“Come on,” Cam said, tugging Gannon’s arm as they began walking up toward the shore. “You did good. I won’t torture you anymore.”

Gannon’s thoughts instantly drifted to that hand job Cam had given him. He’d take more of that torture any day of the week. Not to mention, he longed to return the favor.

After allowing the breeze to dry them off, they dressed and then made their way back to the marina office. Gannon thought Cam was going to send him on his way, so when he offered him a beer, he did his best to hide his surprise.

“Do you have to work in the morning?” Cam asked as they ascended a set of stairs on the side of the building.

“Took the weekend off,” he answered. “You’re working, though, right?”

“Bright and early,” Cam said.

When they reached the exterior door at the landing, Gannon asked, “Should I go?”

Cam turned to face him. “No. Not unless you want to.”

Meeting Cam’s gaze, Gannon smiled. “That’s the last thing I want to do.”

“Good.”

Gannon noticed Cam didn’t smile, but he didn’t get to ask him what was wrong because Cam turned, punched in a code on the electronic doorknob, and then they were inside. The second floor of the building seemed much bigger than the first. The exterior door opened to a hallway, which cut the floor in half, another door on the right and one on the left.

Cam moved to the door on the left, punching in another code, then opening it.

“It’s not much,” Cam said as they stepped inside. “But this is home.”

They were greeted by a loft-style apartment, the space completely open. High ceilings, exposed brick walls on three sides. Very Friends-like. Only without the bedrooms and the fire escape balcony.

On the far side of the room, there was a king-sized bed with rumpled sheets. Beside it was a nightstand with a clock and a lamp, nothing else. A short six-drawer chest sat beneath a window covered with sheer black curtains. Closest to the door, though, a brown leather sofa sat facing a large flat-screen television mounted on the wall. In the corner opposite the bed, a sheet of opaque glass separated the rest of the area from what Gannon could only assume was the bathroom. And in the other corner, a small kitchenette.

“This is nice,” Gannon said.

“Thanks.”

There wasn’t much in the space, but the things that were suited Cam’s personality. At least the way Gannon saw him. Thick-planked hardwood floors lay out beneath the heavy, masculine furniture. Decorations were minimal, but there were a few pictures on the wall, most of them of the lake and what looked to be Cam and his friends.

Gannon walked over to get a closer look at a collage of pictures that took up nearly one entire wall. “Is that you?”

“Yep.”

They were pictures of Cam doing various things—white-water rafting, hanging from a zip line with a brilliant smile on his face, snowboarding down a mountain—looking completely in his element.

Gannon peered over his shoulder at Cam.

“Have a seat,” Cam said, nodding toward the sofa as he headed toward the kitchen.

Looking back at the images once more, Gannon tried to imagine himself ever doing any of those things. He couldn’t.

Not wanting to think too hard on that, Gannon headed back across the room, dropping onto the plush leather sofa and relaxing back, still trying to take it all in.

“How long have you lived here?” he asked Cam.

“Going on eight years now. It took a couple of years for me to get the money to fix it up. There’s another apartment on the other side that mirrors this one.”

“Who lives there?”

“Roan.”

Gannon took the beer Cam offered.

“Living here…” Gannon began. “Does it make it hard separating your personal life from work?”

“My personal life is my work,” Cam said, tilting the bottle to his lips.

Gannon knew how that felt. His entire world was his company, but it wasn’t simply a job for him. He loved what he did, so he understood what Cam was saying.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Gannon realized it was late. Much later than he’d thought.

“I really should get going,” he said, sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees. “You’ve got work in the morning.”

Cam didn’t say anything, but Gannon could feel his eyes boring into him. Turning slightly, he met the heated gaze.

“Stay,” Cam finally said.

Gannon knew that was a bad idea. After what had happened at the lake, he wasn’t sure he could spend the night with Cam. Not if he wanted to keep taking things slow.

The cushion shifted, and Cam took the beer from Gannon’s hand, setting it on the coffee table, where he’d set his.

“I want you to stay,” Cam said softly as he moved over him, forcing Gannon back on the sofa. “And not because I want anything. Because I want to spend time with you.”

Sliding his hands along the firm muscle at Cam’s sides, he worked his fingers beneath the hem of Cam’s T-shirt, the warmth of his skin penetrating his fingertips, infusing his entire body with a blaze of heat.

Cam’s knee eased between Gannon’s legs, insistently pressing against his dick, which was quickly stirring to life as he stared up at the most beautiful man he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Let me see you,” Gannon whispered, working Cam’s shirt up and over his head.

Cam hovered above him, the muscles in his arms contracting as he held himself up. Once the shirt was out of the way, Gannon traced the tattoo across Cam’s chest with the tip of his finger, his gaze sliding up to meet Cam’s briefly before once again returning to take in the gorgeous body before him.

When Gannon tweaked the barbell piercing one of Cam’s nipples, Cam groaned.

“Do you like that?” Gannon asked, his voice rough with his own arousal. He noticed the line of Cam’s jaw as it tensed when Gannon applied more pressure to the steel bar.

“Fuck yes,” Cam said through clenched teeth.

“Does it hurt?”

“In a good way, yeah,” Cam muttered, eyes closed.

Gannon was tempted to put his mouth where his fingers were, but that choice was taken away from him when Cam draped his body over Gannon’s, his mouth coming down over Gannon’s.

Sliding his hands up to cradle Cam’s head, Gannon took control of the kiss, something he had already figured out that Cam wanted from him. Though he got the impression Cam was a switch, Gannon wasn’t. Not usually, anyway. He’d bottomed a couple of times, sure. It hadn’t been a bad experience, but he still preferred to be the one in control. Naturally, he was a top, and he longed to have Cam right where he wanted him.

But this worked for now. He certainly had no intention of rushing things, even if he wanted to repay Cam for the hand job from earlier. Truth was, he wanted to taste every inch of Cam’s skin, to run his tongue over those tattoos, along the smooth lines of every muscle.

The kiss was pure bliss. Gannon focused on Cam’s mouth, nipping his lip, sliding his tongue against the barbell that pierced Cam’s tongue. When Cam began grinding his cock against Gannon’s thigh, he encouraged him by adding friction, shifting his leg.

Cam groaned.

“Look at me,” Gannon said, pulling back from Cam so he could see his face.

Cam’s eyes opened, heavy-lidded as they stared down at him.

“Ride my leg,” Gannon instructed. “I wanna watch you come apart.”

Cam didn’t slow, didn’t appear at all embarrassed to be dry humping Gannon’s leg. Not that he should’ve been, because quite frankly, it was probably the hottest thing Gannon had seen in his entire life. Every muscle in Cam’s upper body flexed and shifted as he rocked his hips, grinding his cock against Gannon’s leg.

Watching Cam was a pleasure he’d never tire of.

Gently brushing his fingers along Cam’s ribs, he felt the shudder that tore through Cam’s body as he continued to pump his hips, the thick, steely length of Cam’s erection pressing into Gannon’s thigh.