Heat Stroke (Beach Kingdom, #2)(26)

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.





CHAPTER TEN





Jamie stared out at the sparkling Atlantic, wondering—not for the first time—how the beach could at once be the most serene place on the planet and the most violent. He’d spent enough summers lifeguarding to know how much pleasure people derided from the sand, the surf, the sun. Families created memories around the base of his chair. Farther out, past the break, vacationers skimmed along the blue on jet skis or boats. In the blink of an eye, it could change, though. A storm could roll in, an undertow could begin without anyone knowing, a rescue might take place. A fight could break out.

Growing up, Jamie had been no stranger to altercations. His father owned a bar, for chrissakes, one that had been far rougher once upon a time. He’d seen his fair share of bloodied faces and drunken arguments. Blessed with their father’s temper, Rory was constantly getting into scrapes at an early age, which meant Andrew and Jamie stepped in and threw their own punches when it was necessary to defend their younger brother.

Compared to what happened to him six years ago on this beach, those fights had been so innocent. Over dumb shit, like perceived slights. Nothing like the hate-fueled attack he’d experienced first hand not a hundred yards from where he sat. Jamie could still remember seeing Chris approaching on the beach and kind of being exasperated. Jesus, this guy again? There’d been little to no chemistry to begin with and an awkward amount of time had passed since they’d spoken. Why show up at his job?

That’s when he’d seen Chris’s friends—and he’d known. He’d known based on their disgusted expressions that this fight wouldn’t be innocent, like the ones he’d grown up with. There were too many of them to fend off, they were visibly intoxicated and Jamie was their intended target. For the first time in his life, he’d been in danger. If Rory hadn’t shown up and stopped them from raining blows down on Jamie and holding him under the water for longer and longer periods of time, their hatred could have been the last thing he ever saw.

Thank God it hadn’t been. Thank Rory, really. He’d sacrificed his freedom to defend Jamie and that was a debt that couldn’t be repaid. Every time Jamie got the notion to take a vacation in the summertime, to explore the world he read about in books instead of lifeguarding, he remembered that Rory had spent two years behind bars—and Jamie needed to be around to make sure it never happened again.

As he’d said last night, Marcus and Chris were nothing alike. Nothing at all. But Jamie couldn’t help but feel like putting some distance between himself and Marcus had been the right thing to do for his family, as well as himself.

Jamie was so deep in thought, he didn’t notice his oldest brother coming down the beach at first, even though Andrew’s arrival might have been precipitated by two dozen feminine sighs of appreciation that took place around Jamie’s lifeguard chair.

Jamie had known this encounter was coming. Which was precisely why he’d skipped breakfast this morning and snuck out the side door with a bagel in his mouth.

He should have known his brother would find a way.

With a sigh, Jamie leaned back in his seat and observed the arrival of the Prince elder. His ever present clipboard was carried loosely at his hip, Ray-Bans hiding eyes that were identical to Jamie’s and Rory’s. They never strayed to any of the girls fawning over him as he walked past on the beach. As usual, Jamie’s brother was immune to any kind of attention, unless it came straight from a certain girl next door.

“Hey,” Andrew said, coming to a stop at the bottom of Jamie’s chair. “Talk to you for a second?”

Jamie smirked and hopped down from his perch. “Sorry I took the last bagel this morning.”