Love In Slow Motion (Love Beyond Measure #2) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,45

kayak sent ripples, and then something else rippled back. He held his breath and leaned forward, then off in the distance, a couple of dolphins broke the surface of the water. He’d spent enough time at the coast he should have been used to it, but his heart caught in his throat anyway, and he couldn’t take his eyes off the horizon. They were moving away from him, and he didn’t have the power in his arms to catch up, but that was fine. It felt like a gift anyway.

He took another breath, then began to paddle until he felt like he was going to collapse.

By the time Ilan got back to the house, every muscle in his body ached. He’d gone for a quick dip, then made his way back, and all he wanted was a long shower and hot meal. He could smell himself, and he grimaced as he headed for the bathroom, but came to a skidding halt when the doorbell rang.

Cursing under his breath, swearing that if it was a soul solicitor or knife salesman, he was going to throw them into the water, he marched to the door and flung it open. It took him a second to register that he was staring at Fredric, who was looking faintly nervous and clutching Bas’ harness.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Ilan asked, stepping back and opening the door wider. Panic crept up his spine. “What happened?”

Fredric’s brows dipped. “Nothing. I’m sorry, I should have waited for you to get back to me. You’re probably busy with…”

“What, no,” Ilan interrupted. “Come inside.”

Fredric gave Bas the command, then released the harness and looped the leash around his wrist before reaching for Ilan. “I was a little worried when you didn’t answer.”

Ilan dragged a hand down his face, then became very aware of his stench. “I was out on the kayak. I smell fucking rank.”

Fredric laughed, taking a step back, and the way his fingers dragged over Ilan’s skin made him shiver, which was…new. “Why don’t you shower, and Bas and I can wander around?”

Ilan had nothing to hide, not from anyone, but especially not from Fredric. “Kitchen’s straight ahead, living room to the right, my bedroom is down the hall on the left. Make yourself at home.”

He knew there were probably a hundred other things he should have mentioned. Low tables, area rugs, and he was pretty sure there were at least two pairs of shoes lying somewhere. But Fredric headed off to the kitchen, so he hurried to his room and closed the door.

As he sagged against the wood, he realized his breath was hitching in his chest like he’d run a mile, and he wondered when Fredric had begun to make him nervous. He’d known this man for most of his life—first as his best friend’s dad, then as one of the few people he trusted most in the world. Fredric had been the second person to know about his parents’ deaths and the first person to hold him together so he could cry and shake apart.

He’d seen Ilan at his best and his worst.

So why the hell were his palms sweating?

He didn’t have time for another existential crisis, so he grabbed clothes and a fresh towel, then hurried into the bathroom. He stepped under the cold spray, hating every second until it warmed up, and then he grabbed the soap and began to lather way the remnants of the murky water and sweat from his skin.

As the heat increased, Ilan dropped his head forward and let the water beat down on his sore muscles. He’d pay for the hours in the kayak, but in the best way. He’d lost himself in the rhythm of the current as he wandered farther and farther away from his house, and in the process, he felt more centered than ever.

At least, he had until he opened the door and Fredric was there.

In a sudden rush, the older man’s face came to life behind his closed lids, and he felt his dick harden. Opening up his eyes, he stared at his erection like it had betrayed him. This had never happened before.

Or well, it had once. Maybe twice…a handful of times at most, but that had been when he was a horny teenager. And he chalked it up to the fact that Fredric was kind, and he was tender, and he was so good looking it made Ilan ache. He’d never told Julian—hell, he’d never told anyone. And eventually those urges died