Bad Influence (25 page)

Eli laughed.

“So if I can’t be a good influence, I’ll have to be a horrible example?” Silver pulled down a couple glasses to fill with iced tea.

“Something like that.”

Silver slammed in some ice then stared at the glasses. “I told him I was positive. Hoped it’d slow him down a little.”

He wasn’t looking, but he felt Eli’s nod.

“Did you tell Zeb?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“We’re working through it. Taking it slow.”

“Sounds like fun.” Eli’s sarcasm put a lilt in his voice.

Even if the answer scarred him for life, Silver’s curiosity got the better of him. “So what the fuck was all that Greek stuff about?”

“Oh. Old-school gay code. Like back in the seventies and eighties. For saying what you were into. French or Greek, oral or anal, active or passive for top or bottom. Like I can’t tell in five seconds with a guy. Usually.” Eli tipped his head. “You’re hard to read though.”

Silver put his hands on the counter, bracketing Eli’s hips, and stared at his face, from his lips to his eyes. “Am I?”

Eli’s lashes dipped, and a laugh stuttered in his throat. “Not right now, no.”

Silver peeled away and smiled.

“Jesus. Where have you been hiding that?” Eli made an exaggerated fanning motion.

“Wasn’t up to me for a while.”

“Damn. If you didn’t have company, I’d drag you with me to the discount racks and find you something to make Zeb lose his shit when he sees you on the dock tomorrow.”

The hell with going slow. Silver pulled out his wallet and handed Eli thirty bucks. “There’s my budget. Knock yourself out.”

Chapter Seventeen

At the marina the next afternoon, Silver wouldn’t go so far as to say Zeb lost his shit, but the next time Silver heard the scrape and creak of boats against a dock and smelled marine diesel, he’d be playing back that look of hunger in Zeb’s eyes, the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Satisfaction surged hot and sweet.

Eli had worked magic in the bargain racks on Silver’s thirty bucks, offering proof in a receipt and three seventy-eight in change. It hadn’t seemed as if it was much in the bag, but with Eli wielding double-sided fabric tape, the bright blue tank top clung to every inch of Silver’s torso and an overshirt made Silver’s biceps look like Channing Tatum’s. Cargo shorts hugged his ass.

A look like the one in Zeb’s eyes would usually prompt Silver to do something to frame his cock. Which, after the dreams he’d had last night, he was desperate to get up Zeb’s ass in short order.

Instead, Silver had the unfamiliar sensation he could only label as shy. Now that he had what he wanted, he didn’t know what he wanted to do with it.

It was all Marco’s fault. That was where the doubt came from. Knowing how close Silver had been to giving in when drowning in someone else’s want. Doubt had dug in deep, as persistent as wood at age fourteen.

Or sixteen.

Was that what Silver had done to Zeb, pushed so hard he couldn’t say no? Was he still doing it?

A boat shining so white it hurt his eyes swung broadside to the dock. Gavin waved from the stern as it was piloted backward into the slip.

It was another one of those moments Silver wanted to freeze. Lock down all the possibilities while they were still all good before anything got said or done to change the way things felt. But the dock shifted under his feet, and Zeb stood next to him.

“Is that shirt painted on you?”

Silver shifted his shoulders. “Feels like it.” He shot a glance Zeb’s way. Clean-scraped jaw, a hint of sandalwood stronger than the oily backwash bubbling up from the boat’s motor. A scent so familiar it eased some of the unfamiliar shyness. Funny that Zeb had never changed his aftershave. No reason to, just because Silver used whatever was around. “You shaved.”

Zeb glanced down. “The principal will be happy.”

Gavin had a line in his hands as he stood over the letters naming the boat the
Carpe Diem
. Jamie drove a boat as arrogantly and as smoothly as he drove his cop car, swinging it into the narrow berth without ever touching the sides of the slip.

It wasn’t as big as Silver had been expecting, something that slept twenty and needed a launch to get out to, but another couple could join them before it would feel crowded.

When he stepped forward and helped Gavin with the cleat hitch, Gavin favored Silver with one of those almost smiles, and he found himself blushing. He put a hand up to his eyes as if shielding them from the sun.

“You’re a handy guy,” Zeb said in Silver’s ear.

“Handsy too.” Silver tried to pass it off with a leer.

“I didn’t know you knew your way around boats.”

“Sue me. In addition to
Star Wars
, I went through a hardcore Johnny Depp/Orlando Bloom pirate…thing.”

It had been a full-blown kink. Jack teaching Will what two men could or couldn’t do on a boat and then Will turning the tables, putting Jack on his knees.

“Thing, huh?” Zeb murmured as Eli and Quinn stepped aboard.

“A kink, okay?”

“Hmmm.” Zeb shouldn’t have been close enough for Silver to feel the sound vibrate against his skin, but it did, tingling in all the best places. “And here we are. On a boat.”

“With four other people,” Silver reminded him.

“You coming aboard?” Big surprise, Jamie was acting like he owned the damned boat.

Gavin urged Zeb toward the steps. “Silver and I will cast off.”

Jamie held out his hand to Zeb. “Help you aboard? Uh, sorry, forgot your name, buddy.”

Silver doubted that. Jamie didn’t forget much, so he was offering a mild Jamie-style insult. But whether it was general assholishness or something particular about Zeb, Silver couldn’t tell.

Gavin unwrapped the cleat as Silver climbed the stairs over the gunwale. He knew Gavin didn’t actually need help, but as he swung up over the gunwale himself, he passed the line and Silver retied it on the boat’s cleat.

“Where’d you pick that up?” Gavin watched Silver secure the line.

“Uh. Movies and a summer at camp.”

Gavin frowned. “The conversion camp Eli told us about?”

“No.” A choked laugh came out along with the answer, surprising Silver. Bitter as the laugh was, he didn’t ever expect he’d have managed any amusement at the thought of Path to Glory.

Gavin’s gaze shifted to where Jamie was gesturing from next to the wheel. “He looks better with the close shave.”

For a second, Silver thought Gavin was talking about Jamie, but that didn’t make sense.

Gavin meant Zeb. All this interest in Silver’s love—sex—life was starting to drive home the fact that despite every effort to keep ties to a minimum, he’d acquired friends. He couldn’t pin the interest on Gavin or even Quinn’s financial investment anymore. And it didn’t feel creepy. It was kind of nice. If a little weird.

“Yeah,” Silver agreed. “The bad-boy-Jesus thing only gets him so far.”

“I would imagine it could be challenging getting it up for a mythic philosopher martyred before the Common Era.”

Silver laughed, and the corners of Gavin’s eyes crinkled.

With a chin jerk to indicate the redhead acting all proprietary about Gavin’s yacht, Silver said, “He wears a cross and a saint medal. How do you guys handle that?”

Gavin regarded Silver steadily as the
Carpe Diem
’s engines churned the bay beneath their feet. Under Gavin’s appraisal, Silver’s tongue stuck like glue to the roof of his mouth. He didn’t know if Gavin knew Silver had had his boyfriend’s dick in his mouth. He didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news—however lacking in passion those fifteen minutes had been. He and Jamie hadn’t moved more clothing than strictly necessary, and it hadn’t been when Silver had spotted the religious stuff.

He pried his tongue free. “I’ve noticed it on him. Is it a problem between you, you not being a believer?”

Gavin shook his head. “I’ve never had a problem with other people’s superstitions provided they don’t use them to harm others.” His voice got hard there, and Silver wondered what—whose—superstitions had fucked with someone Gavin cared about. “Do you think Zeb’s beliefs will be a problem for you?”

Silver hadn’t had much time to think of the future. There was so much else, so much other baggage that still needed to be unpacked. The whole religion thing hadn’t made a ripple in Silver’s consciousness until now.

“I don’t know.”

Zeb hadn’t cared about Silver’s cynical attitude back then, but that was before Path to Glory, before just mentioning a Bible verse could get Silver twitching. He knew it wasn’t only words to Zeb, or superstition. And Silver wasn’t planning on changing his attitude anytime soon.

Gavin had waited patiently for Silver to expand on his lame answer.

“It hasn’t come up. There’s been so much else to deal with.”

“I heard. And I suspect there may have been more tragedy involved than was in the romantic fiction which reached my ears.”

“Kind of.” As the boat picked up speed, Silver hauled out a tried-and-true deflection. “Do you mind that I invited him?”

“I told you it was fine to bring a guest. I suspected we might be seeing him. Or perhaps your friend with the charming accent and car troubles.”

Marco would love this. Silver could picture him looking all around with wide eyes.

“Maybe. If there’s a next time.” Silver tried to not make it sound like a request by looking at the deck instead of Gavin.

“I would very much like for there to be a next time.” Gavin tapped Silver’s shoulder.

“Thanks.” Since Silver wanted as many yacht trips as he could get, keeping drama to a minimum would probably help. He got the idea Jamie was the possessive kind. “Your boyfriend keeps cranking his head to stare at us.”

“So he is, but I have great faith in his ability not to run us aground.”

Silver didn’t think anyone would ever have great faith in his ability to keep himself dry and fed for a month. He headed for Zeb, but Gavin’s soft call made Silver turn back.

“Silver, I certainly can’t claim any expertise in relationships, given that I am new to navigating one myself. But I am learning that should you find yourself in one, not only do they require some effort at negotiation, the rewards are worth it.” Gavin went up to the bridge to stand behind Jamie.

Eli was tucked between Quinn’s legs on a couch-like bench, leaning back against his chest, Quinn’s hand straying to the exposed flesh over Eli’s waistband. Zeb was in a seat near a sink and bar. Wondering if he was pissed at having been left alone made Silver’s stomach tighten as he sank into a seat opposite.

Being on a yacht was awesome and not something Silver had ever pictured in any coming attraction. But it did make you have to deal with the other people on board. No escape if something went sour. What had seemed hot in fantasies was not so much in practice.

“Something wrong?” Zeb asked.

“No. It’s fine. Great.”

Zeb put a hand across the small table between them, the arch in his brows saying he didn’t buy it.

Silver let his hand drop on Zeb’s for a split second. “What wouldn’t be great? Did you miss the part where we’re on a yacht?”

“Surrounded by water.”

“Are you aquaphobic?” Silver was damned pleased he pulled the word out of his head. He’d once studied the whole list of them for some school project. Ranidaphobia and gephyrophobia were his. Some nightmares had swarms of frogs trapping him on a bridge. He didn’t know why the lame stuff felt worse than the truly horrifying things that had happened. He should be more afraid of fifty-year-old guys with bad comb-overs and an aversion to hygiene.

“No.” Zeb opened his palm in invitation.

Silver’s hand was too damp to take him up on it.

“For someone who has a boat kink, you seem tense in the not-fun way,” Zeb added.

“It was pirates.”

A boat wasn’t the same as a bridge. Silver wasn’t trapped, they were going somewhere. And he was pretty sure the gleaming chrome and light varnished wood and white pleather didn’t hide any tadpole colonies.

As subtly as he could, he dried his hands on his cargo shorts. He’d felt so badass on the dock, making Zeb’s tongue hang out, the day full of sun and promise. Should have known it wouldn’t last.

They approached a big bridge. At the wheel, Gavin wrapped himself around Jamie from behind. God knew what Eli and Quinn were up to behind them. Eli didn’t exactly seem to have boundaries with that kind of stuff.

Silver slid his hand into Zeb’s as the bridge made a high roof overhead. Zeb curled their fingers into an interlocking spiral, a double fist resting on the table.

“You missed the grand tour. But I could be persuaded to recreate it privately.”

Silver cranked his head to see what looked like a door for hobbits that must have led below the deck. “How private?” He rubbed his thumb across the top of their fists. It would take the edge off and piss off Jamie, so bonus points there.

Zeb smiled and used their grip to lever himself up and around the table to share Silver’s side. “Galley, couches, and if people can manage in airplane bathrooms…”