his waist again, this time holding him still so I could thrust up into his body. His panting breaths became moans and I lost my mind, chasing the waves of pleasure, building them up, then slowing down, teasing with tiny rocks to make it last, winding us both tighter and tighter.
He leaned back, placing his hands just above my knees. That angle had me nailing his prostate. I could tell from the little yelps that left his throat, from the precum that leaked from him in a clear stream.
I wanted to roll him over onto his back so I could fuck him harder, but the sight of him like this was too delicious. His smooth, tan stomach and chest heaving; the bunching muscles in his shoulders and arms. A sex flush spread from his breastbone up his chest and onto his neck and jaw. His nipples were peaked and hard, and goosebumps chased over his skin. His long penis bounced, slapping his stomach on every thrust, while his balls were drawn up tight at the base. So sexy. Goddamn. I drank in the sight.
I needed this visual on instant replay, in my head, at all times. How could he still seem innocent and good while also being raunchy as sin?
“Touch me,” he said, voice shaky. “Just—I’m so close.”
I put my fist around his shaft. There was so much precum, it was easy to slick my hand. He cried out and began to shake as I squeezed him. I pumped him as he ground down onto me, my own pleasure spilling over helplessly in convulsive, ecstatic waves. His ejaculate struck his chest as he threw back his head and made the sexiest sounds I’d ever heard.
We collapsed. He pulled off me, half-dazed, and fell into my arms. We lay there, the boat rocking us gently, the sun bright in the windows as our heart rates slowed and our breathing resumed a normal rhythm. He yawned.
“Memorable,” I said. “Mission accomplished.”
He smiled. “Definitely one for the life-review file.”
“The what?”
“You know. The stuff you see just before you die.”
“Charming.”
He moved his head to look at me. “It’s a compliment!”
“Mmm. Then you’re forgiven.”
He continued to look at me, a question in his eyes.
“I don’t remember if I had a life review or not. In the accident. But if I have one in the future, the past few minutes will undoubtedly be in it,” I offered.
He smiled and snuggled against me. “Good.”
We lay there awhile longer. The boat’s motion tried to put me to sleep. But though I felt pretty safe out here, I wasn’t prepared to completely let down my guard.
“You hungry?” Billy asked after a bit.
“I can wait.” We hadn’t brought food, because we hadn’t expected to be out too long. “You starving?”
“I can wait. Wouldn’t mind some water, though. And a little more sun.”
“Wouldn’t mind some caffeine.”
We got up, put on clothes, and went topside. We stayed anchored and lounged on the deck, my legs outstretched with Billy between them, leaning back on my chest. We enjoyed the green of the trees, the murmur of the river, and the blue of the sky. Each other.
It was not my old life, no. But it was a kind of jigsaw of old and new. It made me think I could still recover old parts of myself worth saving—like sailing. Even if it was in a changed capacity. And being crushed and put back together again had brought me new things. The simplicity of a Hunter 326 on the Hudson River. Jack. Barbecuing at Malfleur. The pool. Billy. These were things I couldn’t begin to measure the value of now that, ironically, I wouldn’t have looked at twice before.
For the first time, I could almost be grateful for the accident. Almost. If only others hadn’t paid the price.
I hugged Billy tighter.
“I . . . um . . . I’m glad you’re having a good day, Aaron.” Billy squeezed my hand.
I heard the hesitancy in his voice and knew that wasn’t what he wanted to say. The words were in my throat too. Love. I love you.
But it was too soon for that. I kissed the side of his head and muttered a simple thanks.
There’d be plenty of time for love. Billy wasn’t going away to college. He wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was I.
Chapter 17
Billy
The garage door was open, the lights on, when I pulled into our driveway at five on a Thursday night. I’d promised my mom I’d be home for dinner. I’d been spending