Chapter 71

But I was famished. I’d scarcely eaten all day; had swum hard and barfed up what little I did have in me, then slept through lunch. And my having dinner with Joaquin was Colin’s idea. It’s not like me and Colin had ever been exclusive—he got all the Joaquin he wanted.

In which frame of mind I let Joaquin’s pants charm me off the dock. They fit his hips perfectly, implying an ass, and highlighted what he did have by hugging his long thighs, flaring ever so subtly just where they dusted his ankles. The powdery pastel purple was feminizing in a way that only a man profoundly at ease with his masculinity could pull off, the linen of a quality that—you know what, fuck it. He looked hot, I was hungry, I got in the damn boat. Colin would have pushed me off the dock for a chance to do the same, so I wasn’t going to worry about it.