After Felix - Lily Morton Page 0,17
in my mouth, that first sharp inhale.” He’s silent, but his eyes are intent on me. I sit back. “So, I started smoking again.”
“Felix, is this your own version of an anti-smoking campaign? Because I think the government adverts are probably more effective.”
I snort. “No. What I’m saying is that no one could tell me to stop doing it. They were absolutely right in what they said, but I wouldn’t listen. So I went back to smoking, and that first cigarette disabused me of the notion that it was great.”
“Why?”
“I threw up in my mouth. It was fucking rank.” I grimace. “And then I packed up, but it worked that time, because it was me calling the shots.” I smile at him. “It’s the same with your job. Anyone can tell you that it’s dangerous and you could die, but you have to decide for yourself, Max, and then maybe you’ll stick with it.”
He watches me for a too-long second and then suddenly smiles. “You’re actually very wise, Felix, aren’t you?”
“Should not be said in such a tone of surprise.” I smile at him as he laughs, relieved to hear the familiar sound of his laughter. “So, what do you think you’ll do?”
He sits back and drains his pint, giving me a heated glance. “I’m going to take you in the toilet and suck you off. Then I’m going to wank until I come all over you. And then I’m going to treat us to a pub lunch and so many pints that we’ll have to be rolled home.”
“You silver-tongued charmer, you,” I say faintly. But my smile stays in place as he laughs again. We’re obviously both happy to put away intimacy and get back to what we do best. Shagging.
A Few Weeks Later
It’s quiet on the boat, the only sound the lapping of the water outside and Max’s gentle snores.
I roll over and look down at him. He’s tangled in my duvet with his feet sticking out over the end of my bed. He’s patently too tall for my mattress, but I never realised it before because we’ve never actually spent the night in the same bed.
Usually, we’ll lie together for a bit after sex, and then he starts to get fidgety—my cue to get up and leave. It’s one reason I occasionally suggest we hook up on my boat. At least this way he can be the one who has to get dressed and fuck off, and I can ignore the slight dip I get in my stomach lately when I know that he’s waiting for me to go.
But last night he didn’t choose to leave. He passed out after sex as quickly as if I’d coshed him. There are dark circles under his eyes and lines of weariness in his face. My stomach takes another worrisome dip.
I sigh, trying to keep it quiet, so he doesn’t wake up. I’m getting attached to Max, and it’s a fucking disaster in the making. My safeguards aren’t working. Like the idea of meeting here on the boat—it’s backfired spectacularly. He’s absolutely fascinated by boat life, and, as seems to be Max’s raison d’etre, he’s nosed his way into my neighbours’ lives and now knows everyone on a first-name basis.
It’s starting to become the norm for people to see me and automatically look around for Max. What makes it even worse is that I actually want him here all the time and not just for a shag. All of it makes me very uneasy.
I drink in the lines of his body, something I can’t normally do, as he typically deflects any interest on my part. His body is beautiful—long and taut with the hair-roughened chest and muscled arms roped with veins. His genes must be excellent, because he does very little to keep himself this way. Although he is a restless spirit, always on the move and looking for entertainment—so maybe that explains it.
The moonlight turns the scars on his body into dark splodges. I trace them with my eyes, particularly the one on his shoulder which is a knotty, mangled mess. He’s dismissive of his scars, saying they’re a product of roaming the globe in areas where people don’t serve tea and want a cosy chat. However, I know from things he’s let slip that there are at least another two bullet wounds. He was either spectacularly brave or the unluckiest person alive.
His face is peaceful in sleep. Almost innocent-looking. All his energy is gone for now, although he’s