Closing the Loop

By Jane Davitt

A week on a tropical gay cruise is just what Lee needs after a bad breakup and a Canadian winter. It’s a shame his ex is on board, but Lee is sharing a cabin with Cole, a hot lawyer who—as luck would have it—is actually from Lee’s city. So when Cole unexpectedly awakens Lee’s kinky side, Lee begins to dream that they can actually take their shipboard romance home with them.

But Cole is keeping secrets involving a troubled young man on board the ship. And Lee, after his recent brush with betrayal, finds it difficult to trust Cole when he says Justin isn’t a rival.

Then he learns the truth and is also drawn into the tragic story. His dream vacation is in danger of turning dark, but he’s determined to navigate Cole and himself to a safe harbor before their blisteringly hot romance is lost at sea.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Riptide Publishing
• Release date: May 25, 2015
• ISBN: 9781626492813

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Riptide Publishing

PO Box 6652

Hillsborough, NJ 08844

www.riptidepublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Closing the Loop

Copyright © 2015 by Jane Davitt

Smashwords Edition

Cover art: L.C. Chase, lcchase.com/design.htm

Editor: Delphine Dryden

Layout: L.C. Chase, lcchase.com/design.htm

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Riptide Publishing at the mailing address above, at Riptidepublishing.com, or at [e-mail].

ISBN: 978-1-62649-281-3

First edition

May, 2015

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A week on a tropical gay cruise is just what Lee needs after a bad breakup and a Canadian winter. It’s a shame his ex is on board, but Lee is sharing a cabin with Cole, a hot lawyer who—as luck would have it—is actually from Lee’s city. So when Cole unexpectedly awakens Lee’s kinky side, Lee begins to dream that they can actually take their shipboard romance home with them.

But Cole is keeping secrets involving a troubled young man on board the ship. And Lee, after his recent brush with betrayal, finds it difficult to trust Cole when he says Justin isn’t a rival.

Then he learns the truth and is also drawn into the tragic story. His dream vacation is in danger of turning dark, but he’s determined to navigate Cole and himself to a safe harbor before their blisteringly hot romance is lost at sea.

A closed loop voyage occurs when a vessel departs from a port and returns to the same port upon completion of the voyage.

About Closing the Loop

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Dear Reader

Also by Jane Davitt

About the Author

More like this

Lee adjusted his tray of paperclips. It made a change from staring at the door of the travel agency and willing someone to walk in. A change, not an improvement. Even in late January, Fridays were usually busy, but a winter storm had covered Southern Ontario with eight inches of wet snow that lay heavy as fruitcake. The center of Mississauga was never empty of people, but everyone walking by had their heads down against the snow-laden wind, oblivious to the lit window of Globe Travel. Lee’s coworker Katy had called in sick and the manager was at a conference, leaving him bored and lonely.

Come in, he urged the passersby silently. Book a vacation. Get away from this endless fucking winter.

He was doing that soon. The thought cheered him. Two weeks and he’d be flying to Fort Lauderdale and getting onto a cruise ship for a week of partying with Ryan at his side. Or on top of him. Or under him. Any position but overboard.

Gay cruises. Whoever invented them deserved a rainbow-shaped medal.

This would be his first, though he’d sent hundreds of people away on them in his five years at the agency. They weren’t cheap, though, and it’d taken a windfall in the shape of a scratch card win of ten thousand dollars to make it possible. He’d treated himself to the card on an impulse while paying for gas in the fall and walked around in a rosy glow for days afterward.

Found money should be enjoyed, and the Valentine cruise on the Amarillo was the perfect destination for those thousands of dollars. The ship would set sail from Florida and out to a sun-bathed Caribbean, stopping at islands with white sand beaches and vibrant towns, surging through turquoise waters with majestic ease.

The ship was huge, a floating luxury hotel with gorgeous, scantily clad men in abundance if the website was to be trusted. Lee was cynical enough to assume most of the passengers would be like him: average looking, in need of toning up after the excesses of the festive season, and if they were fellow Canucks, sunlight-deprived. He didn’t care. Ryan was the only man he’d be staring at. Ryan, who’d been too broke to contribute to the suite Lee had booked, but who’d promised to save in the six months before they sailed.

I don’t want to sponge off you, he’d said, dark-blue eyes sincere. I’ll pay for the extras. They mount up. Bar bills, wi-fi, meals ashore. They’re on me, all of them.

Not all of them, Lee had protested, but, yeah, it’d be great if you could chip in a bit. God, should we be doing this? We could put it toward a down payment on a house.

It’s nowhere near enough, and you said it yourself: it’s free money. A gift from the gods. Don’t waste it on bills and boring crap. Live a little. Ryan had pointed at Lee’s laptop. Look at that room. Private balcony! Don’t tell me you don’t want to bend me over the rail and fuck me while we watch the sun go down. Or me go down if you like that idea better.

Ryan always topped and claimed blowjobs made him nauseous—giving, not getting—but Lee had grinned and gone along with the fantasy. After trading increasingly impossible scenarios, they’d gotten so into it that Lee ended up with his knees rubbed red courtesy of the rug in front of the couch. Rug burns faded. His ass had taken a full three days to recover. Ryan had been in too much of a hurry to find the lube, and if the condom had protected his cock from chafing, it hadn’t helped Lee’s asshole much.

Lost as he was in hazy fantasies, the jingle of the bell over the door startled him. With his cock at half-mast in keeping with the nautical flavor of his daydreams, he stayed seated instead of rising to greet the customer. He compensated by making his welcoming smile as warm as possible.

It wasn’t difficult. The guy was hot. Older than he was by a few years and—judging by the tailored suit under a cashmere overcoat—with more in his piggy bank than air. But a cat could look at a king.

Lee looked his fill. Tall. Wide shoulders and a trim frame, long legs and hands in—oh God, black leather gloves. Total kink of his. Skin over skin and touching his skin . . . Bareheaded and hair cut so close to the skull that, at first glance, Lee had taken him to be bald. Dark skin, smooth over sharp cheekbones, good-looking enough that the tiny mole at the end of his left eyebrow came as a relief from perfection.

He could look, but staring was rude. And verged on disloyal to Ryan.

The man dropped his gaze to the nameplate on Lee’s desk, kept shiny by Lee because he got a kick out of seeing it gleam. Mr. Jones. Good morning. I’d like to book a cruise through your company.

Huh. English, not Canadian. Lee had roomed with a Brit at college and gotten used to Simon’s accent. He’d called it cute once, and Simon had snickered.

"Mate, I’m from Dudley. People twenty miles down the road can’t understand a word I say, my accent’s that thick. Don’t tell me: all us Brits sound the same? Take it from me, for a place you could lose in Southern Ontario, we’ve got more accents than Tim Hortons has donuts. And mine isn’t one of the cute ones."

He’d sounded proud of that.

A cruise? Lee caught himself before he added On a ship? and lost all semblance of credibility as a travel agent. Great idea. Anywhere but here, eh? Take a seat and we’ll start the process. Mindful of the whirling snow outside and the melting flakes on the man’s head and shoulders, he asked, Can I get you a coffee?

Thanks, but I’m at my limit for the day. A smile broke up the severity of the man’s features, warming his brown eyes. Over three cups and I twitch.

Lee’s capacity to drink coffee was limited by how fast he could swallow, but he smiled back. That’s my reaction if they take the coffee away. Can I get your name?

Cole. Joseph Cole.

Lee nodded, filing it away. Did you have a specific cruise or destination in mind, Mr. Cole?

"Yes, I do. The ship’s the Amarillo and she sails from Florida on—"

February the tenth. God, what were the odds? He tried to fit Mr. Cole into one of the online photos of the cruise ship and flinched. No one wore anything but Speedos and a smile in those, and this man seemed born to wear a bespoke suit and nothing else. Stripping him down, even mentally, seemed disrespectful.

That got him raised eyebrows and a tilt of the head in acknowledgment. Impressive memory for details you have there. You must deal with dozens of cruises.

Honesty compelled him to confess. Not really. Well, I guess I do—hundreds, in fact—but I’m sailing on that ship too. He cleared his throat, heat burning his cheeks. Better get it out there just in case. It’s a gay cruise. Not only for men, but . . .

I’m aware. Cole raised an eyebrow. Do I need to pass a test to prove I qualify?

Lee choked over nothing more than spit swallowed wrong and his active imagination. He pictured Cole gravely completing a questionnaire about his favorite position and views on flavored condoms or heated lube and willed his blush to subside. Not at all. No. But that cruise is fully booked. Has been for a few weeks now. I can get you on the next one, or suggest alternatives sailing on those dates.

It has to be that ship and those dates, I’m afraid. Cole tapped long fingers against his thigh. I assume there’s a possibility someone will cancel?

Sure, and I can get you on a wait-list, but don’t —

Don’t get my hopes up? Cole shrugged. I promise I won’t hold you to blame if it sails without me.

Yeah, well. Lee shuffled papers on his desk with no idea of what he was doing, mixing in flyers for Muskoka cottages with memos about new guidelines for airport security. I’ll see if I can pull some strings.

I’d appreciate it.

The sincerity wrapped around the words stayed with him while he dealt with the details of the provisional booking, and made his efforts to push Cole higher up the list worth the effort. But later, having done what he could, he did his best to forget the man. It didn’t seem right to go home to Ryan with even a residual yearning for someone else. Not that Ryan would