Turkish Delights Series (20 page)

The sight of the yacht with its tall sails and gleaming wooden hull brought it all crashing back in on him. He shoved sunglasses on to hide tears and emerged from the back of the car. The driver brought his bag and drove away, leaving Caleb standing, facing the very boat he and Tarkan had spent their last happy days on together.
Christ. This is great
He rubbed a hand over his dry lips and tried to calm his pounding heart. The sun was baking hot. No one was in sight. If he bolted, would anyone notice?
What the hell am I supposed to do now?

***

Adem climbed up from the hull of the boat. It was hard not to take over the kitchen. But the current chef and captain kept pushing him out, gently reminding him that he was the client now, that this was a 1Night Stand event, and he needed to go meet his date. He laughed and took the steps two at a time. Determined to enjoy it, not to feel guilty about buying himself the good time he deserved, Adem looked up and saw the American Adonis that haunted his dreams. Ray Bans covered his eyes, and he appeared utterly dejected by the sight of the boat.

Weak kneed was a new sensation to him, but Adem gripped the ropes along the stairwell from the galley and tried not to gape. He cleared his throat and stepped out onto the hot asphalt, the four steps he needed to reach his dream date the longest he’d ever taken. Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades, but he squared his shoulders and smiled. The sad, beautiful smile that greeted him in return rolled over his heart like a wave.

“Hello, um, English okay?” The tall man held out a large hand. Adem noticed the distinct lack of the ring he’d watched him accept from the Turkish man on this very boat. Was it two or three years ago?

“Yes, it’s fine,” Adem croaked. “I can speak English, Turkish or French, if you prefer.”

“Oh, I’ll stick to English, thanks.”

The man’s soft blue dress shirt fit his torso like a glove. His jeans were worn, nice and tight, cupping his ass perfectly. Adem gulped. The memory of that cock he’d watched and dreamed about, encased in the denim within his reach, nearly overpowered him.

“Good, good.” Adem ran a hand through his long hair.
Damn, I should have gotten it cut.
This man probably preferred his dates a bit less…shaggy. “So, we can board if you like.” He gestured toward the boat, unsure what else to say.

The blond god spoke. “I’m Caleb, by the way. Caleb Blessing.”

Adem blushed. “Oh, sorry. Let’s start over.” He turned and stuck out his hand again. “I’m Adem. Adem Broussard.”

He watched as Caleb clenched his jaw.

“I know. I remember you.”

“Oh, well, then….” Adem didn’t understand the emotions flitting over the tall man’s face. When Caleb pulled his sunglasses off and rubbed his eyes, Adem would swear his fingers came away wet. He resisted the extreme urge to pull him into an embrace. Putting his hands in his pockets instead, he stood, letting the silence swirl around them.

“Well, let’s go, shall we?” the gorgeous, obviously unhappy man snapped, as he stomped toward the boat.

Adem’s gut clenched. This was not turning out like he’d hoped. Not at all.

***

Caleb took the few steps toward the boat. His feet dragged like lead weights. Sweat poured down his face, yet he was ice cold. He closed his eyes once before stepping over the side, trying to conjure Tarkan once more, but the image had disappeared. All he could see now was the slim Adem, his long hair flowing over his shoulders, his green eyes full of concern. When he stumbled once, a hand clutched his elbow.

“Thanks,” he muttered, unwilling to look at the smaller man, not ready to admit that his heart had sped up at the sight and memory of him.

“The, ah, bedroom….”Adem pointed down into the hull. “But I guess you….”

Caleb held down the groan that nearly escaped his lips. How could he get out of this? No way he could go into that bedroom. Adem’s body, so near his he could smell his light cologne, mixed with a bit of sea air and, oddly, olive oil made him warm all over. Made him forget for a split second the agony in his chest at the sight of the last bedroom where he’d slept with Tarkan. Caleb curled his hand around the suitcase handle in an effort not to drop it and yank the young man into his arms.

“Stop,” Adem said and put his hand over Caleb’s. “Let me take it. You stay up here. I’ll bring us a drink. Beer, right?”

He nodded, paralyzed with a combination of vivid memories and an adrenaline rush of sheer lust. He swallowed and watched Adem’s slim hips as he deposited his luggage and walked back up the steps. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a tight body free of hair. He had an easy grace about him, comfortable in his light brown skin. And his face was like something from central casting if the order called for exotic, vaguely ethnic, man/boy, perfect for…
oh, hell
. He sat heavily into a deck chair before the other man returned.

Adem put a hand on his shoulder, making Caleb’s entire body shiver in the heat of the day. His cock stirred and he covered it with the tail of his wrinkled, button down shirt.

“I’ll be right back. Are you hungry?”

“Uh, sure, fine. Whatever.” Caleb winced at the brusque sound of his own voice. Adem merely smiled, which made his amazing face light up. It was contagious and Caleb felt his mouth stretch into a grin.

“This is weird, huh?”

Caleb’s smile turned rueful. “You have no idea.” He spent a few minutes appreciating Adem’s retreating backside then the front view as he returned with a tray piled with cheeses, fruit, fresh bread, and a couple of sweaty bottles of
Efes
beer, from Turkey’s only real brewery. The crisp yellow lager soothed Caleb’s throat, and they sat in silence a moment.

Adem moved his chair closer to Caleb’s, startling him and bringing more movement under his zipper. God, but this guy was hot. What was it about Turkish men? He rubbed his eyes.
I can’t do this
. The hand on his knee made him flinch, but Adem kept it there and stared at him. The look on his face was searching and honest.

“I remember you, too, you know.” Caleb nodded, unable to formulate coherent words, pinned by the intensity of Adem’s gaze. “Where is…Tarkan, wasn’t it?”

Caleb gulped down the last of his beer. “Dead.”

Adem pulled back, as if stunned by Caleb’s flat declaration. “Oh, I didn’t know.”

“No reason you should know.” Caleb narrowed his eyes and watched complex emotions play over his date’s face. He didn’t require a ton of sympathy, not right now and hoped the man would sense it.

Adem took a piece of cheese from the tray and chewed it. Caleb swallowed hard at the sight of his lips, the tip of his tongue as he put the morsel inside. “I’m sorry,” the younger man said, simply. His head tilted as he observed Caleb observing him.

“Yeah, lots of people are.” Caleb set the beer down. A man appeared from nowhere and replaced it. Caleb smiled and looked up at Adem. “That was you, two years ago.”

Adem shrugged. “Yes. I worked these boats for eight years actually. Met a lot of people, mostly men.” He leaned in and put his elbows on his bare knees. Caleb’s eyes were drawn to the light dusting of dark hair on his calves. He was shocked when the man grabbed both of his hands across the small table. “I remember you, and him, very well. You were really nice to be around, would actually talk to me and not treat me like a piece of furniture.” Caleb’s whole body zinged at the touch of Adem’s lips to first one hand, then the other. “I hope this trip will help you heal.”

He took a deep breath then released him. Caleb almost lost it, nearly giving into the chemical attraction between them, but he sat back and sipped the fresh beer, allowing it to calm his rattled nerves. “Thanks, Adem. I…don’t know what kind of company I’ll be but….” He shrugged. Adem shot him an infectious grin again.

“Well, let’s get going anyway, shall we?” He shouted a few commands in Turkish and the dockworkers cast off, giving the boat a shove as the motor revved. Caleb felt the soft wind on his face and smelled the familiar combination of salt water, motor oil and faint hint of something exotic, exactly how he remembered Turkey. He sighed and leaned back, letting his eyes wander over the young man sitting across from him. His date. All his. His heart took a leap, breaking free for the first time in two years from its slow, barely-getting-by rhythm.

This could be scary, but maybe this is what I need
. As the hot air brushed over his face, he closed his eyes against the fading smile of the only man he’d ever loved.

***

They unfurled the sails, and the boat captain barked orders at them. Caleb did his level best to remember and keep up, but finally Adem laughed and told him to sit as he and the boat staff handle it all. He smiled at the relief on the tall man’s face. Attending to the sails, he shouted in victory when the wind finally caught them, filling them and pulling the boat southward. He turned to see how Caleb fared and was taken aback by the look of frank desire on the American’s face. He shivered, but stepped away.

This man had some healing to do still. Adem was not sure this was the right way to go about it. Although his cock was certainly eager to give it a try. He willed himself under control. They sailed for nearly two hours, sitting at arm’s length, talking about how he’d opened the restaurant of his dreams.

At one point, he felt something brush the hand he’d draped over the back of the long bench they shared. Glancing up, he saw Caleb’s hand barely touching his skin. He raised an eyebrow. Caleb actually blushed and removed it. Adem looked up to the bright blue sky and sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought.

He knew a light, careful tread was required with the man, but damned if he fought every second not to launch himself at him, wrap his body around Caleb’s, soothe him with his lips and tongue.
Ahhh, shit
. He rose, unable to control himself, and walked away, using the excuse of wanting to check on the ingredients for their dinner. He did not hide the bulge under his shorts though. What was the point of that?

Satisfied after about thirty minutes that he could walk around without grabbing himself, and that the fresh fish he’d requested was indeed seasoning in the block of salt, he returned. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of his date, the blond Adonis, stripped to a pair of very American-like surf shorts and nothing else. He was kneeling on the starboard bench, hands on his hips. The man’s broad shoulders were like something Adem would imagine on a shining Greek god—strong, the muscles under them rippling and subtle. His thick hair curled a bit at the ends. Adem clenched his fists in an effort to not run over, grab him, and lick the skin of his neck. Run his hands over the man’s tight ass. Dear Lord, but he was a vision.

He cleared his throat and Caleb turned. Adem was not really shocked to see tears on his face. His heart broke, remembering how much love those two seemed to share on this very boat. He took three long steps across the shiny wooden deck and let his body do the talking. Caleb’s skin tasted salty from the sea spray, and his torso was strong but somehow fragile in Adem’s embrace. He held him, their two bodies fitting together, molding into one.

Adem ran a hand down Caleb’s sweat-slicked back, stopping shy of his luscious ass. He couldn’t rush it, he knew. But Caleb remained still in his embrace. He put his arms around him, lay his head on Adem’s shoulder for a moment, before looking up and making him weak in the knees with his bright blue stare.

“I’m damaged goods,” he whispered. “I don’t know what you want out of this, but….”

Adem put a finger on Caleb’s full, kissable lips. “Shhh…enough. Don’t think too hard. Just, relax.” He made a decision then, one he hoped neither of them would regret. But no matter how much his body wanted to go further, no matter how painfully hard his cock was, no matter the equal reaction under Caleb’s shorts, he pulled away. He ran a finger down Caleb’s strong, stubble-rough jaw. “Why don’t you have another beer, hmm?”

Caleb nodded and sat, putting his bare feet up on the cushioned bench. Adem smiled. He’d done the right thing. They had time. Rushing into this wouldn’t be good for either of them.

Chapter Five

Caleb laughed so hard he got the hiccups at Adem’s adept descriptions of the many tourist types who graced his restaurant. The bossy, arrogant Germans; snooty, obnoxious French; wide-eyed, usually overweight Americans; wealthy Russian mobsters with a girlfriend on each arm; and his personal favorite, the English with their demands for “chips and tea.” He watched as the slim, lovely man sliced their fish out of the huge block of salt where it had essentially “cooked” for the day and sipped his crisp, Italian white wine.

He’d fallen asleep on the large bench in the bow after their first embrace, dreams of the sea, and of slender men with open, loving faces had eased his way. When he awoke, feeling more rested than he had in ages, his feet had been in Adem’s lap and the young man had been reading a French newspaper. Caleb had lain still a moment, taking him in, the casual hand he had resting on Caleb’s calf comforting and somehow familiar. They had docked in Bodrum, a classic Turkish tourist coast town with nightclubs, bed and breakfasts, and no end of carpet and silver merchants crowding the street.

Part of him was glad that Adem had backed away earlier, but after a good sleep, he acknowledged he would have happily thrown the kid down and fucked him hard, right then, if only to take his edge off. But he had an idea there was more happening here and needed time to absorb it. And he was that, a kid. Easily ten if not more years younger than Caleb. He had stared up at the darkening blue sky and thought of Elle and her constant arguments against her own relationship with Emre at first. She had been forty when they met, Emre twenty-five. They had worked out fine, mainly, Caleb reflected, because both Emre and his brother were old souls. He sighed at the fleeting thought of Tarkan and stretched. Adem had glanced up from his paper and smiled, patted Caleb’s leg and stood.