Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Liam

I t was several hours before Liam made his way back towards the cabins, loaded down with food from Mum because Ambrose had missed dinner. Mum's attitude towards Ambrose had softened a lot after he'd ‘rescued' Balian, and it helped that she was delighted with the prospect of helping to organise an October wedding. It took Liam a minute to remember that Mum liking Ambrose was the opposite of what they'd planned, and that he was meant to be all wrong for Liam. They'd probably have to work on that. The thought of Ambrose parading himself as a poor choice made Liam's gut squirm uncomfortably for reasons he didn't really want to think about right now, so he thought about Neve's fiancé instead, which didn't actually make the squirming go away.

Marcus was…

Well, Liam didn't know how he felt about Marcus. He firstly didn't understand why it had taken an engagement to meet him. Neve had explained that Marcus's work kept him very busy, and Liam understood busy, okay? But he also understood family, and he was pretty sure missing your own engagement announcement was taking the piss. Then, over an early dinner of sandwiches and salad, Marcus had said, " You live in Potts Point, right? In Byron Hall ?"

" That's right ," Liam had said.

" Neve, sweetheart ," Marcus had said, " instead of looking for a place together, we should move into your family's flat ."

Liam had blinked. " It's not the family's flat. It's Grandad's flat ."

Neve had laughed. " I already told you we can't do that, Marcus. Liam lives there, and the spare room in the flat will be for Riley if she goes to Sydney for uni ."

Yeah, that too, but it was Grandad's flat. He'd let all of them use it for uni because what was the point of it just sitting there otherwise? But they were expected to get their own places after graduation, not just assume they could go on living there rent-free.

Liam trudged unhappily through the rain, holding his umbrella tightly in one hand and the straps of the bag digging into the fingers of his other. He didn't like Marcus. He didn't feel right, as though he didn't fit. Even Orhan, who'd once been shy and polite before the Connellys got their hands on him, had seemed to fit from the start. Hell, Ambrose fitted, and he wasn't even meant to. But Marcus? He had edges that didn't slot in with the rest of the family, let alone with what Liam thought he knew about Neve, and those edges grated.

He stepped up onto the porch of the cabin. The door was ajar, propped open with a shoe. Liam rolled his eyes and pushed the door open with his shoulder, kicking the shoe out of the way when he nearly tripped over it as he stepped inside.

Ambrose was curled up on the bed, hugging a pillow and snoring softly.

Liam moved past him silently into the little kitchen area and began to unpack the snacks. He wasn't as quiet as he'd hoped—by the time he glanced at Ambrose again, Ambrose was yawning and stretching awake.

"Hey," he said, his voice sounding muzzy with sleep.

"Brought you some food," Liam said.

Ambrose sat up, blinking, and smiled slowly. "Yeah?"

"Sandwiches, mostly," Liam said. "I didn't know what you liked, so I got some roast beef and chutney, some pulled pork and coleslaw, and some chicken and avocado."

"Those sound fancy," Ambrose said, and yawned.

"They're pretty good," Liam agreed. "Hey, why were you sleeping with the door open?"

"Oh," Ambrose said. "Don't move the shoe! The key snapped off in the lock, and?—"

A sudden blast of wind blew the door shut.

"And I didn't want that to happen," Ambrose said.

"I'm sure it's fine," Liam replied. "It won't have locked or anything." He crossed to the door. He jiggled the handle, and it didn't turn. He tugged it, and the door didn't shift. "Oh."

Ambrose looked vaguely apologetic. "I propped it open because the sticky-out bit was sticking out when it snapped, and I thought it might lock."

"Tongue?"

"Maybe later." Ambrose grinned and reached for his phone on the nightstand. "Your parents will have a spare key though, right? They can come and rescue us. What's their number?"

"I honestly don't know," Liam said. "We'll have to look it up."

"Yeah," Ambrose said, and frowned at his phone before tossing it on the bed. "And my battery's dead. You'll have to look it up. "

"I can…" Liam felt the pockets of his jeans. Then his front shirt pocket. Then the pockets of his jeans again. "I…"

Ambrose's eyes widened. "Don't say it! Don't you fucking say it, Liam!"

Liam squeezed his eyes shut. "I left my phone at the house." He heard an odd strangled sound, and opened his eyes to find Ambrose contorted on the bed with laughter. "This isn't funny!"

"It's hilarious!" Ambrose said, red in the face. "It's fine! It's fine! I'll get my charger." He rolled off the bed and crouched down beside his overnight back. He rifled through it, stopped, then rifled through it again. "Uh…"

"Is this where I tell you not to say it?" Liam asked.

"Okay, so the good news is I know exactly where my phone charger is," Ambrose said. He stood up and winced. "The bad news is, it's in Sydney."

"You're kidding, right?"

"I'm not! I swear!" Ambrose made that strangled sound again—the one that was trying hard not to be a giggle. "But your charger's here, right?"

"Oh!' Liam grabbed the end of the cable off his bedside table. "Do you have an iPhone?"

Ambrose's face fell. "I'm sorry, I have to leave you. This can never work out. I'm an Android boy."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah," Ambrose said. "I like their operating system. I find it more user friendly, though I am well aware I'm in a minority on that account. Also, who wants to drop thousands of dollars on a new phone?"

"Not about that! God, are you serious that my plug won't fit your socket?"

Ambrose raised an eyebrow. "In the interests of you not strangling me right now, I'm choosing not to say what I'm thinking. But you should know I'm thinking it really, really, hard."

"Shit," Liam said, and dragged his fingers through his hair. "Are you laughing? Stop laughing! It's not funny!"

Ambrose did not stop laughing. "It is funny, though! We're trapped, and there's only one bed! But hey, at least we have sandwiches! Besides, someone will come looking for us when we don't turn up for dinner, right?"

Liam wrinkled his nose.

"Right?" Ambrose prompted again, raising his eyebrows.

"Mum might have told me to bring the sandwiches since you already missed dinner with the family," Liam admitted, "and she thought we'd like some alone time. It's supposed to be a romantic weekend, after all."

Ambrose sagged back down onto the mattress, still grinning. "Shit. This is suddenly a lot less entertaining. It's still pretty entertaining, but now it's less entertaining." He tilted his head as if he were thinking and said, "We could break the glass panels in the door?"

"We're not breaking the glass panels! The panes are too narrow to get through, and we'll have fucked the entire door. Grandad will go spare."

Ambrose walked over to the window and tried to open it, but it remained stubbornly closed. "It's locked." He raised an eyebrow. "I guess breaking the glass is out of the question?"

Liam gave Ambrose a flat look. "We're not breaking anything."

Ambrose shrugged. "Well then, we're stuck here till they rescue us. At least we have sandwiches. Liam, can you get me a sandwich?"

"Are your legs painted on?" Liam asked him.

Ambrose grinned. "Excuse you. I saved your adorable nephew from a deadly snake attack this morning. Look at my skinned knee. Look at it!"

"You're such a martyr," Liam said, and rolled his eyes. But he went and grabbed the sandwiches. When he came back, Ambrose was sitting cross-legged on the bed, patting the doona beside him.

Liam climbed up with him and opened the bag. "Okay, we've also got some sparkling apple juice in here."

"I'll get the glasses!" Ambrose said, scrambling off the bed.

"Oh, your legs are fine now, are they?"

"It comes and goes." Ambrose danced back with the glasses, his eyes shining. He also grabbed the remote control for the TV. "Movie picnic?"

"Is that a thing?"

"It is if we say it is," Ambrose declared. He got back onto the bed and held the glasses out so that Liam could pour. Then he handed Liam's glass to him and dug through the bag. "Wow. Your family goes all out, doesn't it? Before you said they were so fancy, I figured it'd be Vegemite or something."

Liam made a face.

"What?"

"Family joke. I never used to like Vegemite."

Ambrose blinked at him. "Who doesn't like Vegemite?"

"Most of the world, actually. An anti-Vegemite stance happens to be incredibly valid." He shrugged. "But I like it now." He smiled. "For a while there, Mum tried to go gourmet and she figured since it went well with cheese it'd go great with brie, but we soon talked her out of that madness."

"Oh, you shouldn't even try to go gourmet with Vegemite," Ambrose agreed. "Vegemite on cheap white bread is the only way to go. It's a bogan staple."

"And student food," Liam agreed. "Unless you're a student running a scam where you go to fancy restaurants and are a dick over seafood."

Ambrose grinned as he bit into a sandwich. "For the record," he said around a mouthful, "that was a top-notch seafood platter. Five stars. Would recommend. Certainly some of the finest I've ever eaten in all of Sydney"—he paused before adding—"plus, the waiter was cute."

Liam snorted, feeling his face heat up. "He thought you were pretty cute too. Until you opened your mouth."

Ambrose's mouth dropped open. "Rude! I'll have you know I was Kelly's dream date!"

"Nightmare, you mean," Liam said, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. "But, to your credit, I guess, her and Greg seem to be going strong."

"He's a good bloke," Ambrose said. "And they're cute together. I wonder, if they ever get married, if they'll invite me to the wedding."

"I think if Kelly's dad ever saw you again, he'd murder you," Liam said frankly.

Ambrose got a faraway look on his face. "I do sometimes wonder if my dates ever come clean. If they're like, ‘Hey, remember that awful guy I dated? Guess what? He's actually an okay guy'." He shook himself and snorted. "But probably not, right?"

"Probably not," Liam agreed softly, wondering if he'd ever tell his parents the truth and wishing that he weren't contributing to a growing number of people who would only ever think of Ambrose and shudder at the memory. The fact that Ambrose had brought it up, the fact that he wondered about it at all, that surely meant that on some level it mattered to him.

"Ah well, like Mum always told me, never read your reviews," Ambrose said, and there was something wistful about the way he said it that made Liam suspect it bothered Ambrose a lot more than he was willing to let on.

Liam leaned closer so he could knock their shoulders together. "Well if it's any consolation, you're doing an absolutely shit job of making my family hate you. I think Mum wants to adopt you after you rescued Balian from the skink, and Grandad's asking what your plans are for Christmas."

Ambrose sighed and his brow furrowed. "It's hard, with your family. They're all so nice. Upsetting them's like, I dunno. I'd say kicking a puppy, but Grandad's more of a pit bull under all that Irish charm, isn't he?" Ambrose gave himself a shake. "Anyway, my point is, I'm very good at my job. It's just that your family likes to think the best of people, which is very inconsiderate of them in this case. Totally unprofessional."

"Oh, they're total monsters," Liam said. "Awful. How dare they have faith in human nature? Utter bastards, the lot of them."

Ambrose stared at him for a second, then said, "Where were we going with this again? I've forgotten."

Liam grinned and grabbed another sandwich. "I think we were going for you're not awful," he said. "Annoying, but not the worst."

"And don't forget hot," Ambrose said, and grinned back. He took a sip of his apple juice and brightened. "You know what would be awesome?"

"A spare key?"

"No, the hot tub!" Ambrose bounced on the edge of the bed excitedly. "Soaking in the almost-outdoors, drinking apple juice like it's champagne because hot tubs and booze don't mix, listening to the rain on the roof and pretending we're rich people!" He wrinkled his nose. "Well, I'll be pretending I'm a rich person. You just do whatever you normally do. "

"I'm not rich!" Liam protested.

"He says, in the honeymoon cottage at his family's vineyard, while on holiday from his million-dollar flat in Potts Point," Ambrose said. "Just your average student."

Liam flushed. "I don't think about it like that. This is a working property. Mum and Dad slog their guts out to make it profitable. And the flat's Grandad's."

Ambrose bit his lip. "I was kidding," he said quietly. "It's what I do. Your family's pretty great. And you're not, like, always talking about what you own or what you want to own, or bragging about how much things cost. I've met guys like that before. The ones who like legit don't understand how you sometimes have to walk places or jump the barriers because you didn't have any money to put on your Opal card this month, or you're scrounging for this month's rent. It just doesn't compute in their brains, you know?"

"I try not to be one of those guys," Liam said. "I know how lucky I am."

"You're not," Ambrose said. He wrapped the leftover half of his sandwich up and slid it back into the bag. "You're not one of those guys at all."

They were sitting so close that Liam could feel the heat of his body.

Ambrose nudged him and grinned. "Now let's go get in that hot tub!"

Ambrose was a genius, Liam decided. He leaned his head back against the headrest of the hot tub, listening to the rain falling, and raised his glass in a vague toasting motion. "You were right. This is brilliant."

"Told you." Ambrose grinned, returning the toast before pressing the button that fired up the bubbles. "If we're gonna be locked in together in the honeymoon suite, we might as well use all the bells and whistles."

Liam thought of the basket with lube and condoms and the slim vibrator and was quietly thankful that he was already pink from the hot water, or else there would have been no hiding his blush. It was bad enough that Ambrose was sitting across from him wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs in place of bathers, hair wet and tousled, cheeks pink, dimples on display. The last thing he needed to be thinking about was vibrators right now. And, specifically, the look on Ambrose's face as he came with one inside him. No, Jesus, he definitely didn't need to think about that.

Night had fallen, and it was dark outside. Liam couldn't see anything through the floor-to-ceiling glass—perfect for hot tubbing in the freezing winter months, probably, but not so great, it turned out, if you needed to escape the cabin and couldn't use the door—apart from their own hazy reflection. He supposed they could always break the glass, and there was a tiny emergency hammer stuck to the wall that must have been there for that reason, but he couldn't imagine his parents would be impressed if he'd caused hundreds of dollars' worth of damage when it wasn't technically an emergency. And there were worse things than being stuck in a hot tub with Ambrose. Liam couldn't hear anything over the bubbling of the hot tub and the sound of the rain thrumming on the tin roof. If he wanted to imagine it, the entire world might have stopped existing, except for him and Ambrose.

Ambrose leaned back, spreading his arms out along the side of the hot tub. His skin gleamed with moisture. A drop of water slid down the planes of his torso, between his pecs and the smattering of chest hair there, and Liam's gaze followed it. Ambrose grinned, that same lazy grin that Liam was becoming addicted to. "This is so nice."

"Yeah," Liam said, his voice rasping. He didn't know if Ambrose was even aware of the picture he was presenting, or if he knew it and was just being a tease. "You…you work out, right?"

Jesus. Could he sound more awkward if he tried?

Ambrose's grin grew, and he bent his arm and flexed his biceps. "You like these guns?"

Liam liked the entire armoury, actually.

Ambrose wrinkled his nose. "I don't really work out. Like, I lift weights about once a week because I have a mate who lets me sneak into the gym he works at when he's on shift. But I run a bit too, and I used to surf."

"Yeah, I remember thinking you must be a runner, to get away from people trying to punch you in the face," Liam admitted.

"Ha!" Ambrose's eyes danced. "I mean, it's mostly for work. You have to have a look for TV, you know? Nobody cares if the leading guy on stage looks like a regular person, but TV? You'd better have abs if you wanna get a part in Home and Away . It's bullshit, but that's the way it is. I was a pretty scrawny kid growing up, so I've had to work on it a bit." He shrugged. "Not that I'm booking any gigs right now, but I figure my chances are better if I look the part."

Liam cleared his throat. "Well I think you look, um, fine. Muscular." He glanced down at himself. "Better than I do, anyway."

"Nah," Ambrose said. He swiped his tongue quickly along his bottom lip as he dropped his gaze to Liam's chest. "You're tall. Little bit lanky. Face like an angel. It's fucking hot ."

Liam's eyes widened. "What?"

Ambrose leaned forward. "You're cute, Liam. And you have a brain. And you're decent. That's a pretty fucking rare combination, you know?"

"Careful," Liam said, his heart in his throat, "or I'll think you actually like me."

Ambrose tilted his head to one side, considering. Then he caught Liam's gaze and held it. "Maybe I do."

There was a moment of fraught silence while he likes you, he likes you, he likes you echoed through Liam's brain like a klaxon, then Liam was surging forward towards Ambrose, his actions driven by a single thought— Fuck it.

Ambrose must have had a similar thought process because he met Liam in the middle of the hot tub in a tangle of limbs. Liam copped an elbow to the chin, and he laughed it off, because Ambrose liked him. Then they were kissing, knees slipping on the floor of the hot tub, fingers sliding over wet skin. It was messy and awkward, and they would probably drown, but at the same time it was the most incredible kiss Liam had ever experienced.

Ambrose's lips were just as ridiculously soft as Liam had imagined them to be, and he kissed like he was born for it. The muscles in his back were firm under Liam's hands as he wrapped his arms around Ambrose and clung like a limpet—partly to pull him closer, and partly to steady himself so they didn't go arse over teakettle in the tub.

It had been too long since Liam had gotten to enjoy the feel of bare skin against his, and he wasn't going to spoil it by thinking too hard about it. Instead, he closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the sensations of a tongue sliding into his mouth and a hand tangling in his hair as they kissed some more.

When they finally pulled apart, Liam opened his eyes to find Ambrose staring at him with something like awe. Then his trademark grin appeared, and he said, "So. Wanna take this somewhere less hazardous? "

Liam nodded like a bobblehead, slightly breathless, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that this was actually happening. Ambrose leaned in and stole another quick kiss before scrambling to his feet, which meant Liam was face to face with the obvious bulge in Ambrose's clingy, almost see-through boxer briefs. Every curve, every contour was highlighted by the wet fabric, to the point that Liam could tell Ambrose was uncut, and Liam had the fleeting thought that if Ambrose had wanted to do porn, he was definitely built for it.

"Oh," Liam said. "Wow. That's…yeah. Impressive." His own cock, which had already been taking an interest, perked up even further as he imagined getting his hands—or maybe his mouth—on all that.

Ambrose let out a soft laugh. "The one muscle I didn't get from a gym"—he raised his eyebrows—"but also the one I work out the most, if I'm honest." He made a crude hand gesture and grinned. "These days, it's mainly at-home workouts, though."

Liam snorted, more pleased at the thought that Ambrose didn't do this often than he had any right to be, and carefully climbed to his feet. Ambrose didn't even try to hide the way he looked Liam up and down, his gaze lingering on Liam's own wet underwear. Liam felt his face warm up and fought the urge to cover himself. His self-doubt faded when Ambrose nodded and said, "Fuck, you're pretty all over, aren't you?" He leaned in for another kiss.

Liam could have happily stayed there enjoying Ambrose and his magic mouth—and that was a porn title if ever he'd heard one—for hours or days or years, except it quickly became uncomfortable standing up to his knees in hot water while the rest of him was a fraction too cool, and Ambrose obviously felt the same because he pulled back and stepped out of the tub, throwing Liam a towel and grabbing one for himself.

They scurried from the patio into the bedroom where it was warmer and dried themselves haphazardly, Liam taking the opportunity to appreciate the play of Ambrose's muscles under his skin when he moved, the way the light glistened off the droplets of water caught in his chest hair. Ambrose caught him looking of course and grinned widely before hooking his thumbs in the elastic of his underwear and pushing it down his thighs.

Liam's towel hit the floor at about the same time his jaw did, because Ambrose was a work of fucking art. It was as if God himself had looked at a perfect Grecian statue of a man and said, "I can do one better," and the result had been Ambrose. Also, unlike a classical sculpture, his dick was more than proportionate, and rather than cold marble, it was warm flesh, slapping against Ambrose's belly with every step he took towards Liam.

Liam shook himself out of his hotness-induced daze, and taking a deep breath, pushed his own wet briefs down, screwing up his nose at the drag of clammy fabric against his thighs. He kicked the underwear away, and he didn't have a chance to be self-conscious because Ambrose was right there, gripping his face in his palms, murmuring, "So fucking gorgeous, Li." He kissed him again, moving a hand down to his arse and squeezing lightly.

"Same," Liam agreed, breathless. Ambrose's dick was pressed against his, a solid line of heat, and he ground up against it instinctively, chasing that delicious friction, his arousal building frighteningly fast. He wondered if Ambrose would judge him if he came just like this.

Ambrose shuddered and pulled away, but it was only to dart over to the open basket on the table and grab a bottle of lube. Then he was back, leading Liam by the hand over to the bed.

"What do you…?" Liam could barely push the words out. "How do you want to do this?"

"Don't care," Ambrose said, leaning in to nip at Liam's bottom lip. His eyes were wide. "I'm about ready to blow anyway."

Liam didn't know where he found the breath to laugh. "Same."

Ambrose pushed Liam onto the bed and climbed up with him, straddling his thighs for a moment as he struggled to open the lube. Then he squeezed it too hard—"Oh, shit!"—and Liam laughed as a huge glob of it landed on his chest and the smell of fake strawberry flooded the room.

"Well," said Ambrose, scooping it up with his fingers, "waste not, want not." He curled his fingers around Liam's dick, and Liam almost jack-knifed off the bed.

A moment later they were kissing again, one of Ambrose's legs wedged between Liam's thighs. They rocked against each other, skin hot and slick. Liam tilted his hips to line their bodies up better and moaned when Ambrose's dick slid against his in the tight space they'd created. The wet sounds their bodies made rubbing together were filthy and amazing at the same time, and Liam rocked with more urgency, the slip-slide of flesh on flesh unbearably good.

"Fuck," Ambrose muttered, burying his face in the curve of Liam's throat, panting, his five o'clock shadow rasping against the tender skin. The roll of his hips sped up, and Liam matched his pace as his balls tingled and his cock throbbed. He rutted against Ambrose shamelessly, the need in his belly coiling tighter. Ambrose slipped a hand between them and wrapped a wide palm around both of their dicks, giving urgent little tugs, and it was the heat of his touch that had Liam arching his back and choking on air. His orgasm hit him hard, and he let out a whine as he came, his dick pulsing in Ambrose's grasp.

Ambrose grunted and his body jerked as well, and Liam felt warmth on his stomach as Ambrose added to the mess there, stroking them both gently through it before stilling. He laughed softly, his breath warm against Liam's throat. "Wow."

"Wow," Liam echoed, tracing patterns across Ambrose's back as he blinked up at the ceiling and wondered what, exactly, happened now.