By Quarry Lake by Josephine Myles Page A

fetching wire to mend the
top fences, but he’d do that this evening instead. Just so long as
his father didn’t catch him swimming...
    But he
wouldn’t. His father considered that part of their land worthless
for farming and took no further interest in the woods or the river.
Or the secret lake.
    The water would
be icy, easing the itchy heat prickling all over his body. Rob
grinned and broke into a slow jog. It was too hot for running, but
definitely not too hot to swim.
    He entered the
woods at the bottom of the hill, slowing down a little to enjoy the
relative cool of the shade. But Lex shot ahead, and her enthusiasm
was contagious. Rob pounded after her with a whoop on his lips.
    He burst out of
the trees into the open clearing by the lake. The deep waters of
the small pool reflected the quarry wall towering behind and the
unbroken blue of the sky.
    And there,
standing on top of the cliff was a naked man, poised to dive.
    Before the
warning shout could leave Rob’s lips the figure jumped. But no,
jumping wasn’t the right word. He flew through the air like a bird,
flipping over in an impossibly graceful arc. And by then it was too
late to call. Anything that broke the diver’s concentration could
be dangerous. There were boulders underwater waiting to ambush the
unwary, but the diver had aimed himself for the deepest point. He’d
be okay.
    Rob let out the
breath he’d been holding, his shoulders relaxing down. The man
breached the water with barely a ripple. And with him hidden from
sight, annoyance surfaced.
    This was Rob’s
secret. Rob’s land. Who the fuck was this trespasser?
    “Lex, go get
him. Bad man. Intruder. Go on.”
    But the stupid
mutt just trotted to the water’s edge and began drinking.
    A head surfaced
in the middle of the lake.
    Bloody
hell.
    “Tommy?” Tommy
Freestone?
    Tommy’s eyes
widened. Yeah, that was him. His hair was the wrong colour—too
dark—and his skin paler than Rob remembered. But there was that
twitch of a grin. The one that invited mischief.
    “Come on in,
the water’s lovely,” Tommy said.
    “Yeah, right.
Fucking freezing, more like.”
    “Pussy.”
    “Nutter.”
    “Come on. Get
your kit off. You know you want to.”
    Rob’s stomach
flipped, excitement pooling low in his belly. He took a deep
breath, willing his wildly hammering heart to calm down. Tommy
hadn’t meant it like that. Probably thought Rob had trunks hidden
under his shorts. Three years ago Tommy had made it amply clear
where he stood on the whole boy on boy thing, which was about as
far as away as possible. Over a hundred miles away, in fact. They’d
barely spoken again before Tommy had gone off to London for his art
degree.
    He stole a
quick glance at Tommy’s body under the cover of stripping off his
T-shirt. All he could see above the water were a pair of pale
shoulders, still slim, but now boasting muscle definition where
previously he’d been all skin and bone. Nice. But out of bounds.
His stupid cock had better remember that before he stripped his
shorts off.
    It was only
when Rob started on his fly that he remembered he was wearing a
white pair of undies. Bugger. He’d look like one of the blokes he
tossed off to on Tumblr in wet tighty-whities. Not as ripped as
them, obviously, but wet white cotton didn’t hide much. He
hesitated, fly drawn down and thumbs tucked through his
waistband.
    “What you
waiting for, Carver? Scared it’ll be too cold?” Tommy clucked like
a mother hen. “Even Lexi’s getting wet. Hey Lex, over here. Come to
Tommy. Yes, you’re pleased to see me, aren’t you?”
    Sure enough,
Lex was ploughing into the water, tail wagging eagerly. Life would
be so much easier if Rob could be more like his dog. If he could
just bound up to the men he fancied and sniff their crotches
shamelessly. Damn, that really wasn’t helping the semi-on
situation.
    “I don’t have
any trunks with me,” Rob said eventually.
    Tommy raised an
eyebrow. “Me either. Come on, mate.