Worth Keeping (3 page)

Owen took a deep breath and raised his eyes to meet Nick’s. “I hope you don’t mind me being here. You were in a bit of a state last night and I thought you could use the company.” He grinned suddenly. “I kept my hands and everything else to myself, I promise.” He flushed slightly. “Apart from the morning wood. Sorry I poked you.” He shifted guiltily.

“Thank you,” Nick said softly. “It was a pretty bad nightmare last night.”

Like the one the night before and the night before that.

He’d thought he’d been free of them. But sometimes they crept upon him, like dark thieves lurking in the background to steal away his confidence. “I’m sorry I disturbed you, Owen.”

They lay in silence for a while. Nick wanted to get out of the bed but he was embarrassed by his cock still standing at full attention. He tried to think of things that would make it subside, like the bad weather last night then the morning sun through the window and the now bright blue skies outside. Nick thought of ships on the storm-laden seas and hoped the weather hadn’t caused havoc. He’d check the Coastguard reports later online.

Owen’s brilliant eyes were still drawn to Nick’s bare chest, assessing him carefully. Nick pulled the duvet up, hoping to hide the scars, the multitude of pockmarks on his nipples, breastbone and stomach left by cigarettes, the thin scars on his shoulders. Owen looked at him appraisingly.

Nick cursed the daylight and the truths it brought with it. He finally moved to get up, deciding a morning woody was worth the embarrassment as opposed to this thorough inspection of his body.

Owen grasped his shoulder, holding him back. Nick stilled at the expression on Owen’s face, a mixture of compassion and something else—sheer tenderness. He lost his breath at that look. Nick was torn between badly wanting this man to touch him and fleeing. He stayed. Owen’s long, warm fingers started to explore his past. Owen’s fingers moved lightly over Nick’s chest, touching the scars, finding the long, jagged one underneath his right arm that trailed down to his ribs.

Nick’s own morning hard-on got steelier by the minute at the other man’s gentle touch. Owen drew a deep, shuddering breath. “Jesus, Nick, someone really did a number on you.” His voice was uncertain. “Unless you did that to yourself?”

Nick laughed shortly. “No, I can’t take the credit for these ones. Not my work.”

Owen shook his head in incredulity. “Who the fuck could do this to someone? Nick, what the hell happened to you?”

Nick shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he whispered. He shivered as Owen’s fingertips slowly circled the burns. Then Owen did something totally unexpected. He leaned forward and kissed one of them. It was a soft, fleeting caress by a pair of warm lips that felt incredibly good against Nick’s skin. Nick pulled back defensively, sitting up, but Owen’s hand moved gently, pushing him back. The duvet fell to Nick’s hips and he closed his eyes in mortification at the tenting of it around his groin.

Owen chuckled, a rich, warm sound that went straight to Nick’s cock. “Don’t worry. I’ve got the same thing. I’ve had it ever since I met you, so I can’t blame the whole morning erection thing. You are one of the sexiest men I’ve ever met.” Owen moved over Nick, his hands slowly caressing Nick’s stomach and flanks as he kissed the marks with small butterfly kisses. His tongue trailed lazily over the long scar under his arm. Nick’s breathing grew deeper as he closed his eyes, trying to rationalise what the hell was happening.

“You think too much,” Owen’s voice whispered in his good ear. “Just go with the flow. Feel it instead of thinking about it.” His warm breath ghosted Nick’s cheek. Owen smelt of warmth and sex and musk, driving Nick crazy.

“I can’t,” Nick’s strangled whisper was forced out of a throat that threatened to close in sheer emotion. “It’s been too long.”

What the hell had happened to him? Yesterday he’d wanted to die and now all he wanted to do was get close to this man.

Owen nibbled at the soft skin of Nick’s throat. “All the more reason to do this,” he murmured as his tongue found Nick’s ear. Warm, wet heat being pushed inside made Nick growl, a low, needy sound that he didn’t recognise as coming from his own throat.

Owen’s beautiful eyes glittered with desire as he moved half over Nick, his erection now pressing against Nick’s hip through their sweatpants.

“God, I want you so much,” Owen murmured as he pressed himself harder against Nick. “I am so bloody hard I’m going to explode.” His mouth found Nick’s, his tongue seeking and eager, and the world ignited in Nick’s vision with shades of red and orange like his bedroom decor, flames of sheer lust flicking at his consciousness. He could no more resist this man than he could cut off his own arm with Sock’s penknife.

Gripping Owen tightly around the back of his head, Nick ground their mouths together, his own tongue thrusting into Owen’s hot and hungry mouth. Their bare chests matted with each other’s sweat. Nick’s hands found the waistband of Owen’s sweatpants and he slid his fingers inside, touching warm, firm skin and pulling them down over Owen’s thighs. Owen wiggled on top of him, lifting his hips, letting Nick push them down further. Nick groaned at the feel of Owen’s hard, silky cock, already wet and leaking, lying against Nick’s bare stomach.

“Now it’s your turn,” Owen growled, sitting back on Nick’s legs. He peeled Nick’s sweats off his lean hips, allowing Nick’s engorged cock to spring out and make itself known. Owen flung the bottoms to the floor and stood up, removing his own and throwing them down too. Then Owen was on top of Nick again, his cock pressing eagerly against Nick’s, rubbing up and down his own silky smoothness. Nick reached down, gripping both of their cocks in his hand, coating it with their combined essence, stroking them both as Owen’s mouth again found his in a wanton display of tongue, spit and teeth.

Nick couldn’t remember the last time a man had kissed him like this, with desire and need. Brad, his ex, had been possessive and controlling when they kissed. Owen voraciously fucking his mouth with a tongue that should have been classified as a dangerous weapon made Nick’s body shudder as he moaned into Owen’s open, hungry mouth. Owen mewled on top of him, his body humping against Nick’s as Nick jacked them both off.

“Christ, Nick, that feels so good,” Owen panted, coal-black hair falling over his face, obscuring the eyes that Nick could gaze into for eternity. He groaned, the feel of another’s man’s warmth against his skin like morning sunshine. Even the slightly sour morning breath ghosting his nostrils was welcome. Nick increased the tempo on their cocks. Owen gasped at the sensation as his hips unashamedly humped Nick’s. Owen’s urgent hand burrowed in between them as he helped Nick bring them both to a climax.

Nick’s own body entered orbit and he gave a loud shout as his cock spurted, his balls pushing upward into his groin, tightening and constricting as he shot warm strings of semen over his and Owen’s belly. His orgasm seemed to last forever, leaving him sensitive and twitching. Owen gave a load groan and buried his face in Nick’s neck, his teeth nipping at the skin, making Nick exclaim loudly as Owen drew blood.

“Oh my God,” Owen whispered, his voice hoarse as he came all over Nick’s hands and stomach. The acrid smell of semen and male sweat permeated the bedroom as they collapsed, panting, side by side on the bed. For a while there was only the ticking of the nautical clock on the wall to penetrate the silence. Nick felt a sense of peace followed immediately by a rush of panic. This had all been too soon.

What the fuck had he been thinking? He hadn’t had sex for over a month so he could understand the physical reaction, but the emotional one he had from having someone so close wasn’t right. He didn’t even know this man.

He lay there until he could keep still no longer. Owen looked to be half asleep. Nick swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. His voice was clipped when he spoke. “As fun as that was, you need to be getting on your way, Owen. I’m sure there are people worrying about you and you need to get home or do what you need to do. You don’t owe me any answers but it’s time to leave.”

He disappeared into the bathroom and started the shower. He stepped in, letting the warm water once again ease his tenseness, trying to wash away his regret for what had just happened. When he walked back into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, Owen was gone. Nick felt a sense of loss so keen it took his breath away.

All the more reason to get rid of this man who’d invaded his life.

He dressed into clean jeans, an old white Versace long-sleeved shirt and boots and went into the open plan kitchen/dining room. Owen was seated at the dining table, dressed now in his own clothes. Socks perched at the end of the kitchen counter, watching Owen and chattering occasionally.

“I have no idea what he’s saying but it sounded like ‘Good Morning.’” Owen smiled but it seemed forced. He thrust long legs out in front of him and Nick saw he was barefoot. He remembered Owen had no shoes on when he washed ashore. The sweats and tee shirt Nick had loaned him were neatly folded on one of the chairs.

“I found my drying but I’m damned if I can find my jacket,” Owen murmured.

Nick gestured to the airing cupboard. “It’s in there. I’ll get it for you.” He opened the enclosure, removed the jacket and handed to Owen. “You could have taken a shower first, you know. I didn’t mean you had to dress and leave right away.” He switched on the kettle.

Owen regarded him carefully. “That’s what it sounded like.” His eyes were haunted. “I’m sorry we didn’t even really get a chance to chat properly. It’s all been a bit too intense. But I was curious. I wanted to find out what you actually do here. It’s the first time I’ve ever been near a lighthouse.” He looked guilty. “Um, where exactly am I anyway? I haven’t got a clue.”

“This is the Pebble Cove Lighthouse. Pebble Cove is a small fishing village just outside Cromer here in Norfolk. You’re about three hundred feet above sea level where we sit now, on a small island about half a mile into the sea.”

Owen’s eyes widened. “You stay here on your own?”

Nick nodded as he spooned instant coffee grounds into cups. “Yes. I’ve been here a year. But town isn’t far. It’s across the path when the tide is out, about a mile away.”

“What exactly do
you
do here then?” Owen asked. Nick poured the boiling water into cups, passing Owen a cup of black coffee, putting milk and sugar down on the table. Owen picked up a spoon, added milk and ladled three full teaspoons of sugar into his coffee. Nick watched in distaste.

Owen saw the look. “What?” he said indignantly. “I like sweet stuff. So sue me.”

Nick shook his head. “That stuff will rot your teeth.” But he smiled. “What I do here is keep the grounds clean, fix anything that needs fixing and generally be the handyman. When the lighthouse is open in the summer months and holiday seasons, then I’m expected to show people around, do a bit of a tour.” He shrugged. “But not a lot of people come out here so it’s relatively secluded.” He sipped his black coffee.

“Do you have to switch the lights on when it gets dark?” Owen’s hands toyed with the pepper shaker on the kitchen table.

Nick shook his head. “No. This is generally a non-functional lighthouse, more of a heritage site really. The light doesn’t shine unless there’s a major coastal emergency of some sort. It’s all automated from a control centre in Harwich.”

“And the paint stains on the clothes? What’s that all about?” Owen leaned back in his chair, placing the pepper shaker next to the salt.

“I have a small studio in the lighthouse. I do oil painting, seascapes and stuff. It gets a bit messy when I’m in the zone.”

Nick didn’t want Owen to ask any more questions. He just wanted him gone because the longer he sat there the more Nick wanted him to stay. He wondered if Owen would try to kill himself again. The thought made his stomach lurch uncomfortably. “What are you going to do now?” he asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

Owen regarded him thoughtfully. “Do you really care?”

Nick scowled. “Of course I care. I know it’s your decision but I’d feel fucking bad if I let you go and you went and threw yourself off the cliff.”

“Like you were trying to do?” Owen’s voice was even and Nick blinked, a frisson of unease winding down his spine. Owen watched his face. “I might have been freezing and half-conscious but I saw you on the cliff with your arms opened. You looked as if you were going to jump.”

Nick’s face tightened. “That’s none of your business. And actually, no, I don’t really care what you do. I just hope you make it home okay, wherever that may be.” His tone left no doubt that he wanted Owen to leave, even though his emotions said something else.

Christ, since when had he become so bloody needy?

Owen nodded as he stood up. “Actually I’m sticking around a while.”

Nick gazed at him in surprise. “What? Here at Pebble Cove?”

“Last time I looked it was a free country.” Owen’s voice was even. “Yes, here at Pebble Cove. I’m going to book into a hotel or something, if there is one, take a bloody shower because I smell rank and stay a while until I figure out what I want to do. I assume you have a bed and breakfast of some sort and a bank in town?” His tone was scathing. Nick nodded.

“Good. I can sort some money out. I still have my bank card in my wallet. I’m hoping it will still work. If not,” he shrugged, “I’ll figure something out. But I’m not going home.”

“You have no shoes but you kept your wallet when you jumped off whatever boat it was you were on?” Nick said incredulously.

Owen bristled. “The shoes were designer wear. No use ruining them if someone could use them. And the wallet was a way of proving my identity if anyone found my body floating in the sea. That was the plan anyway.”

Nick heard the pain in the other man’s voice and his heart lurched. He knew that place so well. The man hadn’t denied he’d jumped either. “Owen—”

Owen waved a hand. His face was tense, his lean body taut. His eyes glittered like shiny green Christmas baubles. “You’ve made your position pretty clear. I’m not going to thank you for dragging me back here.” His voice caught. “But I will thank you for your hospitality. The early morning exercise bit wasn’t too bad either. It was good to be with someone who needed me. And you did, Nick. Don’t kid yourself.”