back, or going to town on each other’s faces. There isn’t age between us. There isn’t money between us. There isn’t fame or class between Trevor and I.
No. We are just two men, between which I only see sparks.
I hope I’m not being naïve in feeling that way. I just can’t deny how smart, aware, and observant Trevor is. Of all the younger men who have passed through my life like street signs in a speeding car, none have caught my eye—and my soul—like he has. There is something about him that is like spiritual kin to me. And I don’t mean “kin” in the he’s-my-“son” way; I’m really not into the daddy-son thing, as I have had the pleasure of witnessing plenty of that when I once represented one of San Francisco’s leading men (cough, daddies) in the leather scene. I mean that something about Trevor aligns with me in a way that transcends age and lifestyle.
And he called me “boyfriend”. It might have been a slip, but I saw the sincerity in his eyes, like using that word was as natural as calling me by my actual name. Benjamin. Boyfriend.
The thought has me smiling all over again. Boyfriend … This whole weekend, I want to wine and dine him like the prince I think he is. And today, he’s certainly going to feel the part.
Prince Trevor.
Slowly, and at last, Trevor begins to stir, as if osmosing all of my thoughts about him somehow. I watch as he writhes out of the feathery dreams he was likely having on this ridiculously swanky mattress and these sumptuous, silky sheets. He slowly peels open his sleepy eyes, searches for mine, and then a cute, blushing smile spreads across his face. “Hi,” he croaks.
I run a hand through his hair and return his smile. “Morning. Sleep well?”
He turns over onto his back and pulls the sheet across his waist, as if deciding now to be modest. This is the same boy who ripped off all his clothes last night, torpedoed into the bed buck naked, and fell asleep against my equally undressed body. “I slept naked,” he murmurs in a sleepy voice, still smiling all cutely. He starts to stretch, all his little muscles flexing with him as he does, revealing some obliques I didn’t realize he had. “But I slept really, really, really well.”
“Glad to hear it. I did, too.”
He stiffens up suddenly and stares at me, wide-eyed. “Wait. Did we …? D-Did we, um …?”
I roll my eyes. “Really, Trevor? You’re going to pretend like you don’t remember what we did last night? You had one drink. One. And a splash of tequila hours before.”